Almost twenty years after the event, it's easy to dismiss Dinosaur Jr as a pre-grunge, proto-slacker cartoon based around the supremely lackadaisical J Mascis. Yeah, "Freak Scene" (from 1988's "Bug") was a popcore classic to rival Husker Du at their most melodic, but generally it was sludgey mumbling all the way, wasn't it? Well, not quite. On the evidence of this remastered re-release of Dino's career peak, 1987's "You're Living All Over Me" it seems a re-evaluation is long overdue.
The first thing that strikes you is just how damn influential the album turned out to be. Of course, Mascis, bassist Lou Barlow (later of Sebadoh) and drummer Murph, had studied long and hard at the feet of friends and mentors Sonic Youth, learning how to splurge fuzz noise over their inspired collision of country rock and straight ahead melodic hardcore, but the result is entirely their own - and one that the UK was quick to emulate.
Legend has it that My Bloody Valentine, then in their "Sunny Sundae Smile" noise jangle incarnation, overhauled their sound after seeing Dino at ULU in London (and, legend is right - your LAUNCH correspondent was at the same show). Certainly, opener "Little Fury Things" sounds like a run-up to the almost-there bleeding noisepop of "Loveless". J's guitar oozes white noise, occasionally building to a full barrage of scree, while the
not-quite-caring, not-quite-not-caring-either vocal style clearly informed Kevin Shields' own buried technique. The epic scope of "Sludgefeast", meanwhile, set the template for first the gasoline drenched road anthems of Swervedriver and then the mini scene of the early '90s known as Camden Lurch.
What impresses most about "You're Living All Over Me", however, isn't just the innovation in terms of songwriting, but the sheer barrage of noise that J Mascis manages to coax out of his guitar. Truly, six simple strings and a rack of effects pedals have never sounded quite so feral since. On "Sludgefeast", he summons volcanic lava flows of fuzz, creating planet wide swathes of sound that manage to engulf both cacophonous feedback and sweet, simple melodicism.
"The Lung" is quieter but no less impressive, seemingly bending keys and downtuning while the tune plays itself out. This was punk in the details, stretching and distorting notes rather than simply trashing them, and then letting extra layers of glorious noise flood over the top of it all. Guitar solos in J Mascis' hands were noble creations rather than smug and self-indulgent, yet more astonishing self-expression. In contrast, his vocals appeared to be swimming against the tide in the songs, struggling in the opposite direction to everything else somehow.
The schism between Barlow and Mascis (that would later lead to the former being sacked from the band) was apparent even then, however. Lou's "Lose" is an urgent grungecore classic that allows J to solo away to his heart's content. But his other song here, "Poledo" is an faux experimental mess, half neo-Beck folk, half random noise and a voice intoning 'Jesus Jesus' (critics of the day, perhaps). Barlow would eventually refine his folk side with Sebadoh, of course, but it all seems out of place on this album. Mascis manages to be far more out there without sacrificing any of his focus.
Inevitably, the original trio have put aside their differences and reformed for a cash-in tour later this year. But remember Dinosaur Jr not for a boozy night out howling along to "Freak Scene", but for this - an undervalued yet extremely important record that took noise pop into a thrilling new realm. And, if that's not enough for you, chucked on the end of this re-release is Dino's version of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven", which sticks pretty faithfully to the original before suddenly opening the gates of hell, unleashing seven shades of demonic metal. And then, best of all, it just stops.
