Being that I am not always the most optimistic person, I
couldn’t help but notice the odd, foreign sensation of feeling lucky this
night. Now, I’m not a religious man, but during this downtown musical
pilgrimage, the urge to stop and silently give a word of thanks to someone for
my good fortune was strong. It didn’t actually happen but the pull to do so
stuck with me for a while there. Seriously, in all of the multiverses in all of
the theoretical sciences or, if you prefer, in all of the five thousand years
the Earth has existed- the fact that my current domicile sits so close to this
storied event is beyond my feeble mind’s ability to explain in a way that can
be described by the non-goodness of my vocabulary. It set my mind astray with
thoughts about the suffocating number of people in this city compounded by the
greater tri-state area population plus all those with the time/money to
schedule a vacation to a different state/country; out of all that humanity, how
many people going to the Bowery Ballroom this week are as school girl giddy for
this as I am? While seven nights in a row at one venue is an experience that is
inclusive of a lot of people, very few will go to all seven nights (sadly,
myself included as family birthday plans had me out of state for the Friday and
Saturday night shows) and not everyone would drop everything to go to another
state for a week of shows (which I say that I would. Hypothetical? Yes, but
I’ve already done so for only one show- for an opening set once too- so there
is prior example legally speaking). I’ve got to be one of a few hundred tops,
right? Why am I defending my fandom like this? Ridiculous.
“You’re all set” I was told after my ticket made the scanner
chirp the right sound. “Thanks” was my autopilot reply as I was now mostly
trying to hear the sound system in the downstairs bar once I made it through
the entrance. It was obvious someone was talking into a microphone but the
words couldn’t be made out except for the last two which were an elongated and
shouted “DINOSAUR JR”. First night was starting right on time, good to know for
the other days ahead. As I hit the bottom of the stairs leading up to the floor
level with the stage, the opening drums and chords of side 1 track 1, “Forget
The Swan”, off their debut self-titled album Dinosaur boomed through the walls filling all open spaces
with guitar. Also at the foot of the stairs was the merch table, which just
couldn’t be resisted. After quickly buying only what was necessary (two shirts, sweatshirt and poster), I made it up the stairs for side 1 track 2,
“Cats In a Bowl”. Initially stalled by a wall of humanity at the very back of
the venue, I slowly made it to stage right about six people back from the very
front by side 2 track 3, “Severed Lips”. A stage, it should be noted,
illuminated with a projection of the first album’s cover come to life with
amazing new animation by the original artist Maura Jasper. Her illuminations
accompanied by Gollum-esque gargoyles on the sides of the stage and a giant
inflatable cartoon man flashing the peace sign come to life near the very back
of the stage. It was all very much the sensibilities of the now 30 year old
band on the stage. From this point on, the next week went by like a movie in 2X
speed leaving only blurry memories as it all seemed to be blowing by too fast
to fully appreciate.
What I heard while entering the venue and nearly missed
entirely was an introduction from the now grey haired monologist Henry Rollins.
His purpose to open the show with his infamously overly wordy rants while
perched from his best-seat-in-the-house location at the extreme reservoir tip
end of the stage-right balcony above J and his amp towers. Rollins is without
exception Dino’s top celebrity superfan and his dedication/dedications each
night proved that to all doubters. This was true of all seven nights as he was
impressively at every show cemented to his throne in rapt attention except for
the time he went from spectator to performer by shouting into the mic with the
band onstage for a killer version of the throat shredding “Don’t”. As per his
regimented punk rock ethos, Rollins was not there just to indulge. No, his job
requirements included the official introduction that contained the blueprint
for the night. Each night, after a truncated Rollin’s tirade on the power of
music, traveling the world, aged wisdom, etc., he would then explain the night
would consist of no opening act with two sets from the band. The first a straight
run through their debt album, Dinosaur, and, after a break, a whole other set
filled with greatest hits and special guests. Throughout the run Henry Rollins
became a bellwether for the shows, a canary in the coalmine if you will. Based
on his focus, which could be anything from intense concentration slowly rocking
back and forth in his chair to mindlessly looking down at his phone, his
attention/attitude gave you an indication of how locked in the band was
onstage. As mentioned earlier, I had to read about two of these nights but was
fortunate enough to attend the other five. At the time, each night was unique,
each had it’s own high and lows but, in hindsight, the five nights have now
merged into one amazing experience in my collective consciousness.
