1,417 MY BLOODY VALENTINE, J Mascis, London Wembley Arena, Tuesday 25th November 2025

 

Maybe it’s my age – although in this instance I seriously don’t think so – but I’m pretty sure this represented the first ever gig I’ve left early because it was too loud. Dull, yup (Drive By Truckers and Band Of Horses spring to mind), crap mix, oh yeah (Redd Kross recently), but sheer overwhelming volume? Hmmm…

Anyway, I leap forward… I ummed and ahhed about this one anyway; 80’s Shoegaze pioneers and bleeding edge sonic experimenters My Bloody Valentine frankly didn’t land with me back in the day. I only saw them once, in their nascent pre-first album days, as Soup Dragons Bierkeller support in 1987 (gig 69, dudes..), and in my drunken, pool-table hogging state, I didn’t think much of them, an opinion that remained awhile. I however latterly gave them another listen, mainly due to the oft-devotional enthusiasm of rock musician buddies (e.g. Boston rock friend Dave Wanamaker, who saw fit to name his excellent 2000’s power-pop band after MBV’s sophomore “Loveless” album!), appreciating their textural sonic approach whilst still slightly bemoaning the absence of brain-hugging tuneage. Given the eccentric nature of MBV’s main man Kevin Shields, their “Brian Wilson” in more ways than one, it seemed however that a “live” show was unlikely at best, so when a Wembley Arena date was announced completely out of the blue, it prompted much internal debate. Ultimately (and despite the rather steep ticket price), I thought, why the fuck not? 

I hit the road at ¼ to 4, trying somewhere new to park for Wembley; Rayners Lane tube, which was fairly straightforward despite a last half-hour rush hour crawl. I’d not been able to locate my noise-cancelling earplugs before setting off, so was happy to see, on arrival, that the stewards were handing out packets of the squashy ones! Hit the vast expanse of Wembley Arena about 20 to 7, running into Bristol friend Keeley, plus her bandmate Lukey and his partner, for a chat before I popped down the front-ish, house left. An added attraction tonight was the inclusion of pre-grunge guitar-abusing legendary noisenik J Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. on the undercard, and he duly joined us at 8 with a laconic, “alright then, how’s it going…”. Something different from the man tonight; a solo performance with acoustic guitars rather than the full-on amped-up noise! So, opener “Thumb”, shorn of the usual wall of noise onslaught, revealed itself to be introspective and melancholy, setting the tone for the early numbers. By “Little Fury Things”, a smattering of comparatively startling fuzz pedal was being deployed, along with some occasional tape loops, and “Out There”’s lengthy acoustic intro and outro gave me a hazy late Summer dappled light vibe similar to War On Drugs! “The Wagon”, was nonetheless brilliant, an undulating gallop even in this setting and ultimately the best number of the night overall for me, and the parched desert stoner vibe of closer “Alone”, again featuring some lengthy virtuoso riffing on the outro from J, rounded off a welcome opening vignette from an alt-rock legend.

A quick wander around the arena and another chat with Keeley in her spot in front of the central mixing desk, then I ventured back to my forward spot, chatting with some young fans. At 9, the lights dimmed, and a twinkling backing track saw MBV take the stage, be-hatted and grey-maned main man Kevin Shields last with a soft “hello” and into the undulating riff of “I Only Said”. And it was OVERPOWERINGLY LOUD from the off, prompting me to immediately reach for the earplugs. “When You Sleep”, next up, was great; a tremulous, tremendous groovy beast recalling TFC’s “Everything Flows”. Best already… surely not? 

‘Fraid so. On record, My Bloody Valentine’s overall sonic template, for me, falls into 3 distinct camps: firstly, the early-doors hurtling and often thrilling cacophonies of slashing guitar noise redolent of (unsurprisingly) MBV acolyte Bob Mould; secondly, the textural, atmospheric and shimmering “sonic cathedrals” of cliché, often touching heights of widescreen transcendence; and thirdly, and unfortunately, occasional borderline-unlistenable tuneless muddied dirges. And tonight, with the overwhelming noise on full blast – I kid you not, it was like an aircraft taking off at close range – much of the subsequent set was either a painful cacophonous noise without the earplugs, or an indistinct muffled bore with them. Also, there seemed to be some friction or miscommunication between Shields and hard-hitting drummer Colm O’Ciosoig, a couple of numbers needing multiple starts before getting going, prompting Shields to murmur, “fucking hell, it’s an age thing…” whilst their bandmates seemingly watched on, slightly bemused…

