March 25, 2005 at 8:03 am #47712
Bucky RamoneParticipantQuote:Doch schon beim nÃ¤chsten HÃ¶ren gab es kein ZurÃ¼ck mehr, wenn man auch nur einen Funken guten Musik-Geschmacks in sich hatte.
de Volkskrant (dutch newspaper) gave the the reissues 10/10 points…
(the review is in a ‘pay-per-article-archive’, alas…. )March 25, 2005 at 12:10 pm #108002
10/10…definitely sounds about right to me!
Love the videos as well, No Bones…March 26, 2005 at 12:13 pm #108003
Another cool, but VERY brief review of YLAOM from The Observer
Dinosaur Jr: Youâ€™re Living All Over Me (Sweet Nothing records)
Forget â€˜Nevermindâ€™, this is the true grunge/slacker classic, reissued in time for the bandâ€™s promised summer reunionMarch 26, 2005 at 12:23 pm #108004
Here’s a link to a new Freakscene members review, originally posted here [img]http://instagiber.net/smiliesdotcom/otn/alienz/zalien.gif[/img]
Didn’t want it to get lost in the news forum, reviews all three reissues…
Thanks for posting the reviews Hugh!March 26, 2005 at 12:40 pm #108005
Great review & a surprise repressing of the FreakScene single in Europe, be sure to check the site, great stuff…
Hello & welcome to RUE-Recommends, where I (RUE) recommend the best new release singles & albums, reissues, discoveries and other oddities.
21st March 2005
Freak Scene single reissued, news to me…very cool news [img]http://instagiber.net/smiliesdotcom/contrib/monsieurboo/ptitmartien.gif[/img]
Dinosaur Jr- â€œFreak Scene/Bulbs of Passionâ€April 1, 2005 at 3:03 pm #108006April 8, 2005 at 12:34 pm #108007April 8, 2005 at 1:00 pm #108008April 8, 2005 at 2:09 pm #108009
Allmusic.com rated the reissues…
YLOAM-5 star rating
Bug-4 1/2 stars
Same rating they gave them when the reviewed they original releasesApril 8, 2005 at 2:46 pm #108010
couple more, Dinosaur only gets 2 stars…
You’re Living All Over Me
The term "underground" has become a romanticized euphemism for anyone choosing to reside on the banks of the cultural mainstream, but when Dinosaur first emerged 20 years ago, they really did look like they crawled out of some subterranean hole. Look at the back cover photo of the band’s 1985 debut — part of a remastered reissues series that coincides with the original lineup’s recent reunion — and you see a freakish image of youth that contrasts sharply with our fanciful, John Hughes-derived memories of the era. There’s guitarist J. Mascis in a botched goth hairdo; nerdlinger, bespectacled bassist Lou Barlow in an awful hand-me-down sweater that even your blind grandma wouldn’t give you for Christmas; and drummer Murph, the consummate greasy-mullet stoner. Obviously, a band formed in the darkest, most neglected corner of the U Mass cafeteria.
I was only 10 when Dinosaur first came out, so I can’t attest first-hand to its alien status even amid the increasingly eclectic mid-’80s US post-hardcore scene but two decades later it still sounds like nothing else indie America has spit out since. That’s not necessarily a good thing — Dinosaur is a confused record by confused young men who aren’t sure if they want to be The Cure, Meat Puppets, The Birthday Party or KISS. But some clarity does emerge from the chaos: the perfect-on-arrival "Repulsion" anticipates Mascis’ future status as the post-punk Neil Young, while the somnambulant ballad "Severed Lips" glows with a quiet grace Mascis would revisit in his later catalogue.
But first he had to get You’re Living All Over Me (1987) out of his system, as traumatic a document of wasted youth as The Ice Storm or River’s Edge, and essentially the noise/pop template that has defined indie-rock ever since. The uncertain sound of Dinosaur’s debut is beaten into peak shape with the ferocity of a maniacal drill sergeant, pitting Barlow’s hardcore-happy basslines against Murph’s bludgeoning, Sabbath-inspired bashing, while Mascis’ peerless fretwork mediates, pointing to both a classic-rock past and a shoegazing future.
But the album’s punishing sonic squalls can’t conceal Mascis’ petrified soul, which expresses the discomfort of social interaction (i.e., talking to girls) in the most grotesque metaphors: collapsed lungs, aching guts, picked scabs; the only moment Mascis finds any real peace is when he’s drowning in slow-motion distortion of "Tarpit." You’re Living All Over Me is that rare album that makes one eye wince in pain and the other bawl like a baby — a classic that’s lost not an ounce of its devastating emotional power.