The reason for that five show mind melt is that all seven
nights of this Dinosaur festival ran like clockwork- a controlled, scheduled
production that gave comforting reassurance that there would be seven nights of
Henry Rollins musings/introductions, seven nights of the first lp, seven nights
of a second set with special guests and seven nights of the same encore- Neil
Young’s “Cortez the Killer”.
Structurally, each night was never any different, always within the same
time frame. It was so militaristic; you could almost set a watch to it (so much
so Harper Lee’s agent is looking into publishing it too). The only variation
each night was the contents of Henry’s ruminations before his intro, the
special guests, the second set list and the t-shirts the band was wearing
(maybe). While previous shows in honor of their two other original lps which
make up the holy triumvirate (You’re Living All Over Me and Bug
in addition to Dinosaur) were
just one night affairs at a larger “Bowery Presents” venue, this seven night
extravaganza in a smaller sized venue proved to be the winning formula. Would
you rather hear Rollins ranting into a mic for over an hour on one night or in
10 minute chucks over a week? Would you like to hear Dino’s debut lp played
straight thru once or seven times in seven nights? How about Neil Young’s
“Cortez the Killer” heard once or seven times with a different combination of
special guests? On paper, this sounds like a lot but, in reality, its not and
it wasn’t. There was a workman-like atmosphere to the proceedings with
dependable results. The experience became a wonderful commute, arriving at the
Bowery Ballroom at the same time every night to settle into a preferred spot to
see the show. Afterwards, leaving through the same exit door closest to the
subway entrance, throwing out the “I’m old enough to drink” wristband in the
same garbage can in the “Bowery” station and getting home at roughly the same
time every night.
The biggest of the previously mentioned nightly variations
lied within the second set’s song selection and surprise special guests. Even
with this distinction, adding even more to the memory bleed of individual
nights into one collective experience was the fact there were definite staples
in this set every night. Always with the “Freakscene”, the “Get Me”, the
“Pieces”, the “Feel The Pain”, the member(s) of Sonic Youth, the Kurt Vile
onstage/backstage and the bass amp issues. Obviously, there were moments that
made each stand out- Mike Watt taking over bass duties for covers of The
Stooges’s “TV Eye” and “Funhouse”, Bob Mould sitting in for the Husker Du cover
“In a Free Land”, Eugene Mirman’s ridiculous Theremin jam, or Kevin Shields two
night stand highlighted by MBV’s “Thorn”. As the You’re Living All Over Me anniversary show with it’s own second set of
greatest hits/special guests a couple years earlier proved, having the band
share the stage with additional musicians is an interesting idea in concept.
Enjoyable for sure but, ultimately, the real highlights of the night are the
three musicians in the band. Their chemistry is what makes the sound and
motivates a sell out seven nights in a row at one venue. Dinosaur Jr is a
complete unit, a sum larger than its individual parts. They represent a near
perfect balance of three instruments, three minds and three energies. So, while
interesting in theory, seeing the guy from Wilco doing guest vocals or Steve
Gunn adding an additional layer of guitar proves to be insignificant and
inconsequential at the end of the day. Don’t misunderstand, hearing Bob Mould
add his guitar to “Freakscene” and seeing Evan Dando never knowing the lyrics
to “Cats In a Bowl” was great fun yet it was nothing more than filler. What it
allowed was a great opportunity for these musicians to pay their respects to the
band and for Dinosaur Jr themselves to play with their friends and peers. Yet,
in the end, it’s nothing more than a moment of fun to be forgotten like a
drunken memory.
