The concept of uncontaminated sincerity in music feels like an ancient myth more & more these days, so that when you hear tunes which do completely embody a purity and spirit of newness and exploration, well, it just feels so good. Even now, more than two decades after this release, Dinosaur Jr’s music gleams with the energy and unbridled adventure of youth; they were sued over use of the name ‘Dinosaur’, so being young smart-asses they merely added the ‘Jr.’ to keep clear of legal static. Their early releases are a gumbo of varying genres and lofty ideas: they retained more than a little of their roots from the hardcore punk scene (when they were known as ‘Deep Wound’…nice), threw in some classic and psychedelic rock touches, minor chord melodies, distortion for days and, perhaps most important of all, lots of LOUD. A good friend and I got to catch these guys on their 2005 reunion tour, and as we anxiously took our place right at the front of the stage after the opening band was done, one of the techs that was setting up the speakers and monitors looked down at us almost pityingly and boomed, “you guys might wanna move”. We motioned towards our ears, proudly indicating that we came prepared and had plugs in already---he pondered this for a moment, dispensing with his warning once again, “seriously, you guys still might wanna move.” This particular song rips through time signature changes, an extended bridge (where we get our first taste of the brittle and precarious approach to singing of guitarist J. Mascis) and volatile soloing, allowing the listener a peek into Dino’s wide-ranging playbook and giving us hints as to the many types of sounds and elements people would soon come to immediately associate with this band. I never got into Sebadoh as much but I love when Lou Barlow (bassist) sings, and minus the bridge where J takes a turn, he does a great job here sounding both fragile and eager; taking a look at the picture of all three guys on the back of this album, one would be hard pressed to find an uglier, geekier bunch of awkward-looking teens anywhere. That vulnerability remains readily apparent underneath the countless layers of flanging, screaming guitars and bombastic drumming. Problems between J and Lou were at the center of this initial lineup’s demise back in the late 80s, and that friction was still easily noticeable at the show I attended, as they each took guard on opposite sides of the stage, never looking at each other, relying upon their drummer, Murph, for each song’s cues. It sounds cliché, but I think that very tension is what forged the matchless combination of inimitable sonic elements we recognize as the sound of Dinosaur Jr.