Bug — released in 1988 shortly after Dinosaur added the "Jr." in response to litigation threats from a similarly named ’60s rock band — begins with arguably the definitive Dino statement, "Freak Scene," which did for suburban ennui what Nirvana’s "Smells Like Teen Spirit" did for adolescent angst three years later. The stop-start thrasher "They Always Come" is a less-celebrated but equally exhilarating highpoint, while the rest of Bug comes off as a more refined take on You’re Living All Over Me’s fuzzbox dramas. But it also marks the moment Dinosaur Jr. became less defined by tense group dynamics and more by Mascis’ languorous demeanour. (Following Bug’s release, Barlow was ousted and formed Sebadoh, while Mascis turned Dino Jr. into a major-label player.)
These reissues feature little in the way of extras: the mix is of course more brutally loud; Mascis’ mumbles are more audible; and among the small handful of bonus audio/video tracks, You’re Living includes their essential cover of The Cure’s "Just Like Heaven." But then as anyone who’s ever had the (dis)pleasure of interviewing Mascis( cg) will tell you, the man
doesn’t say anything more than needs to be said. And when it comes to history’s most enduring, influential indie-rock anthems, the conversation starts and pretty much ends right here. STUART BERMANApril 8, 2005 at 2:57 pm #108011
couple more, can’t say I agree with Bug being a sell out & Dino Jr no longer being relevant after the 1st 3 releases..but Hey!April 9, 2005 at 8:25 pm #108012
In their (paper) magazine the reissues are this month’s ‘Deserted Island Disc’
The review (if I have some time left this weekend I might do a translation….):
Uit de hardcoreband Deep Wound met J Mascis als drummer en Lou Barlow als gitarist ontstond begin jaren tachtig Dinosaur Jr. Toen Deep Wound in de herfst van â€™84 stopte, schakelde J over op gitaar met de versterker op 10. Invloeden kwamen uit de new wave, hardcore, rock, goth, metal, folk en country. Ze vonden een drummer in Murph en Lou switchte naar de bas. De harcore invloeden komen het beste tot uiting op hun debuutalbum getiteld Dinosaur. Vooral live speelden hard, fel en agressief. Op Dinosaur zijn naast hardcore-roots ook melancholische liedjes te horen. Het tweede album Youâ€™re Living All Over Me wordt wel hun beste werk genoemd. De liedjes die onder een dikke laag noise zaten, komen meer naar boven. En het zijn goede liedjes: melodieus, intens en gepassioneerd. Tekstueel zijn het emotionele nummers, soms ironisch, maar vooral bitter. En persoonlijk. Net als Meat Puppets, Black Flag en Husker Du vond de groep onderdak bij het roemruchte SST label. J Mascis zei zelf over het geluid van Youâ€™re Living All Over Me dat het â€˜fucked up and incompetentâ€™ was. Ze hebben met dit album echt hun eigen stem gevonden al moet de groepsnaam verlengd worden met Jr.: er bestond namelijk al een Dinosaur. Het werd door de fans gezien als een statement en nu zijn ze bekend mÃ©t toevoeging. Bug is het derde album dat opnieuw uitgebracht wordt. Het is duidelijk te merken dat de songs meer structuur en uitwerking krijgen. Hier is alles op zijn plaats gevallen met de song Freak ScÃ¨ne als hoogtepunt. Persoonlijk ging het in deze tijd met de bandleden niet zo goed. J maakte alle songs en had precies bedacht hoe de iedereen zijn partijen zou spelen. Vooral Lou ontwikkelde zich als songschrijver en voelde zich meer en meer beperkt. Op het podium kon dit juist goed uitpakken want het gaf een extra dimensie aan de energieke en sombere muziek. Deze eerste drie albums zijn een organische eenheid van schoonheid en warmte. Op de rand van hardcore, doorstromend naar het gitaargeweld van de nineties. Ze zijn de kinderen van Sonic Youth en de broertjes van The Pixies en Guided By Voices. Ze hebben de loper uitgelegd voor Nirvana, maar zijn zelf nooit meer geworden dan gewaardeerde cultfiguren.April 12, 2005 at 1:02 pm #108013
Reissued Dinosaur Jr., Roaring Back to Life
By Ivan Kreilkamp
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, April 3, 2005; Page N07
Dinosaur Jr.’s influential first three mid- to late-1980s albums have just been reissued and remastered, with videos, new photos and excellent liner notes by Byron Coley, on the Merge Records label.