It should then be no surprise that the highlight each night
was the band’s run through their debut lp Dinosaur. To that album’s credit, some songs have remained in
J’s rotation for the better part of the thirty years since it’s initial
release. Of their original trilogy, this debut lp is by all definitions a
certified classic yet still tends to be overshadowed by the behemoth You’re
Living All Over Me that followed it and the
hit making Bug. Unique to the
rest of their catalog, Lou handles a heavy portion of the vocal duties on this
record as they were still finding their sound when this was recorded. The
result is a schizophrenic sound, as it’s earnestly and equally aggressive,
sarcastic and moodily sensitive. Seeing a band now 30 years removed from
writing these songs perform their very first album from start to finish
multiple nights gave new insight into a familiar favorite.
One major bonus of this arrangement was the chance to hear
for the first time (and second, third, fourth and fifth as well) the last song
on side 1 “Pointless” played by the band live onstage. An under three minute
gem that you may know by it’s signature line “I’m starving” stretched and
screamed by Lou as a chorus of sorts. As a certified rarity in Dinosaur Jr’s
live repertoire, it was an obvious highpoint of each night just for its
inclusion. As the nights continued, it became apparent just how odd it was for
the band to be playing this particular song as J felt the need to compulsively
speak (sometimes at length) about the song in what seemed to be an attempt to
justify its existence. While fuzzy, the sands of time have allowed me to piece
together the following paraphrased sentiments from J regarding this diamond in
the rough: 1) This is one of the oddest songs we ever wrote 2) We were
listening to a lot of Birthday Party at the time 3) Gerard Cosley asked us to record
an album and we had a lot of different styles we threw at the wall. 4) This is
a weird one. I’m not sure where it came from. Being given the ability to hear
this one song multiple nights was as rare an opportunity as an independent
music fan is going to get; it was truly akin to that substantive middle part of
anything sandwich related be it meat or the cream filling. It was the heart of
the matter, the hidden key to the album. The rest of the songs on Dinosaur were also an embarrassment of riches busting with
reunion setlist staples like “Forget the Swan”, “Gargoyle”, “Mountain Man”,
“Repulsion”, “Severed Lips” and “Quest”. In all honesty, having the privilege
of hearing this album live night after night was what I found myself grieving
like a loss when the week was up.
While memory allows this week to be but one experience in my
mind, the ability to remember one night as a standout has not yet been lost in
the folds of my brain. This does not discount any other night or take away from
the grandeur that was on display for an entire week, it’s just one night seemed
to represent the intention of the invention of this anniversary blowout. A
night that rode the crest of a high and beautiful weeklong wave (to incorporate
a seminal line by an author famous for doing lines), that left it’s high water
mark on a Monday that even Garfield could get behind. It all started with a
blistering first set that had their debut album sounding alive with an
intensity their 30 year younger selves were having a tough time matching on the
nearly perfect record itself. The absolute highlight of the night, perhaps of
the whole week, was this set’s version of the melodic (d)ripper “Severed Lips”.
A song that had my mouth agape at times as I thought to myself in the crowded
darkness that this was definitively special- that something was clicking on
stage in a spiritual (but not religious) way. That this song and performance
was somehow summing up everything Dinosaur ever set out to accomplish as band.
A loose rhythm section with a fuzzed and plodding bass line backed by steady
drums allowing room for melodic guitar lines and disarmingly earnest lyrics
that would eventually become covered by explosive molten guitar blasts and
shimmering cymbals. A song that seemingly encapsulates the heights of a now
famous college rock sound that was the final steppingstone before the grunge
implosion that served as both savior and destroyer of this overly fertile
scene. “Severed Lips” remains as a living document of a nearly perfect attempt
to mix youthful naivety and energy with earned insight and delicate truths.
Earnest at times, cryptic in others, it lulls you to meditative peace until it
punches you with the raw, jagged edges of vulnerability. Afterwards, a
collectively stunned crowd was rendered nearly speechless provoking Lou to
plead “Come on. This is a celebration. That was fucking awesome.” “That’s the
best we’ve ever played that song”. A delayed reaction of full satisfaction
followed his words as they launched into the much more outwardly aggressive
“Mountain Man”.
