Earplugs galore… Dinosaur Jr. play 1994’s ‘Without a Sound’ in full at Manchester’s Albert Hall
The Massachusetts alt-rock veterans blazon into the North-West, celebrating their sixth record in full, up-close and, of course, very, very loudly…
Photo: Cara Totman
Dinosaur Jr.’s sixth album, Without a Sound, didn’t receive the warmest reception back in 1994. Many fans saw the commercially orientated direction as nothing short of a betrayal. An outfit losing its edge. Other listeners scowled at the slower, Americana-inspired tracks. And some music lovers were too deep in their mourning over the suicide of Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain to even consider anything remotely grunge-esque (Without a Sound was released a few months after Cobain was found dead).
Reviewer Matt Diehl even gave the release an unflinching 2/5 stars for Rolling Stone in 1994:
“The hollow pop of a cork pulled out of a bottle opens Dinosaur Jr.’s new album, Without a Sound; what follows, however, reveals how Dino leader and songwriter J Mascis’ once-fierce guitar rock has lost some of its fizz”.
Ouch.
This is a long-winded way of saying that Dinosaur Jr.’s album was — and is — due a revaluation. The group carry out said reevaluation in the live setting, playing the record in its entirety, track by track. As much for the group as it is for fans, perhaps. A warmer reception is felt in Manchester’s Albert Hall than in the Rolling Stone offices — that’s for certain, at the very least.
Dinosaur Jr. open their set with Feel The Pain, their biggest song. If nothing else, it’s admittedly a brave way to launch the performance, throwing away their most valuable card before most punters have even got halfway through their pint. I like it, though. It’s unpretentious and unperformative. J Mascis and co just want to play their record in its natural form, even if it means that it’s all downhill from here (the trio prove that it isn’t).
Feel The Pain sees an ageing group feeling — and sounding — young… whippersnapper hooks, twinkly and somersaulting, fill Albert Hall (even if the venue’s sound mixing is too dire to begin with to really bring these hooks into the un-smudged clarity which they deserve). Drummer Murph soldiers on, rattling into the similar, yet no less alluring, territory of I Don’t Think So: adrenaline-fuelled rock music, tinted with dust-specked melancholy.
Slower cuts, such as Outta Hand, allow the crowd to ease out their earplugs and pick the fluff out of their ears. J Mascis continues to prove that he’s an unwaveringly miserable piece of work… to our delight.
Mascis’ planted stoicism contrasts, sometimes comically, the punk-posturing of bassist Lou Barlow. Think Dee Dee Ramone if his hair was twice as long. It’s wonderful seeing a bass player… well, actually, have fun on stage. Barlow hammers, plucks and twangs his bass in a series of comic-book-like motions — don’t be fooled, these theatrics hide an astounding precision. Grab It essentially serves as an instruction booklet for how to play bass, with devastating effect, in a ridiculously loud alt-rock outfit. Notes are taken.
The trio rip-roar through the record. In 1994, it may have been torn apart for being too sentimental, or too commercial, or too slow at times. But here, in the live setting (and with thirty-odd years of reflection), Dinosaur Jr.’s veteran followers embrace Without a Sound with open arms. The record may be less sonically experimental — and less fiendishly cult-ready material — than fan-favourite release You’re Living All Over Me. However, it still homes a familiar noise-loving sensibility… even if that sensibility is a little more restrained. The earplugs are still very much needed. Husker Dü are always in the heart of Dinosaur Jr..
And to finish off a successful night even more successfully, Dinosaur Jr. play a pick-n-mix of fan favourites. Just Like Heaven is suitably irreverent. In A Jar is satisfyingly fizzy and twisted, led through its remarks of animalistic self-loathing by distorted bass acrobatics.
Dinosaur Jr. get the job done in Manchester. A record revived. Noise made. Earplugs galore.