A mid-set “Only Shallow” was better, more absorbing in a Pale Saints “Sight Of You” way, but again, vibe rather than tune, and it was evident why I was disinclined towards MBV back in the day, enjoying as I did such prosaic things as verses, choruses, melodies and singers that “performed” and that I could hear singing. The taciturn static mumble just wasn’t cutting it for me, so a couple of plodding numbers later I took a break, then back in for one last noisy blast before I cried “enough”, heading off with half an hour left, and with the likes of “Soon” and “You Made Me Realise” (frequently and excellently butchered by my live faves Midway Still) yet to come. Home via a circuitous diversion through Maidenhead (!) at half past midnight. In all honesty, I really shouldn’t have expected anything else from this fabled band of wall-of-noise makers, and I’m a bit disappointed with myself that I didn’t see it coming…

1,301 SUPERCHUNK, Junk Drawer and 1,302 DINOSAUR JR., Man On Man, Bristol Strange Brew and London Highbury Garage, Friday 10th and Sunday 12th November 2023

 

Another very definite “double header” here; 2 gigs in the space of 3 nights, both hosted by veteran 90’s grunge-era dynamic guitar-heavy US alternative rock acts, celebrating the 30^th Anniversary of the release of their most commercially successful records! Although at the time, my then-28-year old US alt-rock heart belonged to my beloved Gigolo Aunts and their 1993 “Flippin’ Out” release, I still bought and enjoyed both Superchunk’s “On The Mouth” and Dinosaur Jr.’s “Where You Been”, and caught said acts “live” that year, the ‘Chunk headlining at Windsor Old Trout (gig 246) and later appearing on the Teenage Fanclub Anson Rooms undercard (gig 252), and Dinosaur mainman J Mascis’ noiseniks playing a dusky Sunday evening set at that year’s Reading Festival (gig 248)! For these 30^th celebration dates, Dinosaur broke cover first, announcing 4 nights (!) at London’s Highbury Garage, which Mascis devotee Tim was all over, getting us both tix for night 1 before they all quickly sold out, then Superchunk followed suit with a tour which passed through Bristol, so I hooked myself up for a trip to Strange Brew, a new Bristolian venue on me…

 Chunk was first, so I hit the road about 6.45 for a Friday drive down the M4, figuring doors at 7 so no need to rock up earlier, right? Wrong, as it happened, as support Junk Drawer had started their set at 7.15! However, missing half their set proved to be a lucky escape, as it turned out; a big guy in a kaftan never bodes well for my prog/ hippy-averse tastes, a comment about their stopping at Stonehenge on the way down from London only serving to underline this point! Their set consisted of a mulch of droney metronomic noise (one song briefly sounding like The Doors’ “LA Woman” before retreating into the sonic murk), ultra-dreary soporific balladry and an interminably long closing plod about the sky falling into the sea. Yikes! 

I took a glance around this newish but worn-in venue, a wide bar with interesting art pieces suspended from the ceiling, and a stepped open stage which I took a spot in front of, house left, as lead singer Mac McCaughan and his charges set up, before taking the stage at 8.30. A slightly different ‘Chunk line-up this time, shorn of Bob Mould’s backing boys Jon Wurster and Jason Narducy (Jason himself subbing for ‘Chunk mainstay Laura Ballance, who’s a non-toura Laura these days) and instead featuring another Laura, hard-hitting drummer Laura King, plus Ex Hex favourite Betsy Wright on bass. This line-up however immediately showed a more relaxed band dynamic than their most recent UK foray, on the back of politically-charged “What A Time To Be Alive” back in 2018 (gig 1,088). Mac announced, “We’re Superchunk; it’s been 30 years or so, some of you weren’t born then!”, before launching into the untitled opening squall of languid noise. The irresistible groove of “For Tension” followed, Mac’s few-octaves-too-high-for-comfort vocals overlaying the propulsive rhythm, getting me rocking down the front from the outset and setting the tone for the early set. The superb ascending riff and air-punching chorus of oldie “Seed Toss” (which took 2 attempts to start, Laura initially playing too fast!) was an early highlight, as it became evident that Chunk’s set tonight wasn’t a full-on start-to-finish rendition of “On The Mouth” but rather a set spotlighting its’ key tracks… 

The slower burn fire alarm blare of “Kicked In” preceded a clattering, drum-propelled “Water Wings” and a quite brilliant “Crossed Wires”, then the off-kilter strumalong and regimental drumbeat of “The Question Is How Fast” built to a circling climax, oddly bringing to mind some of The Byrds’ more psych-rock wig-outs, albeit with swathes of growling guitar overlay. Set closer “Hyper Enough” was as frantic a headlong tumble as ever (had NME scribe Simon Williams not referred to early Idlewild as “sounding like a flight of stairs falling down a flight of stairs”, he could just as easily applied that description to the ‘Chunk) before a 5 song encore, featuring a ragged yet anthemic as ever “Slack Motherfucker” and “Precision Auto”, another warp-speed hurtle, capped a splendid – and yes, fun – set which proved that despite personnel changes and advancing years, the Chunk still have it “live”. Great stuff! 

