Dinosaur Jr are a monster of a band. The last time something this seminal visited Liverpool was in 2008 and was called La Machine! Despite having two legs less than the robotic spider, Dinosaur Jr are able to exude the same sense of communal anger and cultural divisiveness.
Where La Machine was considered “too noisy” so are Dinosaur Jr, where Dinosaur Jr are considered unique and enigmatic, so is La Machine. Some people despise Dinosaur Jr as they did La Machine and most don’t understand the importance of both.
They’re brothers in the sense that they both display complete uncomfortably with a) conforming and b) existing. And live, at 02 Academy, Liverpool, it is clear that just like La Machine strides around with modernism and sinister undertones attached to his appearance that Dinosaur Jr are keen to do what they do best as well – playing loud music to an adoring crowd.
Amps piled like a Duplo tower and with little time for unnecessary banter, Dinosaur Jr’s set is special for the silences in between songs and the moments when what look like chins with hair whisper and discuss to dreadlocked friends and bearded companions which song will be next, then what will be after that one, then what will follow them, etc, etc until a thirty second gap between an onslaught of Dinosaur Jr classics has been endured simply talking about them; just gossiping in front of your heroes, small-talk in the presence of big, big legends.
The best way to describe the concert would be as a seminar from wired professors – admittedly wired professors ignoring formal dress and sound code and passing on a lesson in the art of bastardised nonchalance.
Drilling a pneumatic, obnoxious and self-indulgent brilliance into my soft skull, this concert went someway to confirming my woeful preconceptions about music that wasn’t necessarily my niche.
As a thin, flamboyant fan of the Shangri-La’s and The Smiths, Prefab Sprout and The Band I stood, mouth agog and arms folded, probably looking like the lost child of Jarvis Cocker – in truth what I resembled was a shrunken, skewed and shocked reviewer in awe and disgust at the innumerable talents rarely showcased and beautifully performed that Jay Mascis, Lou Barlow and stand in drummer “Kyle” have at their disposal.
In a crushing relationship of garage and grunge that twinkle-toes itself into an idea of music that deserves its own new colour on the spectrum – something like bronzed grey or decaying gold – and painted with a poisoned brush on a glass easel, when listening to Dinosaur Jr you see mirrors, mirrors with bloodstains spelling out your name.
And underneath your name there is a small heart, a token of juvenile love hidden in almost all their songs – reflecting past your face in this musical mirror is a distant glow of alternate acceptance – one duly explained by my Dinosaur Jr fanatic, close friend and eloquent adviser on his fixation.
“No-one makes music like Dinosaur Jr – what’s interesting is the melodies that hide behind their sound, its completely unique” he said in a solemn tone, attributed to the fact that as he spoke he actually couldn’t hear any of his surroundings, and this was half an hour after the concert finished!
Quite right too. As this was where I realised that my soft-skull and cotton skin did have feelings more than appreciation and admiration for Dinosaur Jr.
There was also a deep bond between my favourite bands and what I was witnessing. SURREAL SENTENCE COMING... There’s really not that much difference between Jay Mascis and Brian Wilson or Lou and The Shangri-La’s – as long as you feel refreshed and ready to dispel any suspicions you have about the world and its ever changing nature, all music is one.
If this was the night of revelation, the night before had been the night of discovery as I watched a particularly interesting documentary on the “guitar” In this, we were introduced to various talking heads who mused over the instrument calling it things like “friend” and “saviour” I would suggest the name “Nephew” for Jay Mascis’ weapon of choice.
“Nephew” because there is an immense love and unity between the two but still an authority to tease it and taunt it to a semi-crushed state of relative worry. Jay and his guitar share his fingers, not the fingers on the guitar, an important analytical distinction. It’s as much part of him as his glasses or his hair; intrinsically linked to his being.
Outsiders; Dinosaur Jr owe more to art than “noise”. Their sound is an eccentric amalgamation of intricacy and poetry – no other band could howl “The virgin’s escaping” with such poetic and desperate intentions.
And no other band could sustain a career so turbulent and stunted without the genuine belief that they are a band not out of occupational circumstance or out of simple fallacy and luck, they exist and continue to exist because their words resonate within and their sound resounds throughout the world.
Unmistakable, seminal, hopeful, sublime – whatever you call them, they’re here to stay, in one way or another, through hard times and bad, the true definition of a band and something for the posing prima donnas, pouting post-Madonna’s and haunting spectres of the modern group that scurry around the charts looking for the tongue and teeth of a company executive, to look up to.
In fact, I’ve found the word to describe them and it’s strange how four letters can evaluate 3 decades; real.
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Liverpool Music Awards 2012 Launches
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