Dinosaur Jr.

Dinosaur Jr.
Farm
(Jagjaguwar, 2009)

Guitar eaters: Dinner is served. This is one unrelenting smorgasbord of electric leads, rhythms, and solos, distortion-battered and dunked in the oil by a slack-voiced modern master with a little help from his friends. Early on, scorned/rejoined bassist Lou Barlow was touting this reunited outfit’s semi-sophomore effort (that is, the second since the original trio reunited—it’s the fifth album consisting of this particular lineup, and if we count the handful of fully Mascis-dominated LPs from group’s post-Barlow ’90s, Farm is the ninth album overall released under the Dinosaur Jr. name) as a big step up from the last one. “Right away I knew it was superior to Beyond,” Barlow told Spin back in March, because “it has an urgency.” Indeed, the band does sound like they’re crankin’ it out in a hurry, and it’s a pretty barebones arrangement—guitar, bass, guitar, drums, and guitar, although there’s only one guitarist, and if his dominance in the mix doesn’t make it obvious enough, it’s worth noting that J. Mascis is also the producer and central songwriter. Barlow does contribute two originals of his own, so it’s not entirely a one-man show, and the shifts in style between Mascis and Barlow are among the bigger differentiations on an otherwise very constant batch of rock. When the constant happens to be Dinosaur Jr., it’s tempting not to complain; however, when the album comes described as sounding “like the first three,” that’s not only a bit of a stretch, but it opens up a world of comparisons that obviously won’t work out in favor of the new stuff.

Lyrically, there’s the requisite insecurity, dread, and complacence that we’ve always loved about Dinosaur Jr., and it translates well enough out from the twisted Gen X angst of yore to new-millennial, near-midlife malaise. The differences are in the production values (which are decidedly “grown up,” despite the subtly strived-for aesthetic of scrappiness—these guys are just too comfortable in the studio at this point to dumb it down), and the melodies, which are just a little more frequently and poppily upbeat, and harbor just a few more classic-rock references. Barlow’s stated urgency may have kept things moving swiftly and saved them from over-thinking, but the tension that once tore them apart (to which many have attributed the excellence of their old melodies and structures) seems absent. Not only is there scarcely any evidence of the bass/guitar interplay that once held songs taut like the poles inside a tent, but really there’s hardly any noteworthy bass at all; certainly nothing like the backbone lead of You’re Living All Over Me’s “In a Jar” or the spry punk underline of Dinosaur’s “Does It Float.”

Equally significantly absent is any sign of that quintessentially “indie” acoustic jangle that gilds the hearts of classics like “Sideways” (off ’91’s Whatever’s Cool with Me) or such whippersnappin’ Dino pillars as Bug’s show-stopping bonus track “Keep the Glove” and their cover of the Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” (which, depending on how much one loves the Cure, one might go so far as to say it’s even better than the original). That little bit of acoustic guitar has actually gone a long way on every single Dinosaur Jr. album up to this point, as even Beyond had at least a smidge of acoustic accompaniment hidden in the shadow of the plaintive electric lead of “We’re Not Alone.” On Farm, a relatively relaxed number like “Ocean in the Way”, with its slowed-down bridge that evokes a great rippling body of water, could’ve stood to allow some element of driftwood guitar to float into the mix. Even “See You”, Farm’s pared-down, seemingly Where You Been-era addition, could have benefited from a touch of the unplugged rustle that underscored the emotions of the latter album’s dreariness, and brought so many other Dinosaur Jr. songs and albums to life.

While Dinosaur Jr. (or J. Mascis, anyway) has always been given to clever hooks and catchy leads, there are a couple of flourishes on Farm that push that envelope a little further than in previous efforts, and maybe just a little too far. “Over It”, for example, starts off with some guitar squawks not too big a step away from ’80s hair band monkey business. “Friends”, on the other hand, is an example of both what’s right and what’s wrong with the quirk, as what starts off cheesy quickly unfolds into a fully enjoyable nod to Big Star, with Barlow’s bass so comically distant in the mix it summons notions of good-time summertime as it rumbles quietly in the background like a lawnmower somewhere down the block. The chorus jockeys a guitar phrase not unlike the main riff in Tom Petty’s “Runnin’ Down a Dream”, yet as a testament to Mascis’ guitar lordship, even seven songs into the set his solo splashes refreshingly.

Farm has a lot going for it, though whether or not it’s better than Beyond remains to be seen. Like Beyond, it’s clearly not better than the band’s material from back in the day, which is due in part to the production, but not entirely. The shifts, from Mascis’ energy to Barlow’s stern and steady stompers, are welcome moments of diversity that only occur twice and aren’t enough to keep a listener from skipping around. Depending on where one’s skip touches back down, one might also wind up skipping onto some other album altogether. For its strengths, however, and by its virtue of carrying one hell of a torch, it’s at least worth spending a bit of your summer on Dinosaur Jr.’s Farm. Think of it as indie rock CSA: Whether or not it bears much fruit, it’s still nice that it’s there.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Tags: Dinosaur Jr, Farm, Jagjaguwar