J Mascis Is Still God
This is very 1993 of me, but today's post is going to be about Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis, because sandwiched on the bill between the Meat Puppets and headliners, Built To Spill, last Thursday in New York, his band dominated--easily. Even though he pretty much just stands there and plays, J Mascis is one weirdly compelling frontman. Psychological guesswork is a bit of a fool's game, but there's something obviously and appealingly neurotic about a dude who mumbles songs about insecurity, his face hidden Cousin Itt-style behind long gray hair, while he blasts out aggressively loud folk-metal, which on this night included grungy classics like "Feel The Pain" and "Sludgefeast." Plenty of wallflowers turn into hams when the lights go on, but Mascis comes off like he's scared of people at the exact same time as he's throwing thunderbolts from his Jazzmaster. It's a neat trick.
Meat Puppets and Built To Spill also set aside long stretches of their sets for guitar heroics, but while the former's Curt Kirkwood and the latter's Doug Martsch are great and distinctive guitarists, there were moments when they noodled aimlessly. Not so with Mascis. Even his longest solos exude form and melody. The notes rise and rise, pushed along by Murph's fill-crazy drumming and Lou Barlow's fat bass chords, but they never plateau. Fifteen years after Mascis appeared on the cover of Spin along with the words "J Mascis Is God," the man's skills haven't dipped.
Quick story: I met Mascis once. I was killing time outside of a Dinosaur Jr. show--this is four or five years ago--when a Chinese food delivery car pulled up in front of the club. After a minute, Mascis came out of the side entrance to retrieve his order. I went over to say hey. To imply that Mascis barely replied would be to exaggerate the impassivity of his response--a sort of miniscule eyebrow raise. It was an incredibly awkward moment. To fill the silence, I told him I was looking forward to hearing some face-melting guitar playing. He opened his lips about a quarter of an inch, made no sound, and closed them again. Then he turned and shuffled back into the club with his food. About an hour later, Mascis melted my f***ing face. Like I said, it's a neat trick.
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