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Rating: August Fifth, Two Thousand and Five. Night of stars in Urbino.
The characteristic town in the Marche region had awakened early in the afternoon, becoming the destination for a peaceful invasion of young people and others, all politely adrift in anticipation of the night event.
The event is represented by the only Italian date of the reformed Dinosaur jr!
Yes indeed, J. Mascis and Lou Barlow put aside solo projects and old misunderstandings and, with trusty drummer Patrick Murphy (known as "Murph") reunite to play together after 16 years!
All thanks to the festival "Frequenze Disturbate", which on the first of three indie-rock evenings gifts us Mascis & Co., currently on tour to "celebrate" the reissue of their first three albums: "Dinosaur" (1985), "You’re Living All Over Me" (1987), and "Bug" (1988).
In the charming medieval setting of the Albornoz abbey, at 7 PM the show begins with this lineup:
1) One Dimensional Man – precise and powerful, too bad they don't sing in Italian.
2) Jennifer Gentle – perhaps a bit too brit-pop and slow for the evening
3) The Raveonettes – the real surprise: skilled, engaging, harder compared to the CDs
4) Julian Cope – a glam clown of Iggy Pop and M.Manson – complete with self-injury and bloodshed!
At 11 PM the first dinosaur appears to set up his equipment: it’s Lou Barlow, who due to his intellectual glasses and eternal adolescent hoodie blends perfectly with the staff, so no applause starts!
Then it’s Murph’s turn (completely shaved!) who moves the drums to the front row, almost to the edge of the stage. Mascis is absent, but instead, a wall of Marshall amplifiers, Vox, two Fender Mustangs, a dozen pedals, and other contraptions that take up 1/3 of the space is assembled. Suddenly, his figure is visible and the audience greets him with an ovation: visibly heavier, long completely white hair (!!!), a Canadian lumberjack hat, purple Adidas sweatshirt, and a relaxed demeanor... a bizarre combination of Carlo Vanzina and an Indian shaman, our hero should be 40 years old but looks at least 10 years older!
Fifteen minutes of sound-check just to confirm his proverbial meticulousness and the concert can begin.
The shaman greets everyone with a laconic "Hi!" and then starts with the fury of his vintage Mustang.
A devastating wave of melodic noise hits me completely and from that moment, I don't care about anything else because it’s been a while since I've been enveloped by such a damn carefully curated yet so damn noisy sound.
In an instant, I leap into the past and forget everything: I’m 15 years old, a shy, troubled, long-haired, pimply teenager, alone in my room with headphones on, venting my inner satisfaction by drawing monsters on a sheet of white paper.
The Dinosaurs are in great shape: Mascis, despite the 20 extra kilos, moves well, plays as only he knows how (how the hell he sees with all that hair in front of his eyes remains a mystery), and sings decently... indeed, he even allows Barlow to sing/scream three songs limiting himself to backing vocals! Maybe the white hair is really a sign of maturity?!
Lou, also shy, is definitely more sociable and interacts better with the audience ("Thank you… Hi… We’re Dinosaur Jr. from Amherst, Massachusetts USA!"), but folkly implodes soon after kicking off sebadohishly with the devastating bass of "Kraked".
The Three Musketeers cover almost all of "You’re Living All Over Me" and everyone gets the chills: the slowdown and thunderous accelerations of "Sludgefeast", Murph’s crazy drumming in "The Lung", the screaming guitars of "Little Fury Things", the melody of "Raisans"...
Mascis' voice is the usual lazy and drawling one but live it becomes less paranoid and much angrier, while the guitar is a magical emotional swing.
Sometimes distorted and dirty, sometimes ultra-melodic and clean, technically Joseph shifts from punk/lo-fi to hard core/metal and with his wonderful old-school pedals, enriches phrases with all possible effects: chorus, flanger, delay, wah-wah…
Murph is a train-combine without brakes! He beats on those drums like a madman forcing technicians to go up on stage every 10 minutes to adjust the mics on the instrument that quickly jump off!
Barlow again, with his way of playing like a schizoid professor, takes care to dedicate a memorable performance of "Forget the Swan" from the first album that “perhaps not everyone knows” but deserves to be remembered.
The show continues with some pogable tracks from "Bug" like "They Always Come", "Let it Ride", and "Budge" culminating in the wonderful cover of the Cure "Just Like Heaven" where Barlow spits out all the intestinal anger to shout that "Youuuuuuuu!" of primordial astonishment.
No time to clap and Mascis tricks everyone by jumping into the evil three chords of "Freak Scene". It’s the apotheosis!
Beautiful evening and beautiful people… the pogo is moderate, and you can comfortably sip a beer even in the front rows.
I am surrounded by a well-mannered fleet of pseudo-alternative people wearing Converse All-Stars and brand new, nicely ironed new t-shirts of Sonic Youth, Pixies, Husker-Du, Nirvana… and there’s one guy who even risks a Dream Theater t-shirt: no, he didn’t attend the wrong concert, he just hasn’t understood anything in life.
While I hum those melodies that seem glued to my memory like candy wrappers, I am surprised to notice that at least a good 40% of the audience is over 35!
I hypothesize that those "adults" came here to accompany their children… but suddenly I catch the spirited gaze of an unsuspecting jacketed forty-year-old who exclaims: "These guys were grunge before grunge was even invented!"
August Fifth, Two Thousand and Five. Night of stars in Urbino. Tremble, the Dinosaurs have returned.
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