Dinosaur Jr are like an immortal childhood pet. A raggedly loyal, lo-fi mutt who will forever greet you at the door with a happy lick to the face and the same ridiculous tricks.
For nearly two decades musically, nothing has changed.Literally nothing. J Mascis still croaks out his broken heart and plays what he, and always has, shrugged off as a 'bunch of stuff'. Obviously, this includes an obscenely charming and damaged guitar solo, a swamp of feedback and a big hug of barely conscious indifference.
And with the original line up of Murph and Lou Barlow, they have put 1991 into an iconic bubble. J's flowing white main might give him the appearance of an arthritic wizard but close your eyes and Dinosaur J are still in the middle of a long summer, drunkenly lolloping along in flannel shirts, chatting about that cheerful, fresh face Cobain kid. A time when Sonic Youth were about as vintage as child birth and Kim Gordon didn't look like your grandmother. Happy days.
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