Few things are as dependable as a
Dinosaur Jr. record. The band’s post-punk/pre-grunge attack has barely evolved in over thirty years, but that’s been to the trio’s advantage, developing into a signature sound. (An influential one, too – how many bands do you remember trying to imitate Dino Jr. in the late eighties and early nineties?) Whether natural or self-imposed, the band’s limitations – leader
J Mascis’ seemingly lackadaisical vocals and derivative soloing, drummer
Murph’s perfectly functional but unimaginative drumming, bassist
Lou Barlow’s songs sometimes sounding like they’re from a different band entirely – end up being advantages, giving the group a sonic stamp unmistakable for anyone else. It also means that whole-scale overhauls are unlikely, if not impossible, which means the band has spent its career refining its approach, rather than changing it.