Monday continued to build off of the transcendent first half
by provided a second half built around the band’s recorded history. The special
guests this night were not indie rock royalty like Frank Black, Bob Mould or
Jeff Tweedy that ensured a twitter and instagram deluge. This was more of an
intimate affair with friends and musicians who were curated to enhance the
communal power of the songs; to be ingredients that bake into this celebratory
birthday cake as opposed to just being the frosting on top. As the night went
on it became apparent the theme for the second set was actual studio guests
from the records which added an extra layer to each live performance that
night- Lee Renaldo screamed into the mic on “Little Fury Things”, Tiffany
Anders provided background vocals on “Get Me” and Thalia Zadek did the same on
“Feel the Pain”. Making the best use of the special guest possibilities (minus
a pop in by Mike Johnson of course), Jay Speigel and Don Fleming were invited
to play drums and guitar near the end of the set. Such a rarity that J even had
to point out this was the first time this version of the band would be playing
live on stage. They absolutely destroyed with a double drum, sitar tinged,
Mascis/Fleming dueling guitar explosion that was a dream version of “The
Wagon”. It was pure overblown bliss. Speaking to the generational appeal of
this band, a barely college aged kid asked me “Who is that guy?” pointing to
the insanely tall white haired man onstage strapping on his guitar. “That’s Don
Fleming.” I yelled back over the crowd noise. “Who?” the baseball hatted young
adult asked back immediately “He was in B.A.L.L.” I said to a confused look
“Gumball” I said back thinking he would at least know their J Mascis guesting
“Special Kiss” lp or “Wisconsin Hayride” ep. Not so based on the continued
confused look. “He played on The Wagon” I said to his instant nod of approval
as the opening blasts of that very song came from the stage and we both snapped
to attention toward the musician packed stage. J even mentioned something about
this being the first ever live attempt at the single version of the song. If
true, only adding more intrigue to this now historic performance in Dinosaur Jr
lore.
“They from Seattle?” one AARP aged man in the crowd said to
the other, both wearing leather jackets that looked as though they had been
dusted off from back deep in their closets “Yeah, but they’ve been doing it for
30 years. Longer than all those other bands.” “Oh” was the response to his inquiry
as attention was given right back to a max brightness iphone texting in all
caps about leaving something with his doorman. “They never stopped, though,
unlike the rest of them.” his friend yelled back as he attempted to distract
his friend from his phone. The Rollins aged duo left right after Dino finished
their first set thinking the night was over as the house lights came up for
extra amps and mics to be prepared for the upcoming extra guests. They were
there just long enough to have a conversation filled with nothing but incorrect
information and to throw off the median age of the attendees. It appears there
are a lot of misconceptions about this band with the non-rabid fan base. I
don’t know what it says about the band or humanity itself, but the outer limits
of that base have produced some of the most classless incidents I’ve ever
witnessed at live performances. At the You’re Living All Over Me anniversary show, I was directly behind a piece of
human trash who took off his own shoe and winged it at Henry Rollins who was on
stage at the time interviewing the band. The shoeless moron drunkenly mumbled
something like “enough talking, play some music”. As I remember, Henry Rollins
retorted that he would look for the guy outside after the show and he’d be easy
to spot as he now only had one shoe. Thankfully, justice was served quickly as
security took care of that situation almost immediately. Again, during one of
these weeklong shows, a very drunk girl decided guest vocalist Sharon Von Etten
was not singing well enough and twice threw ice cubes from her mixed drink
filled plastic cup that hit their intended mark. This to the horror of those
around her who made sure it didn’t happen again. At this moment, I choose to
look up at Henry Rollins from his perch above the crowd and he was staring at
the part of the crowd where the projectiles originated with a suppressed rage
that was centered in the intensity of his icy glare. I met his eyes for one
second as he scanned my section of the crowd before locking in on the girl in
question. That one brief moment was terrifying like looking into the eyes of a
rabid wild animal before it’s diseased mind decides to attack out of illogical
rage.
