If Farm lacks the element of surprise of Dinosaur Jr.'s 2007 comeback, Beyond, that's just about the only thing it lacks: in every other respect it is its equal, a muscular, melodic monster that stands among the best albums the band has made. Again, what impresses is a combination of vigor and consistency, consistency not only in regards to the songs on Farm, but how it picks up on the thread running throughout the band's career, feeling as if it could have arrived in the early '90s, minus some subtle distinctions in production and attitude. As on Beyond, Dinosaur Jr.'s assuredness is striking; Mascis may drawl that he "did it wrong" on the pre-chorus of "There's No Here," but once again his tongue is firmly in cheek, and any traces self-mythologizing slackerdom are steamrollered by the band's roar. As good as the songwriting is -- and it's as strong as it was on Beyond, as Mascis alternates between molten rock & roll ("Pieces"), fuzzy pop gems ("Over It" and "I Want to Know"), and churning slow burns ("Ocean in the Way"), while Lou Barlow throws in two strong numbers -- the real rush of Farm comes from the band's interplay, how the group locks together and rides the wave, sometimes taking upwards of seven or eight minutes to get where they're going. Although there have been imitators and disciples, this is a sound that's utterly unique to Dinosaur Jr., and what's different about them in their reunion is that the group not only realizes their individuality, they revel in it, getting lost in the noise, and it's hard not to get swept up with it, too. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
More than most bands, Dinosaur Jr. left behind some unfinished business -- not just in one regard but two. First, there was the notoriously acrimonious dismissal of original bassist Lou Barlow after the group's third album, Bug, just before the band made the leap to the majors, but when the time came for guitarist/singer/songwriter J Mascis to retire the band's name, he slyly turned the words of his idol Neil Young upside down, choosing to fade away rather than burn out. After 1997's Hand It Over, Mascis ran out the clock, bringing his contract with Sire/Reprise to a close, doing some solo acoustic tours before forming the Fog and cutting a couple records with them without making any real impact outside of his devoted fans. And since he didn't break beyond his cult, Dinosaur Jr. seemed to belong solely to the history books -- the band that bridged the gap between the Replacements and Nirvana, the band that was seminal but not widely popular, a band that for whatever reason wasn't passed down to younger brothers and sisters the way their Boston compatriots the Pixies were. Perhaps it was because, unlike the Pixies, they summed up their times too well, since there was no other alt-rock musician that was as quintessentially slacker as J Mascis. With his laconic drawl and anthems of ambivalence, he was a figurehead for a generation who chose to stay on the sidelines, so sliding away from the spotlight was a logical path for Mascis: he never seemed to really want the fame, so it seemed that he'd be happier on the fringe, which is where he wound up. All of this made the reunion of the classic J-Lou-Murph lineup in 2005 all the more surprising: there may have been unfinished business, but such a mess seemed inherent to their mystique. But the group got together to tour in support of reissues of their first three albums, and defying all logic, the reunion worked -- working so well that the band decided to record a full-length album, Beyond, releasing it in May 2007. The very existence of this new album is a surprise, but the real shock is that Beyond is a flat-out great record, a startling return to form for J Mascis as a guitarist and songwriter and Dinosaur Jr. as a band. Although this is from the lineup responsible for You're Living All Over Me and Bug, two records so drenched in noise they still sound like aural assaults decades after their original release, Beyond sonically resembles latter-day Dinosaur albums; it's not as harsh and it's stylistically varied, ranging from full-throttle rockers to skipping country-rock and elegiac ballads. In a way, this sounds like the album that could have been released instead of Green Mind if Lou had stuck around, or if Dinosaur made the kind of grand major-label debut many expected them to deliver in the days before Nevermind. Musically, this suits that description -- Beyond is not a breakthrough or reinvention, it's a consolidation of their strengths, which means it sounds very much like the band did at its peak -- but in terms of attitude, Mascis could never have made an album as assured as this in 1992, simply because he never was this