The group was one of a small number of American bands that might have had a chance at beating Nirvana to the punch. Had that happened, Dinosaur Jr. might have sold a gazillion records and broken punk rock into the mainstream.
Instead, the band achieved college-radio fame, created a few of alternative rock’s greatest albums, disintegrated into personal psychodrama, and then, in 1989, broke up in all but name. The six albums released under the name Dinosaur Jr. after 1988’s "Bug" were essentially J. Mascis solo records; they’re middling-to-good but not the real thing.
Dinosaur Jr. (originally Dinosaur) was formed by three teenagers in western Massachusetts. Lou Barlow and J. Mascis’s hard-core punk band, Deep Wound, transmogrified in 1984 into Dinosaur, with Mascis on guitar and vocals, Barlow on bass and occasional vocals, and Patrick Murphy (aka Murph) on drums.
The band’s first, eponymous album was largely ignored at the time; its next, 1987’s "You’re Living All Over Me," made them underground stars. Its first song, "Little Fury Things," begins abruptly in a wall of extreme guitar distortion that was familiar from the likes of Husker Du and Sonic Youth, but no less stomach-churning in its assault.
Way back in the mix, Barlow screams three questions at full wail — "What is it? Who is it? Where is it?" — and then, is that . . . a wah-wah pedal? Before startled hipsters could even formulate that last question, the song turns into a devastatingly gorgeous melody as Mascis softly croons something about a rabbit, a woman who runs away "faster than I crawl," sunlight and rage. The wall of guitars returns, louder and denser every time.
The music bridged the gap between the likes of Sonic Youth and such hitherto disavowed 1960s and ’70s predecessors as Neil Young (and, as Mascis himself later stressed, the Rolling Stones and Creedence Clearwater Revival); the songs married beautiful and catchy melodies to aggressively extreme guitar noise.
In the center of it all in live performances was Mascis himself, an unmoving enigma behind long thin hair, mumbling into his mike as the passionate nerd Barlow flailed around next to him. If Mascis had had the ambition, work ethic and perhaps generosity of spirit that all seemed beyond his grasp, it’s possible Dinosaur Jr. might have pulled off the trick Kurt Cobain achieved a few years later.
All that’s full-blown and undeniable on "You’re Living All Over Me" is exploratory and shaky on the band’s earlier debut, "Dinosaur Jr." "Gargoyle" recalls the 1960s psychedelia of Love’s Forever Changes; the beautiful "Severed Lips" and the metal ballad "Repulsion" are suffused by clammy teen alienation and masturbatory desire; "Does it Float" begins in southwestern-flavored punk/country mode, Ã la the Meat Puppets, and then erupts into a frightening mass of noise and primal screaming (the latter was the frustrated Barlow’s specialty; he later had the last laugh when he became a lo-fi icon with his own group, Sebadoh).
All in all, the album is one of the era’s most winningly original and weird. "Bug" was where Mascis started channeling his genius into a kind of formula: It’s full of great songs — such as the college-radio hit "Freak Scene" — that encapsulate the band’s talents but that give off a first faint whiff of the routine. Soon thereafter, Mascis fired Barlow and commenced his disappointing (yeah right ) 1990s career as a slacker guitar god.April 12, 2005 at 1:26 pm #108014
Homestead (r. Merge 2005)
A little over a decade after T. Rex and two before Mastodon, there was Dinosaur Jr. Less thunderous and gigantic than both bands, Dinosaur Jr. wore that "Junior" proud, even if it was a latter day add-on from discovering another band with the same name. The scruffy Bostonian trio of J. Mascis, Lou Barlow and a drummer simply named "Murph" took on a new form of punk rock that was at once more palatable, yet more outrageous than what came before it. Influenced by the rootsy but chaotic songwriting and guitar playing of Neil Young, Dinosaur Jr. was turning a new leaf in punk rock and paving the way for the golden age of "indie rock."
Dinosaur Jr’s first record, Dinosaur, when compared to the rest of their work, almost sounds like early material from bass player Lou Barlow’s later band, Sebadoh. It’s lo-fi, fast, catchy and energetic. But at the same time, J. Mascis’ guitar playing and charmingly imperfect voice lent an intensity to the band that Barlow’s more emotional material cast aside. Put in context, this album came out a year after Zen Arcade, three years before Daydream Nation and Surfer Rosa, six years before Loveless and almost ten before There’s Nothing Wrong With Love. That’s an impressive jump into the game, even if their first album wasn’t as gigantic as the groundbreaking album that followed, You’re Living All Over Me.
