Dino Sr

So my Monday post was late, and then my Wednesday post didn't happen at all! I am terrible at this whole rigorous-discipline thing.

In my defense, I've had a lot of non-work-related activities to deal with this week. Last night, for instance, I saw Dinosaur Jr (along with a wild supporting cast) play a show at Terminal 5 in Midtown West.

In fact, the composition of that supporting cast was almost as interesting as Dino's set. Few experiences are so surreal as walking into a slick Manhattan club, complete with $8 domestic cans and bouncers wearing fingerless weightlifting gloves, only to see Keith Morris reliving his early-80s glory days on the tricked-out stage. 

Morris's new(est) band Off! opened the show. I hadn't heard them before, but the band name says it all. Like Black Flag, Off! is an insecticide, and like Black Flag, Off! the band plays archetypal LA hardcore. They even got Ray Pettibon to do cover art for them. Though the band was tight and (surprisingly) pretty compelling, the spectacle that is 2011-era Keith Morris dominated their set. His voice is in fine shape, but his appearance speaks to the life he's led. It was touching and a little sad to watch this spaced-out, balding fiftysomething still spitting the same gibbers and rants he's hung his hat on for thirty years. I love hardcore more than most things, but that kind of singleminded devotion suggests a lack of alternatives as much as it does love.

Morris wasn't the only former Black Flag frontman in attendance, either. Before Dinosaur Jr's set (and after Fucked Up, who don't work well in a large space) Henry Rollins trotted J Mascis and the boys out onstage for a very serious Q&A session about the band's roots and interpersonal dynamics.

Now, I think Rolllins is great and I love interviews with quirky musician types, but decision to make them both part of the show baffles me. Dino Jr has never been the most voluble or articulate bunch. It was clear that they were sick of the whole affair from the instant they walked out onstage. Mascis's garbled half-sentences and newfound resemblance to Christopher Lee's Saruman provided a few moments of levity, but the whole affair felt stilted. They'd clearly conducted almost the same interview on previous tour stops, and the audience could tell.

In fact, one audience member was peeved enough to echo the Iraqi press by chucking his shoes at Rollins's head. Hank's ensuing tirade was the high point of the interview. Anyone who's read Get In the Van knows that Rollins has endured (and engaged in) some serious violence onstage. He grinned his way through a litany of jokey veiled threats towards the shoe-thrower before diving back into the interview, all without missing a beat. That kind of stage poise (and, let's face it, fan service) comes only with years and years of experience, and it was as impressive in its own way as the musicianship on display during Dino Jr's set.

And the sideshows were fun, but Dino's set was still the high point of the evening. The band has always served as a showcase for Mascis's guitar work. That's okay with me. The man plays with a classic-rock soulfulness and melodicism that's easy to roughly imitate but nearly impossible to do well. And this set included plenty of nods to their own reputation for self-destruction and live ineptitude. The band performed the entirety of their third album Bug, but made plenty of awkward noise between cuts and even had to start a song over.

The crowning moment of the set was their rendition of album closer "Don't." The song is basically a five-minute guitar jam, built on Barlow's fatalistic bassline and screamed mantra: "Why don't you like me?" But instead of having Barlow blow out his voice, Dino Jr brought out...some dude to sing it. It was just some random kid who'd they'd pulled up onstage to sing at the previous show, and they trucked him down to New York to sing at this one too.

See also: Jonah Hill.

The guy was fat and schlubby, with a gross white-boy afro--imagine a less-cuddly Seth Rogen. He was very excited, very shirtless, and very bad at screaming. I'm something of a connoisseur when it comes to screaming, screeching, bellowing, growling, and gurgling, and this kid was doing just about everything wrong. He overloaded the mic. He didn't support his breath properly. He lost the beat. He yanked out the mic cable at one point. And he almost certainly blew his voice out. Only Mascis's bottomless well of sweet, noise-washed leads saved the performance.

He was awful, and it was perfect. Dinosaur Jr's most interesting aspect is their passive-aggressiveness--they famously used to play so loud at their early bar-and-basement shows that their poppy rock tunes redlined into incomprehensibility. And what could express that desire to alienate fans more clearly than having some pudgy douche sing the climactic song of your set? Not much. Dino Jr's still got it.