confident. Naturally, this deliberate disengagement was a large part of Dinosaur Jr.'s appeal: it not only made them sound distinct from their predecessors, but Mascis' ambivalence about anything and everything made his guitar virtuosity and great songs seemed almost accidental, their very casualness proof of his genius. Beyond is very different in that for the first time, Mascis is assertive about his talent. He sounds engaged -- in music, in life (as he winkingly acknowledges on the chorus of the opening "Almost Ready," "C'mon life/I'm almost ready") -- and it gives the album a powerful sense of purpose that the classic Dinosaur albums were lacking by their very design. But Beyond isn't great simply because it's cohesive; it's great because it's as bold, vital, and monstrous as their best early work. As soon as the album crashes open with "Almost Ready," it's clear that Dinosaur Jr. has tapped into the essence of their music, and their thundering roar sounds as vivid and thrilling as it was the first time around. After that visceral shock fades, it soon becomes apparent that Mascis' writing is as forceful and surprisingly melodic as his guitar playing, and it soon becomes apparent that he's no longer burying his heart or humor beneath his band's walls of sounds; they're proudly out on display. This fact is brought into sharp relief by Lou Barlow's songs, two tunes that are typically turned inward, yet they're enlivened by being delivered by this remarkable band, which gives Lou's songs a backbone they never quite had in Sebadoh. Plus, the very presence of Barlow's songs helps emphasize that Beyond is a full-fledged reunion, the sound of a group making amends and reconnecting with their strengths. Lou left the band because J didn't let his songs on Dinosaur's records, but now that they're back together, it's a fully collaborative effort, and the band is stronger for it, as this unexpectedly glorious reunion proves. Beyond isn't merely a worthy album from a reunited band, it's simply a great record by any standard. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
A blitzkrieg fusion of hardcore punk, Sonic Youth-style noise freak-outs, heavy metal, and melodic hard rock in the vein of Neil Young, You're Living All Over Me was a turning point in American underground rock & roll. With its thin, unbalanced mix, the album sounds positively menacing and edgy -- Lou Barlow's bass barrels forward over Murph's clanking drums, with J Mascis' guitar twisting pummeling riffs and careening, occasionally atonal solos. It established guitar heroics as a part of indie rock, bringing the noise of Sonic Youth into more conventional song structures. Also, Mascis' laconic, self-absorbed whine was a distinct departure from the furious post-hardcore rants, or the mumbling Michael Stipe imitations, that dominated indie rock. While the songwriting is occasionally uneven, the best moments of You're Living All Over Me -- "Little Fury Things," "Raisans," "In a Jar," and Barlow's proto-Sebadoh "Poledo" -- retain their power, and it's possible to hear the record's influence throughout alternative rock. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Bouncing back from the staid Without a Sound, J Mascis turns in his most eclectic album since Green Mind with Dinosaur Jr.'s Hand It Over. Dinosaur's bedrock sound hasn't changed -- it's still a sprawling, electric mess of hard rock filtered through folk-rock song structures -- but Mascis plays with the arrangements, adding strings, trumpets, and on a handful of tracks, My Bloody Valentine's slippery guitar orchestrations and vocals (Kevin Shields and Bilinda Butcher both sing on the album). These additions make the music sound fresh, but they would only be window dressing if Mascis' songs weren't as strong as they are. Again, his progressions are subtle, but songs like "I Don't Think," "Nothin's Goin' On," "Can't We Move This," and "Sure Not Over You" are fine additions to his catalog, and help make Hand It Over one of Dinosaur Jr.'s most consistent and best records. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
J Mascis fired longtime drummer Murph before the recording of Without a Sound, which came as a surprise to Murph. Naturally, the change in personnel hasn't changed Dinosaur Jr.'s sound much; the only difference between Without a Sound and Where You Been is a more pronounced country leaning (particularly on the album's high point, the rollicking "I Don't Think So") and shorter, more concise performances. What hasn't changed are the overpowering fuzz tones of Mascis' guitar, which tend to hide his more expressive vocals; it also makes digging out the gems on this album a little more difficult than necessary. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
