I spent the last two nights with Dinosaur Jr. in two different New York City honky-tonks.
There is something slightly strange about that sentence until you stop and remember that the original concept for Dinosaur Jr was “ear-bleeding country.”
The two nights were part of a run of shows put together by Fender, placing Dinosaur Jr. in rooms considerably smaller than the amount of amplification they brought with them.
These rooms are built for a different kind of noise. Wooden walls, neon beer signs, cowboy boots, low stages and people packed close enough together that dancing feels almost necessary. Places better suited for pedal steel than a wall of Marshall amplifiers, and yet it somehow works.
The first night started at Lucinda’s, a room not entirely unfamiliar to J Mascis. Before Lucinda Williams’ name was above the door, 169 Avenue A was Brownies, a dingy rock club in the east village. J played there last on July 17, 1998. Twenty-eight years later, the name on the door had changed, the neighborhood around it had changed, and the walls had lived a few different lives, but somehow J Mascis had found his way back.
I found myself outside by five standing in the rain completely soaked. The first person in line was named Steve, who let me stand underneath his umbrella. Megan was behind him, we started chatting a bit and somehow within a few minutes discovered that we both knew Jim Spring, who had been floating around the Dinosaur Jr. universe since making early videos with them.
Inside, the absurdity of the room became more obvious. We all crammed around the eight inch high stage covered in amps. I wedged myself close enough that Lou Barlow would spend part of the night worrying aloud about the headstock of his bass connecting with my face. Eventually it hit the guy next to me instead.
After the first song, a guy pushed his way toward the stage, tapped Lou on the shoulder and suggested they turn the vocals up.
Lou laughed. “If it’s not loud enough, you can put your head to the monitor.”
For the next few songs the guy stood there fanning himself with one of those collapsible hand fans before eventually disappearing back into the room.
The following afternoon I took a detour on my way to Skinny Dennis and I watched Dinosaur Jr. play four songs in Tompkins Square Park while the Parks Department tried to stop the whole thing. I heard someone say they would just eat the ticket if it came down to it. At 2:54pm, Dinosaur Jr. started playing anyway.
A few hours later I was standing inside another honky-tonk. Skinny Dennis was somehow even tighter. Megan, who I had met on the first day was once again beside me at the front of the stage. The room filled until everyone seemed stacked on top of each other.
Somewhere around the fourth or fifth song I looked up and saw a crowd surfer coming over our heads.