Regardless, Dinosaur shows the band in its infancy, taking on a decidedly more straightforward punk approach. Like Husker Du and The Minutemen before them, Dinosaur Jr. was re-defining American punk rock. The fuzzed-out opener "Bulbs of Passion" is the defining song of the set, a slower but heavier track that showed both a melodic and an ear-achingly loud side of the band. But the band shows off many sides to their sound on this debut set. "Forget the Swan" and "The Leper" are straightforward and fast-paced punk rockers. "Pointless" is the meeting point between melody and agony. And "Repulsion" is among the catchiest of the band’s material, even if it never had the exposure that "Start Choppin’" or "I Feel The Pain" did.
A good eight years or so before being accepted into the Alternative Nation, Dinosaur Jr. was a small but intense indie rock trio with something to prove. Pain can sound beautiful and punk rock can have guitar heroes. The indie rock world owes much to Mascis, Barlow and Murph. Just listen to all of your favorite records released in the `90s and try hard not to find a little Dinosaur in `em.
You’re Living All Over Me
SST (r. Merge 2005)
There have only been a few indie rock guitar gods. Thurston Moore is one. Doug Martsch is another. And then of course, there’s J. Mascis. A monster guitar player, songwriter and notoriously bad interview subject, Mascis, along with his bandmates in Dinosaur Jr. helped shape the Boston indie rock sound of the late `80s and early `90s. But when it comes to the album that defined the era, it usually comes down to two essential releases â€” The Pixies’ Surfer Rosa and Dinosaur Jr.’s You’re Living All Over Me.
Considered the finest entry of the Dinosaur canon, You’re Living All Over Me is a guitar album for the punk rockers. It’s heavily steeped equally in Neil Young and Husker DÃ¼. And what’s more, the guitars are almost deafeningly loud. Mascis’ style is noisy and a tad sloppy, but nonetheless overwhelming and threatening to your eardrums. At the time, there were few albums that dared blur the line between classic rock guitar heroics and the energy and aesthetic of punk rock. D. Boon of the Minutemen said that Dinosaur Jr. sounded like the East Coast Meat Puppets, to which Mascis replied that that’s what his intent was.
Considering their contemporaries at the time (Sonic Youth, Meat Puppets, Husker Du), it makes perfect sense that Living was released on SST, a landmark indie label that launched the careers of many a lo-fi icon. And as it turns out, You’re Living All Over Me is one of the greatest records to be released on SST. Practically every song is a classic on this collection, which was just reissued by Merge. Opener "Little Fury Things," also released as a seven-inch back in the day, sounds like the American equivalent of the shoegazer movement in Britain, only about a year earlier. "Kracked" is a fast-paced punk rocker with one of the best riffs in indie rock history, albeit one that the band merely teased us with before abandoning it altogether. And "SludgeFeast" is exactly what the title promises, a murky, distorted swamp of frenzied soloing. "Raisans" is melodic and catchy, one of the less noisy and more straightforward tracks on the album.
Just as important as Mascis’ guitar acrobatics, however is Lou Barlow’s tight, straightforward bass playing, which laid a solid groundwork for J’s stringed flights of fancy. Nowhere is it more apparent than on "In a Jar," in which Barlow’s bass almost upstages Mascis’ axe. Not that he gets all that showy. But the song is mixed in such a way that the bass is somewhat more noticeable amidst the gossamer washes of major chords. What’s more, Barlow even began his long career of self-recording with "Poledo," a song that he recorded himself at home. It almost sounds out of place on the album, but it breaks up the noisy chaos for five minutes, just before the final track â€” a cover of The Cure’s "Just Like Heaven." Faithful but, nonetheless, Mascis-ized, the song is among the best on the album. And what seems even more entertaining is that it was released in the same year as The Cure’s original. Few bands would be able to get away with that sort of audacious novelty, but in the case of Dinosaur Jr., it’s actually a great cover version.
There’s no doubt that J. Mascis is one of the greatest guitar players in indie rock history. That isn’t to say he hit every note just perfectly. That wasn’t the point. This was the meeting point between the Monsters of Rock and the DIY punk ethos. Alternative rock as we know it wouldn’t be anything without Dinosaur Jr. or You’re Living All Over Me.
