CREEM ONLINE: Dinosaur Jr. — Gods Of Thunder

Dinosaur Jr.
Gods Of Thunder

God, this is surreal. We're backstage at Detroit's Majestic Theatre, and there's J Mascis, soaking his hand in a bucket of ice after a blistering show, struggling to muster the energy to respond to an introduction from your intrepid reporter. And there's Murph, shirtless and shaved-headed, all skin and sweat, pink like a baby mouse. Lou Barlow has already changed out of his stage duds into fresh clothes, and he's already soaked the new outfit thanks to the blazing heat outside as well as the exertion of the show he just played.

Knowing anything about the acrimonious breakup of the original Dinosaur Jr., that scene is surreal enough. But alongside Barlow is his wife, Kathleen, and the couple's adorable baby Hannelore. Jason Loewenstein from Sebadoh is also in the house, having blasted out a killer opening set.

This friendly, family-like vibe is surreal because the breakup of the original Dinosaur Jr. was legendary for its soap opera-style melodrama. Barlow was rudely dumped from the band by being told they were breaking up, only to discover that they just meant they were breaking up with him. He shot back with reams of songs filled with spite and bitterness while a less-powerful version band continued.

Now, here it is, a decade and a half later, and the original trio is back on the road, touring behind reissues of the first three albums—Dinosaur, You're Living All Over Me and Bug (which sound much better than ever, by the way). Mascis oversaw the remastering process on those discs.

"I was just glad to get a chance to fix things that had bugged me in the past," Mascis said. "Like 'Bulbs of Passion' never sounded quite right somehow, and on You're Living All Over Me they put a space between 'Kracked' and 'Sludgefest' for some reason on the CD which wasn't on the album, so I got to take the space out again."

Talk of a reunion heated up when Merge announced the reissues. The reissues were a project that's been on Mascis' radar for years, but has only recently been able to happen for legal and logistical reasons, Murph said. And nobody thought there would be a reunion.

"[Mascis has] been trying for years to release these first three albums for years," Murph said. "He was just going to re-release the CDs. We weren't actually thinking of doing this, but we had so much interest from family and friends and promoters and fans and so many people overwhelmingly [who said] 'If you're going to put out the records you've got to do this together, you've got to do it as a package.'"

"We were so blown away by how much interest there was, we were like, well, I guess we've got to do this," Murph said.

So the band mounted extensive European and U.S. tours. Murph said that onstage, the band's old chemistry is back.

"When you do something like this 15 years later, it's either going to be really great, or it's going to be a total train wreck. It turned out to be really great," Murph said. "We all synched in really well together, and we're all in a place in our lives where we were able to come together. It's been amazing."

Murph was always supportive of a reunion, but he didn't think it would happen.

"I was always the mediator between J and Lou," Murph said. "I was worried more that they wouldn't get along. It wasn't me." Those fears proved unfounded, though.

The friction between Mascis and Barlow seems to have abated some. "Lou's a lot more stable now. He's got a kid now and a wife and a house," Mascis said.

Murph said there's a previously unthinkable rapport and level of camaraderie between the three. "We can all go out to dinner and joke around and everything's totally fine," Murph said.

Murph said one of the improvements is that the band members are better musicians now.

"I always felt like we were playing more by the seat of our pants, whereas now, I feel like we've got a better command of the songs," he said. "We can execute them really well."

That's in part due to the fact that in the years since the 1989 split, it's not like anyone gave up playing music. Mascis soldiered on with a new version of Dinosaur before releasing records solo and with his new band, the Fog. Barlow worked with his bands Sebadoh and Folk Implosion before putting out his first proper solo album in early 2005 (the brilliant Emoh). Murph continued on with Dinosaur until after 1993's Lollapalooza, subsequently working with the Lemonheads and playing on sessions with various friends around New York.

"All that experience we can draw on, and it just adds so much more fuel to the fire—in a good way. In the old days, it was in a bad way because we were kind of negative and just really abrasive with each other, where now it's more like a flow where we can just get in a flow and go for it."

The other thing that's different from the old days is that Mascis and Barlow both have wives and children and frequently have family accompaniment on tour.

"In the old days, we would not have been able to tolerate that kind of personal space at all," Murph said. "We would have freaked."

The band seems to be enjoying the improved interpersonal dynamics.

"There was so much strife and so much tension. It almost didn't seem worth it sometimes," Murph said. "I can sit back and enjoy it now. When I was doing it then, it was more like a painful process and that overshadowed what was going on—I think for all of us to a certain extent. Now we can sit back and listen to it and go 'This is really cool' and enjoy it."

And it's easy to see why they'd enjoy it. Reunions are either pathetic cash grabs or joyful reminders of a continuing greatness. Dinosaur's reunion falls squarely in the latter camp. Live, they crank through Mascis' beautiful and powerful songs at a volume that creates a feeling somewhat like swimming through thick, soundwave-filled air rather than water. Dinosaur live is definitely a tactile sensation.

Barlow, who has spent his post-Dinosaur days working on his singing, songwriting and guitar playing, is a fine artist in those roles. But he's a visionary bass player. He approaches the instrument almost like a ukelele (which was his first axe)—although a Rickenbacker strummed through a Marshall stack makes a much different statement than "Tiny Bubbles." Locked in with Murph, the two create an explosive, propulsive rhythm section.

And then there's Mascis, who is very different onstage than he is off. It's not that Mascis is an asshole, or unfriendly, or even retarded. He's just extremely hard to talk to. It's a rhythm thing. In a good interview, both parties develop a rapport, and a back-and-forth, give-and-take happens. But with Mascis, questions are met with silence, and you try to wait long enough for him to answer, but eventually you feel like you've just asked a question he's not interested in answering and move on. And then he starts talking just as you're interrupting him, which throws the rhythm off even more.

I've heard from people that in the right moods and in the right settings, Mascis can be more conversational—both insightful and hilarious. But in general, you get the feeling that talking's just not his thing.

Onstage, though, it's another story. It's like there's all this energy bottled up, and he makes these little windows for it to escape through. So he whips his nipple-length silver hair and blasts a feedback-drenched lick that would make any Guitar Center zitface cream in his jeans. It's all so effortless.

In fact, the whole reunion seems effortless. It makes one wonder if there's a future for Dinosaur Jr. The band members try to keep expectations low.

"If there's interest later on, and we're all free, who knows? Maybe we'll do something," Murph said.

Mascis confirmed that he looks at the Dinosaur reunion as a short-term thing. "I never had any thoughts of doing it past the summer," Mascis said.

But nobody ever thought we'd get to this point, either. So it seems likely that Dinosaur fans everywhere are praying that these guys are having enough fun to keep going.