By the time Where You Been surfaced, Seattle had completely exploded, and given that Dinosaur Jr.'s sound, attitude, and more were as proto-slacker as could be, the temptation must have been great to cash in. But J Mascis stuck to his guns, and there's little about Where You Been that would have seemed out of place on Green Mind or even some earlier records. Recorded with a full band throughout, Mike Johnson and Murph lay down does-the-job rhythm tracks while Mascis tackles almost everything else. Where You Been is occasionally moody and dark but otherwise is more rough fun. Opening track "Out There" is one of the most mournful things Mascis has recorded, with an especially yearning chorus, but his fiery solo still makes it classic Dinosaur Jr. "Start Choppin" immediately follows, its quick, catchy lead riff helping to make it as close to a radio hit as the band ever had -- and, of course, a big ol' solo or two adding to the fun of it all. From there on in it's a puréed blast of punk, classic rock, and more. It may be business as usual, but it's good business just the same, whether it's the gentle "Not the Same," on which Mascis does his best Neil Young impersonation, or the stuttering feedback snorts and rips on "Hide," on which he borrows a bit back from disciple Kevin Shields. Other highlights include "Get Me," a melancholic, steady cruncher with another trademark solo of the gods, and the unjustly ignored "What Else Is New," which sounds like a mid-'70s rock ballad with louder volume and none of the crud, right down to the concluding string section. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
Released before the group was forced to change its name to Dinosaur Jr. by an obscure psychedelic group, the band's debut, Dinosaur, is a noisy, impressive, but uneven array of pseudo-hardcore numbers, sonic experiments, and sprawling hard rock. Although the band doesn't land on any one distinctive style, its ambition of marrying Neil Young and Sonic Youth sounds intriguing, and it has enough outstanding moments to indicate that the group was capable of the stylistic breakthrough it achieved on You're Living All Over Me. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
After temporarily suspending the band, J Mascis first snuck out "The Wagon" as a Sub Pop single, then a little while later released the group's first major-label album, Green Mind. More of a solo project than a group effort -- Lou Barlow was out and then some, Murph only drums on three tracks, a few guests pop up here and there -- it's still a great album, recorded and performed with gusto. Such a judgment may seem strange given Mascis' legendary image as the überslacker, but clearly the man knows how to balance how to convey himself with getting the job done. "The Wagon" itself kicks off the album, an even quicker and nuttier sequel to the peerless "Freak Scene" -- Don Fleming of Gumball fame adds some of the music and background vocals, but otherwise it's Mascis and Murph cranking it and having a blast. When Mascis goes into one of his patented over-the-top solos, it all feels just right -- this is loud rock music for putting a smile on your face, not beating up people in a pit. The remainder of the album floats and rumbles along in its uniquely Dinosaur Jr. type of way, as apt to find poppy hooks, singalongs, and soft strumming as it is to blow out the Marshalls. Sublime moments include the contrast of sweet acoustic guitar and loud drums on "Blowing It," the fun thrash of "How'd You Pin That One on Me," and the Mellotron-as-flute-tinged stomp "Thumb." If nothing on the album is completely as freaked-out and over the top as "Don't" from Bug, it's still a fine translation of Mascis' art for the commercial big boys. The song titles alone sometime say it all -- "Puke + Cry," "I Live for That Look," "Muck." Mascis throughout sounds like his usual self, cracked drawl ever as it was and shall be. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
Relatively cleaner-produced and more accessible than You're Living All Over Me, Bug expanded on the strengths of its predecessor, and established Dinosaur Jr. as a major band in the American underground. Although the majority of the album is firmly situated in the sprawling, noisy metallic fusion of hard rock and avant noise, Bug also demonstrates that J Mascis has a talent for winding folk-rock, particularly on "The Post" and "Pond Song." Like its predecessor, the songs on Bug are quite uneven, but it does represent a major step forward for Mascis, particularly on the masterpiece of the record, "Freak Scene," a surprisingly catchy song encapsulating the appeal and pitfalls of indie rock within three minutes. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide