After more than 30 years spent redefining the limits of loud, melodic alternative rock, there isn’t a lot left to say about Dinosaur Jr. Frontman J. Mascis’ earworm six-string explosions and drawling slacker-savant vocals are instantly recognizable to anyone with a passing knowledge of modern music. Bassist Lou Barlow, famously fired by Mascis in 1989 before the two finally reconciled in the late ’90s, provides the perfect snap-crackle-pop, low-end complement to Patrick “Murph” Murphy’s rumbling drums. From the plodding propulsion of 1989’s cover of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” to 1994’s bone-dry hit “Feel the Pain,” to defining late-period jams like “Almost Ready” and “Over It,” you know a Dinosaur Jr. song when you hear it.
Even more impressive, under the gauze of heavy ’70s psych, blasts of punk-rock energy, and the buzz-saw distortion for which Dinosaur Jr. became famous, there resides genuinely raw emotion (the hallmark of good alternative rock before the music industry bastardized the term in the wake of Nirvana’s early ’90s runaway success). Impressively, the original lineup’s reunion in 2007 has resulted in some of Dinosaur Jr.’s best work, with the 2016 masterpiece Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not earning legit best-in-career accolades from persnickety rock critics like Henry Rollins.
Folio Weekly spoke with the band’s drummer Murph, discussing the 30-year mark, the release of what many consider the band’s best record and learning to love Dinosaur Jr.’s dysfunction.
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Folio Weekly: Correct us if we’re wrong, but you guys are playing a lot of bigger venues on this tour, right? We’ve seen you at Jack Rabbits and Freebird so many times, it’s going to be weird to see you play Mavericks Live here in Jacksonville.
Murph: We always play some of those venues—it just feels like we’re playing more of them now. The latest record has done really well; it’s more accessible, less punk rock and more song-oriented and, generally, you get a bigger audience when you do that. We’re also getting better and more seasoned. J is better at his craft of songwriting, we’re all getting better at playing together, and it shows. Everything sounds better.
During the writing and recording of Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not, did anything immediately stand out to you as far more improved or enhanced?
Actually, no. It’s weird for me because we do drums first, then I leave. Lou and I aren’t even there when J is doing his guitar and vocals, so we don’t hear a record until it’s finished. It’s always been that way. Everyone wants their space. The thing I did notice about this record was that it was super-focused, even though it was put together last minute. We had a date to record but didn’t have any material, and I was freaking out. But J and Lou work better under pressure. I like to plan things out and practice, whereas those guys do better cramming the night before the test so they can go in and power through it. That’s what happened with this record. We had nothing, then all of a sudden the material started flowing.
It kind of felt like the album and tour in the immediate wake of its release was a 30th anniversary celebration—you had Henry Rollins introducing you and special guests like Bob Mould coming out every night. Did it feel special for you all? Perhaps like Dinosaur Jr. was entering a higher plane of cultural significance?
We just keep doing what we do. I don’t know if we’re all fatalists or cynics, but we never think things are going to last, so when, say, Henry Rollins introduces us, we just see it as spiking like a graph—like we were at this cool high point that we enjoyed in the moment.
Henry did say that he thought your drumming on Give a Glimpse of What Yer Not was the best in Dinosaur Jr.’s history—that must have felt good.
He’s always been a huge idol of mine. I was really intimidated hanging on the bus with him last year. It was exciting but also uncomfortable—weird but exhilarating.
What kind of music do you listen to these days?
A lot of times, we listen to who we’re touring with. So recently that’s been Kurt Vile, Heron Oblivion and Cloud Nothings. When I’m at home, I’m always rediscovering a lot of obscure prog jazz-fusion stuff. My nephew has been auditioning for the Boston Conservatory, Manhattan School and Juilliard, so he’s turned me on to all these cool jam bands like Snarky Puppy. As a band, we don’t have a collective consciousness. That used to happen when we were younger, but we’re very separate and set in our ways now. We all retreat to our little corners to get inspired, then bring that inspiration back to the table together as a band.
So have each of you transcended the communication issues that plagued Dinosaur Jr. in the past?
It’s better, but it’s still dysfunctional—like any family. We still get frustrated with each other. But that’s normal. You’re always striving. You never arrive, in any relationship—marriage, friendship. You may have moments where you arrive, but everything takes work, especially long-term. As you get older, you find it’s more about sustainability, not about the end goal. It’s more the journey or the process. That’s where the magic lies, in the tension and the discomfort. And it’s always going to be that way for us. Which I guess means the magic’s always going to be there. We’ve accepted the fact that that’s who we are.
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