Back from the brink of extinction
By Ricardo Baca
Denver Post Pop Music Critic

After disbanding in 1988, Dinosaur Jr.’s original lineup is together and playing the Fox Theatre tonight and Saturday. From left are drummer Murph, frontman J Mascis and bassist Lou Barlow. (Brantley Gutierrez)

Dinosaur Jr.’s records from the mid-’80s – "Dinosaur" and "You’re Living All Over Me," especially – amount to an aural history lesson, a solid yet volatile chunk of Indie Rock 101.

The seminal group was a flash point in independent rock, but it was a brief blast of flame and noise. It formed in 1983 in Amherst, Mass., disbanding five years and three groundbreaking albums later when frontman J Mascis kicked bassist Lou Barlow out of the band.

That’s why it’s kind of a big deal that the original lineup is together and playing the Fox Theatre tonight and Saturday.

"It’s OK," Mascis said last week via telephone from Myrtle Beach, S.C., his signature could-care-less tone masking any real excitement. "It’s kinda the same, but everybody’s a bit more mellow, or something."

Mascis never has been considered a great conversationalist or communicator. Michael Azerrad’s treat of a book, "Our Band Could Be Your Life," paints a comical, dysfunctional picture of the trio, which is filled out by drummer Murph, but Mascis’ role in the indie rock revolution is undeniable. Even Barlow, who later created iconic bands Sebadoh and Folk Implosion after his ouster from Dinosaur, concedes Mascis’ influence.

"I never tried to be that loud with any other band I played with," Barlow said from Washington, D.C. "My bass playing style is a response to J’s playing, and it’s also very influenced by him. I developed it with him, and the way I strung the bass is unique to that band."

While it never broke beyond cult status, Dinosaur Jr. was one of those bands in the ’80s that kick-started grunge and hand-molded indie rock. If names such as Nirvana and the Pixies are springing to mind, you’re on the right track.

"Dinosaur Jr. absolutely deserves to be in the same sentence as The Pixies," said Scott Campbell, owner of the Larimer Lounge, a club that has hosted solo shows for Mascis and Barlow. "They pushed indie rock forward in the late ’80s and early ’90s to the point where it just took one band to break through to bring everybody up, and that was Nirvana."

Campbell remembers a 1991 concert that signaled, to him and a few others, rock music’s future. Jesus Lizard opened, Nirvana played second in support of its Sub Pop debut, "Bleach," and Dinosaur Jr. headlined.

"It was all Dinosaur Jr. and The Pixies and Nirvana," said Campbell, "and from then on, it was like a freight train throughout the ’90s."

There was something obviously special about the chemistry of Mascis and Barlow in those first three albums, making for an audible void in Dinosaur’s late, post-Barlow records. They retain Mascis’ recklessly messy stamp, but something’s missing. That’s why Dinosaur’s current tour features songs that appeared on the first three records, save for one deviance: "The Wagon" shows up on the band’s set lists, and it’s a track from 1991’s "Green Mind." It was the band’s first record after Barlow’s ouster.

"I like that song," Barlow said. "I actually suggested that we play it."

The band’s recent reunion has spurred solid reviews and message boards abuzz with vivid accounts of the band’s pummeling wall
of sound. But for one reason or another, it’s all a surprise to the guys in the band.
"It was surprising that it was good," Barlow said. "It felt good. Right away I felt like, ‘Wow, we’re a good band, and I’m glad we’re doing this.’ I really thought that it was possible we might not be a good band, that we wouldn’t have it together as much as I thought we would."

Added Mascis: "I’m surprised sometimes when people show up to the gigs. Last night we were in Jacksonville, Fla., on a Monday night. And it was sold out. And I couldn’t believe it."

Mascis doesn’t talk much about hisdisagreements with Barlow. But Barlow never has shied from that dark period.

When Barlow played an intimate, conversational solo show at the Larimer Lounge a year ago, someone in the crowd shouted over his storytelling, "I liked it better when you hated J." Barlow’s retort: "Who said I didn’t?" Barlow said it took a long while to get over the experience. The music helped.

"It took a lot of mental processing, I guess, on an emotional level to handle the rejection and heartbreak," Barlow said. "But as far as what it did for me musically, I had already had a band when I was kicked out, so I just kept doing that band as a real band and Sebadoh became a touring entity. It takes me a long time to process anything."

Barlow’s reasons to reunite Dinosaur were simple. He was curious what it would be like. He thought it would be a good challenge to play in that style again. And, of course, he needed the money. (The tour comes right after Merge Records’ re- issuing Dinosaur Jr.’s first three records, each coupled with bonus videos.) So far it’s working.

"We figured out a way to make it work, and it’s been pretty easy," Barlow said. "It’s the same, and we’re all still the same, but there’s still a lot of water under the bridge. We just have real goals to play a good show every night, and we’re all pretty much committed to that, and that brings us together and keeps too much (expletive) from intervening."