The Age of The Dinosaur | livemusic.fm

I think it's probably been 10 years since I was in a mosh-pit proper. These days myself and the paunchy, greying late-30 something & 40 somethings stand near the sound desk swaying gently, nodding our heads or tapping our feet, perhaps singing the words under our breath. Somehow around the encore of the Dinosaur Jr gig, the young hooligan who had dragged me along (a good 8 years younger than me) had convinced me to join him in the sweaty, roiling mass of committed wreckers. I have to say I quite enjoyed it.

By the time we'd elbowed our way through the half-suited, half scruffy-bastard crowd Built to Spill were midway through their set. I don't think I've ever seen a support band so well attended and despite the fact that personally I wasn't that familiar with them, the majority of the crowd seemed to be avid fans - the guy behind me pretty much sang accompaniment to every other number (in his middle aged nodding-along-at-the-back kinda way). Doug Martsch and Co are clearly much respected for their brand of carefully crafted, reflective & slightly miserable, jangly-guitar-based American indie rock. To my mind they lacked some energy in places, but Martsch has a magnetic (if jiggly-headed) presence, with a beard you could lose a badger in ... and the songs had interesting lyrical hooks that had obviously resonated with a large part of the male audience. Understandable, since most of the songs seemed to deal with relationship break-downs and other existentialist self-analysis.

After a few ales in the inevitable plastic pint-pots, we had positioned ourselves dead-centre of the floor about 15ft forward of the mixing desk, so as to appreciate the optimum sound from J Mascis's impressive triple-stacked Marshall rig. So, obviously we were quite disappointed when a howling over-driven morass of fuzz and barely audible vocals actually came out from it when Dinosaur Jr kicked-off. This was pretty strange really as Built to Spill's sound had been near perfect not 20 minutes earlier!

I couldn't identify the first 3 songs - either because they were from 2009's Farm and 2007's Beyond and not yet on my radar; or possibly because the sound really was that terrible! Anyway, somehow the hooligan convinced me that maybe if we moved further forward the sound would get better. Now either a) it was better another 20ft closer or b) the Sound Engineer pulled his finger out and sorted out the sound or c) the booze was starting to have an effect ... either way by the time Mascis cranked out Out There the sound seemed perfect and I was pretty much transported back 15 or so years when I first heard Where You Been? (I seem to remember there as a huge lightning storm outside which added to the atmosphere of listening to the CD ... It was certainly better than the fairly low-key lighting rig that accompanied the gig anyways!)

By the time Feel the Pain and the more recent Pieces had been executed, the distinctive sound - centered around heroic levels of gain, much pleasing feedback and distortion, melodic guitar and slacker nasally-whiny vocals - had all done their job.

FreakScene still sounded as fresh and visceral as the first time I'd heard it and the whole of the mosh-pit erupted, spoiling for some mischief. The hooligan disappeared into it's depths and before I knew it so had I ... by the time the band re-appeared for the metal-thrashathon that was the encore, we didn't know ourselves any longer.

J Mascis is probably one of the most interesting guitarists of his generation mixing a number of genres into his melting pot of over-driven Fender madness ... I like to think that if Hendrix had not joined the 27 Club, they might have done some interesting work together ... and whenever I have seen Mascis live, I am always reminded of the inventiveness and sheer audacity of the guitar-driven soundscape that characterizes both their music.

Overall the gig could be summed up as follows: Terrible sound, claustrophobic antiquated venue, over-priced gassy-as-feck beer, minimal set and basic light show, sweaty middle-aged crowd, slightly-less-sweaty middle-aged, grey haired, paunchy guitarist playing noisy indie rock. All these things should have combined for a truly dreadful experience, but somehow me and the hooligan left with a big grin plastered over our phizogs. Not quite Just Like Heaven - which unfortunately they didn't play - but a pretty good night out all in all.