Live Review: Dinosaur Jr, Luluc

Cobbling together the narrative from New York-via-Melbourne indie-folk duo Luluc’s between-song banter, it seems that the pair had been supporting Dinosaur Jr frontman J Mascis through the States recently when some shows were cancelled, and that they were offered this support slot as an olive branch to atone for some perceived (perhaps actual) hassle.

At any rate, the pair — Zoë Randall (vocals/guitar) and Steve Hassett (bass/guitar) — are clearly a lot quieter than many in attendance were expecting from tonight’s support but it doesn’t detract from the quality of their performance. They play with a peaceful intensity, showcasing plenty of tracks from 2014 album Passerby (released on indie tastemaker Sub Pop) such as Without A Face, Reverie On Norfolk Street and the upbeat Tangled Heart, as well as some older tunes like Little Suitcase (which harks right back to their 2008 debut album Dear Hamlyn). The pace rarely gets above a saunter but the crowd seem content enough with the quality of the offerings, and the well-attuned duo finish with the pastoral harmonies of accomplished new track Spring which augurs well for their impending third album.

As the stage is readied for the headliner, the air of anticipation in the venue begins to intensify, the now-familiar stacks of Marshall amps in place to signify the aural assault about to be unleashed. Nonetheless, there’s a tangible sense of relief when the three members of alt-rock icons Dinosaur Jr amble unhurriedly onto stage to set up: two of the trio — bassist Lou Barlow and drummer Murph — had faced well-publicised visa issues entering the country so there’d been no guarantees we were going to be getting the real deal tonight, but luckily everything was resolved in time (although Murph is still battling jet lag from his severely elongated travelling itinerary).

They open with the frenetic instrumental burst which signifies The Lung, the silver-haired Mascis stoic on stage right as the tousled Barlow jumps around frantically on the other side, the pair separated by the deadpan Murph set up in the centre. Even though this is the band’s “classic” line-up (responsible for the first three albums from the ‘80s and the most recent four from the new millennium), they show an immediate willingness to delve into the band’s ‘90s output by smashing through the evergreen Get Me, jamming out the finale like some long-lost Neil Young epic.

The massive capacity crowd seems transfixed, heads banging everywhere in appreciation, even for new tracks.

They bash through Goin Down and Love Is… from new album Give A Glimpse Of What Yer Not — the latter allowing Barlow the vocal reins for the first time tonight — and then pulverise oldie The Wagon, another ‘90s songs which seems completely natural in this environment. It’s all ear-bleedingly loud but there’s plenty of clarity and nuance amidst the racket — a combination of the band’s indubitable chops and the venue’s top-notch sound — Mascis seeming to remain emotionless amidst the maelstrom as if he’s caught in some strange sonic vacuum, even as they tear through stomping tunes like Budge, Watch The Corners and Tiny.

There’s a burst of excitement as they unveil the slacker majesty of Feel The Pain — even this more reserved morsel builds into a manic flurry by the end — and then continue with the relatively restrained Knocked Around and the soaring blitz of Start Choppin. The massive capacity crowd seems transfixed, heads banging everywhere in appreciation, even for new tracks like doomy grunge throwback I Walk For Miles. Even the normally poppy Freak Scene is slathered in sludge in the live setting, and after Mascis and Barlow trade disaffected vocals on Gargoyle (from their 1985 debut Dinosaur) the trio down tools and wander from the stage with little fuss nor fanfare — there are no farewells offered to the adulating crowd but they don’t seem angry or defiant, more just diffident and happy to let their music do the talking.

For a while, it seems that there will be no encore, but the braying crowd coaxes them back onstage just long enough for Barlow to blast out a brief, furious punk barrage and Mascis to lead them through a now-familiar rendition of The Cure’s Just Like Heaven, a slice of dreamy nostalgia that this band long ago adapted for themselves and crafted in their own image. Dinosaur Jr’s thrilling third stanza just seems to be going from strength to strength, and on tonight’s performance it seems like there’s still a lot left in this band’s massive (and voluminous) tank — long may they deafen us.