Dinosaur Jr

If it were a food it would be chili con carne, spicy enough to burn your mouth. If it were a flower it wouldn't be just one, but a whole bouquet, or rather an entire botanical garden. If it were a perfume, it would be the smell of the sea after a storm. If it were weather, it would be a cyclone sweeping away everything in its path. Since it's a rock band, it's Dinosaur Jr..

The main takeaway from the whole show is that, for a trio, the band makes a hell of a racket that not even a five- or six-piece outfit could match, though thankfully it's a racket that's remarkably well organized.

On stage we find J. Mascis looking like a well-fed Johnny Winter, with extremely long hair bleached to a pure white, Lou Barlow in almost dazzling form, sporting regulation prescription glasses and a gorgeous Rickenbacker bass that would make any instrument lover envious, and Murph, completely bald, tucked behind his black drum kit.

The crowd is large and skews decidedly young, a sign that the band, despite its status as a "cult" act that never achieved commercial success, has managed to leave a mark even on new generations who never experienced them "live" the first time around.

From the first three songs, the sheer volume and the trio's exuberance immediately stand out. There's a warm-up period needed, and while the rhythm section comes out swinging right away and is the most striking element, with Murph pounding away like a madman yet with remarkable precision, and Barlow tormenting his distorted bass with strokes almost violent enough to tear the strings off, Mascis is a bit too sloppy in his sprawling solos. Still, the crowd is thoroughly won over. Then, after "In A Jar", comes "Little Fury Things", and as the guitarist-leader himself announces it, sparking enthusiasm in the crowd, J. Mascis also finds his dazzling form again. It's a truly furious, breakneck version of this indie-rock classic that alone would be worth the ticket price and the adventurous drive through mountains and untouched forests to reach Urbino, a journey that would deserve a story of its own.

Songs from the first three albums come in waves, dense with almost hardcore pathos and memories of a golden era; nothing is played beyond these records and the singles - collected only on the compilation "Fossils" - released back when the three were still together. From "Little Fury Things" onward, every new song is proof of a truly remarkable chemistry between the three of them after all these years (more than thirteen) apart. Mascis shows none of the flaws that old reviews of his live shows used to point out, namely an excessive use of effects that made him look more like a tap dancer hopping around on his pedalboard; instead, he rightly focuses on blistering, sprawling, sweat-drenched solos ranging from Hendrix to Angus Young. Wonderful ones surface on "No Bones", one of the trio's finest songs, and "Raisans", played with a ferocity that not even the most brutal grindcore band could match. Romantic Napalm Death, basically.

Barlow, thoroughly unleashed and blessed with considerable stage presence, trades vocals with Mascis more often than people might think, or belts out screams in the backing vocals until he's hoarse. Mascis himself is less prone to those affected, off-key Neil Young (or Robert Smith)-style vocal quirks than he seems to be on record. From the self-titled debut album come "Forget The Swan", sweet despite all the noise, and "Repulsion", while "You're Living All Over Me" and "Bug" are performed almost in their entirety. The folk side of many compositions, such as "Pond Song", inevitably stays a bit in the shadows in this ultra-noisy live setting, but that's more than made up for by the intensity of the performances, much appreciated by the crowd.

The band even manages to get everyone dancing, with the final one-two punch before the encore: the legendary cover of "Just Like Heaven" (with Barlow letting out "Youuuu..." in the chorus that sound like they're coming straight from the mouth of hell) and, of course, the eagerly awaited "Freak Scene", another indie classic and a great showcase of noisy pop.

The encore consists of "Chunks", another cover released only as a single, and the intense "Bulbs Of Passion", again from the debut album, both played by the three of them like a bunch of possessed hardcore metalheads.

My final impression is one of pleasant astonishment: if all reunions - for money or otherwise - were like this one, then bring on the reunions.

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