Last month alt-rock survivors Dinosaur Jr. released I Bet On Sky, the band’s third album since re-forming in 2005. Remarkably, it ranks as yet another subdued masterstroke from a band whose unlikely second act mirrors the most fertile period of an initial incarnation that began with 1985’s Dinosaur and ended with 1991’s Green Mind.
Thirty years and ten albums into its career, I Bet On Sky might not qualify as a departure for a band beloved for its consistency, but it quietly incorporates a few foreign elements—the hushed piano in “Don’t Pretend You Didn’t Know,” the Bolan-like bounce in “Almost Fare”—without forgoing crucial ingredients: wailing solos, singer J. Mascis’ melancholic pleas for forgiveness, and brief Barlow interludes.
If full blown comebacks are now de rigueur in indie rock circles, few others have contributed to their continuing legacy as successfully rather than trafficking in former glories. With traces of Dinosaur Jr. found throughout the current musical landscape, the band’s continued relevance is not quite as miraculous as the détente established between its famously feuding band members.
And yet during Thursday night’s sold out show at the Black Cat, J Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph looked and sounded nearly as sturdy as the mountains of Marshall stacks that famously crowd its stage.
The band’s 16-song set spanned its entire career, but focused mostly on new material while including a smattering of songs from its back catalogue (the very worthy recent albums, 2009’s Farm and 2007’s Beyond were overlooked this tour).
Live, Dinosaur Jr.’s presence is a familiar dichotomy between J Mascis, all mumbles and shoe gazing (literally, not aesthetically), while Lou Barlow plays the chatty, jumpy jester. Thursday’s show proved no exception. Initially sidelined by sound issues, things didn’t seem to settle until “Start Choppin’,” at which point the set picked up momentum.
Regardless of I Bet On Sky‘s laidback charms, the band couldn’t resist the urge to ratchet things up, and nowhere was this need for speed clearer than its dusting off a Deep Wound song, Mascis and Barlow’s pre-Dino hardcore outfit. The impulse electrified its back catalogue (“In A Jar”) but left others (“Don’t Pretend You Didn’t Know”) hazy and muddled.
The most satisfying blending of sensibilities came during “Watch the Corners,” which (arguably) lent itself to the most majestic shredding during an evening lousy with it. By the time crowd pleasers “Freak Scene” and “Just Like Heaven” emerged late into the set, the packed club reveled in every sweet, somber and familiar note.