SST (r. Merge 2005)
Dinosaurs once ruled the earth. These massive creatures walked the surface, leaving ripples of devastation in their respective wakes. They were loud, ferocious, dominating and majestic. They were, as their name is interpreted, `fearfully great.’ The last vestiges of the dinsoaurs are all but extinct, a few creatures here and there showing obvious evolutionary adaptations from the originals, the last few signs of a remarkable age. One can learn quite a lot studying the Dinosaurs, and one would have thought, considering their unique abilities, that they would have roamed the earth forever, but as Yeats said, Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. And thus, Bug came to be the Dinosaur’s last album from the original trio. Well, what did you think I was talking about?
Picture it if you will, the year is 1988, and the world is growing weary of its alternative idols. The British pop music scene was on the decline, seeing the loss of Echo & the Bunnymen, Duran Duran was all but passÃ©, and the keyboard was losing favor. Music listeners were eager to accept something new, something which spoke to their feelings of alienation from a world of glam and selfishness, which is why the explosion of rap music touched some and why albums like Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation, My Bloody Valentine’s Isn’t Anything and the Pixies’ Surfer Rosa had such an impact.
Right alongside those albums can be placed Dinosaur Jr.’s Bug, the third album from the band, and the last to feature the original trio of J. Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Murph. The band never got as big as their local peers the Pixies, but their music was just as influential. Take the fact that "Freak Scene," easily the best, and definitely the most talked about song on the third record, came three years before another song of alienation, Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit, broke big. The former song, just as the latter, is now called one of the best indie rock songs ever written. Bug as a whole is an incredible guitar record, just as guitar rock was becoming popular once again.
I remember going to one of my brother’s band’s shows early and watching the sound check. It was at a popular Seattle venue and the sound guy was old and grizzled, as if he had been touring with the Stones or the Dead forever. My brother played the guitar as he always has, loud and brash. He asked if it was `too’ loud. The sound man replied, "Hey, I’ve done sound for J. Mascis, don’t worry about it." Bug is J. Mascis through and through, although more polished and accessible than the previous guitar-heavy albums. Mascis wrote every song, to the point of telling Lou and Murph exactly how he wanted them to sound. Funnily enough, he even wrote the song "Don’t," featuring Lou Barlow screaming repeatedly, "Why don’t you like me?" The irony was not lost.
While the band did not sell millions of records, their influence was widely felt. It is rumored that upon the subsequent tour for Bug, hordes of British bands were influenced into creating a new verison of pop music, and the idea of `shoegazing.’ Whether that’s true or not, I do not know, but the fact that Dinosaur Jr. is often mentioned in the same breath as Nirvana, My Bloody Valentine, the Pixies, and Pearl Jam is a testament to their legacy. That it was the last album with all three original members puts the record in a bittersweet light, the epitome of a band dissolving at the top of their game, and the clichÃ© of personal friction feeding great music. Barlow and Mascis, who were once best friends, could not continue. They both went on to become successful solo artists and have other important collaborations, of course. You, after all, don’t live in a hole in the ground. But to many, Bug is a defining moment in their memory, remind them of their high school days, and how once, Dinosaurs once ruled the earth.
04.04.2005April 12, 2005 at 2:06 pm #108015
You’re Living All Over Me
Anyone too young to have heard these albums when they were first released in the mid-’80s may find them quaint. But back in those dark days before Nirvana broke and alternative rock wasn’t part of the lexicon, this trio of flannel-flying slackers from Massachusetts was creating a killer musical template. The formula — alternate monster guitar freak-outs with painfully introspective, sensitive-guy vocalizing and repeat — wasn’t strictly a Dinosaur Jr. invention, but at the time no other band was as raw and suitably shambling. The 1985 self-titled debut is messy and haphazard, but it established the group’s on/off/on dynamic, and its big song "Repulsion" allows front man J. Mascis a notable eruption of guitar heroics. You’re Living All Over Me from 1987 is not only a stinging put-down, it’s a rock masterpiece. From the roiling shockwave guitar and minor key melancholy of "Little Fury Things" to the closing cover of the Cure’s "Just Like Heaven," Mascis proves he has much more in common with Neil Young than unruly hair. And the rhythm section (co-songwriter Lou Barlow on bass, Murph on drums) meshes perfectly. By 1988’s Bug, the band’s sound became formalized and its principals, Mascis and Barlow, were feuding like an unhappy married couple. But songs like "Freak Scene," a seamlessly sculpted monument of ecstatic guitar solos, solidified the group’s lasting influence.
— Steve Dollar
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