As worthy as Dinosaur Jr.’s output has been since their mid-2000s reformation, the group’s work has been tinged with self-consciousness. Where their first three LPs hedged the band’s heroic chops behind ramshackle song structures and slovenly production, post-comeback albums like 2009’s Farm and 2012’s I Bet on Sky buttoned the flannel a bit, mirroring the cleaner, more streamlined sound of their ’90s output, which was mostly J Mascis’ work. By domesticating the Big Muff-induced guitar feedback and leaning into longer songs and the occasional touches of prog, they proved that a bona fide classic-rock trio had been hiding beneath the surface all along. But that polish sometimes gave way to the excessively quirky aimlessness that marked 1997’s Hand It Over before Mascis put Dinosaur Jr. on hiatus. Their last album, 2021’s Sweep It Into Space, maintained the band’s high floor for consistently catchy alt-rock, but its tidy stabs at Kurt Vile-assisted psychedelia sometimes strayed a bit too far from the band’s core of slacker disorder.
On There Near, Dinosaur correct course by shedding any self-seriousness they’ve accrued over the past two decades, and instead wallowing happily in the muck of their formative years. Tracked with the same vintage amplifier used on their homemade debut album, the new material is the messiest and most blown-out music they’ve made this side of the millennium. It’s not quite as filth-caked as, say, Bug, but the effortlessness of it recalls the earlier era, prizing poppy melody and immediate self-expression over grandiosity. The best-loved Dinosaur Jr. records intensify the contrast between Mascis’ sheepish vocal demeanor and the raw transparency of the band’s playing, and those two elements are back in optimal sync here.
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The combination is particularly devastating on the bridge of “No Friends,” where Mascis’ groaned admissions of loneliness unfold alongside an ascending guitar lead that sounds as though it’s sobbing in pain. His soloing is particularly creative here (and throughout the album), breaking from his comfort zone to leap high up on the neck and sacrifice wonkiness for emotion. It’s less Guitar Center demo station than half-finished basement. Dinosaur’s signature Neil Young-inspired chord progressions sound even more melancholic than usual, thanks to the descending basslines on tracks like “Everything at Once” and “Read the Room.” The latter is accented by a tasteful flange effect, serving as a reminder of Mascis’ affinity for the Cure.
“No One’s Ready” is the stronger of There Near’s two obligatory Lou Barlow contributions, and it’s perhaps the song most in keeping with the record’s atavistic ethos. Backed by a shambling rhythm section and jangly chords, it sounds like an alternate-reality Dinosaur that blew up before they were Jr., soldiering on in the acid-fried direction of “Severed Lips.” “Blowin’ Up” is only near-miss here: Its double-tracked chorus is overwrought, and some lines (“There’s nothing quite as bad as a bored edgelord”) recall Sebadoh’s tendency to be painfully on the nose. Fortunately, it’s bailed out by its backing track, which is decorated with strange spurts of static and funky hammer-ons.