While their origins are not the mythic Seattle as a doorman
was most likely told later that night, Massachusetts is seemingly just as odd
of a place to have produced so much good music. At first glance anyway, because
Boston has quite a respectable musical track record helping give birth to a
scene that gave the world GG Allin, Mission of Burma, Pixies, Breeders,
Lemonheads, Come, Big Dipper and Volcano Suns just to name a few. Least we
forget Dinosaur Jr who were a crown jewel of that mid to late eighties
underground music scene in Boston that gained support from both the surrounding
towns and innumerable nearby colleges. Resulting in the “Good Will
Hunting”-exploited melting pot of bars and clubs where townies and college
students were forced to engage each other and discuss apples. Just as important
to Dinosaur Jr’s existence, as the decision to have this week long celebration
in New York City attests, J, Lou and Murph found a secondary home heading south
down the pike to a downtown scene that was the habitat for well… too much to
mention here, but let’s say a Sonic Youth fan base sitting on top of a rich
history of punk rock lore. As J has stated before, some of the band’s most
receptive initial audiences were in NYC where they were welcomed by both music
fans and their peers (Did I mention Sonic Youth?). While conceived in Massachusetts,
it was NYC where they realized this band could be their life. Lou was prodded
into commenting on this period of the band on stage after guest vocalist Pussy
Galore’s Julie Cafritz bluntly spoke about how the band despised each other in
the old days. Lou defended himself by saying “All bands hated each other back
then, it’s what bands did.” “Except for Sonic Youth who all hung out with each
other and went like thrift store shopping together.” It should also be noted
that either Kim Gordon or Lee Renaldo were at these Bowery Ballroom shows
almost every night if not all seven. A physical, tangible sign that a
definitive bond was forged in those seminal New York city years that still
exists between the members of both bands to this day.
In particular, this week in early December 2015 was a busy
one for J Mascis with the 30th anniversary of Dinosaur and his own
milestone 50th birthday immediately after this multi night Bowery
Ballroom stand ended. Once Lou uncorked that fact on stage in the middle of their
run, the whole weeklong party made much more sense. A nearly 50 year old man
with a passion for purple and vintage amps ruled his side of the stage- mostly
stone faced and nonplussed but all emotion on the inside which manifested
itself through his guitar. His musical output that week giving a tour de force
performance of his signature amp on sleeve melodies, heart broken tales,
lovelorn riffs, uplifting solos and succinct (often repeated) lyrics. It would
seem this week was designed by a man of advancing years actively deciding to
revisit his life through a pop structured lens. 30 years ago, a happy future
was an unknown commodity to this band- wives, children, solo careers, legendary
guitarist status- it was all yet to come to fruition. At the Bowery Ballroom,
the full 30 year span was up on that stage, a period of time that could seem
like the blink of an eye in one instance to moments where the individual years
and the struggle therein could be felt all too easily. Song selections ran the
gamut from their original trio of classic lps to their jump to the majors and
middling success to pulling the plug to the current reunion resurrection. This
week long event made one point crystal clear, this band just continues to get
better and better with age. After years of playing apart, in 2016 Dinosaur Jr’s
legendary reunion is now something that can almost be referred to as ancient
history. The original band is now a living entity, a piece of the present and,
therefore, an institution with a foreseeable future. Lou with Murph are THE
rhythm section for J. Sure, Mike Johnson and George Berz did a good job in the
90s as did the Fog and Watt and the Ashtons, but it just feels like Lou and
Murph play the music J hears in his head. On stage, the music produced is primal,
it’s electric and it’s symbiotic. Lou’s tension, Murph’s glue and J’s astral
planing guitar have the ability to create spiritual moments that transcend the
format to, for lack of a better word, genuine art. They tap into something
primitive that comes across like an ancient voice speaking into the center of
your own elemental brain. A sound that carries millions of years in it’s DNA that goes all the way back to the very beginning which we now know is at least
30 years.
Long live Dinosuar!