Sadly I missed a list (this being a pic I took earlier), Mac instead handing it to a fellow front-row punter, but I did get to finally meet the man after 30 years of fandom, enjoying a brief chat about Big Dipper (Mac’s Merge Records putting out The Dippah’s “Supercluster” compilation back in 2008) before hitting the road for a difficult and annoying M32-closure affected drive home. Dipper vocalist Bill Goffrier was in the UK but wasn’t able to make it to this gig; shame, that would have been something!

 A hectic weekend didn’t give me much time to relax my aching one-man Chunk moshpit limbs, and a superb family Sunday lunch at Miller and Carter got me back home literally 10 minutes before Tim arrived to pick me up for Dinosaur Jr.! So we caught up during a soggy drive up the Smoke, deciding to drive the whole way in so hitting slow traffic on the A40M but still parking up around the corner from The Garage just before doors. Grabbed a spot near the front, house left, as the place quickly filled up with black-jeaned US alt-rock grunge casualties, dragging out old school Dinosaur Jr. tshirts which largely looked as if they hadn’t seen the light of day in decades! A happy surprise about this evening’s bill was the late announcement of Man On Man as support; the new project of Roddy Bottum, formerly of plangent melodic 90’s rockers Imperial Teen, and his musical and life partner Joey, their excellent “Provincetown” album is one of my favourites of this year, with some dynamic synth propelled Stereolab-like darkwave rhythms underpinning hushed vocals and lyrics which was all about the gay life (hence the band name, I guess!). As if for emphasise this latter point, the two-piece (Roddy gesticulating and arm-waving behind the keyboards, and Joey on guitar) took the stage then shared a lengthy kiss before kicking into the irresistibly groovy opener “Showgirls”, my favourite on the album and a deliciously metronomic Sloan “I Am The Cancer” soundalike. Fears that they’d peaked early were however unfounded as the rest of the set maintained that level; “Piggy” was a sleazy grunge march, “Daddy” an eerie monotone grind(‘r) and closer “I Feel Good” was a New Order-esque synth-laden singalong. Between numbers, Joey and particularly Roddy were buoyant, voluble personalities, Joey asking, “do we have any gey people in tonight? Surely there’s more than that… time to come out tonight!” and Roddy thanking us for coming early to support the support (“do you remember when you turned up for [a great] support band? I saw the English Beat opening for Talking Heads…”) and preparing us for the impending Dinosaur sonic onslaught (“you guys are in the line of fire – shit gonna get loud!”). Great start! 

We stayed in the “line of fire” as the roadies plugged in the wall of 9 huge Marshall amps cloistered around J; then the surprising yet unmistakeable atmospherics of Echo and the Bunnymen’s all-time classic “Over The Wall” heralded the band onstage, J in front of us with his cartoon baseball cap covering his back-length white hair, Murph solid and bald, oddly resembling my father in law (!), and bassist and former Sebadoh man Lou Barlow sporting a huge tousled mane and resembling a 70’s hair band rocker! “We’re going to attempt to play “Where You Been”,” deadpanned J, and the words proved prophetic, as it took 2 attempts to kick into the delirious laze-rock of opener “Out There”; although when it did get going, it and the slow build to huge chorus hook of follow-up “Start Choppin’” both sounded tremendous, overlaid with J’s drowsy vocal slur and intricate yet squalling riffery. The hurtling drone of “On The Way” was also an early highlight, Lou preceding this by announcing, “we’re nervous! [It’s a] big London show!”

 However, while nerves didn’t seem an issue, lack of preparation subsequently did. A few of the “Where You Been” tracks needed a couple of goes to get started, roadies constantly took to the stage to swap huge lyric prompts around in front of J, and at one point proceedings stopped as they didn’t have a keyboard ready for the next number, J drawling, “we’ll have to borrow Roddy’s…” and Lou lamenting, “we’re giving our crew a workout today…”. Also, some numbers seemed rushed and haphazard, J attempting to make up for the shortcomings by piling on layers of hard riffery and noise. A bit of a shame, as “Where You Been” is a fine album, fully justifying Dinosaur’s description of “ear bleeding country”, with a definite Buffalo Springfield/ “Sweetheart of the Rodeo”-era dusty countrified vibe, if you blast past the grungy guitar noise… 

Ironically, things improved after the album run-through, as the band proceeded to invite a number of guests onstage. Amazingly, first was comedian Richard Ayoade (!), looking typically awkward and gauche as he contributed extra guitar on hard-rocking and largely instrumental “The Lung”; then My Bloody Valentine bassist Debbie Googe provided extra solidity (if such were needed) for a quite brilliant version of the classic “Freak Scene”; and finally, after a cacophonous and lengthy set closer “Gargoyle”, Primal Scream guitarist Andrew Innes and swaggering Thee Hypnotics vocalist Jim Jones (Jones remarking, “this is a fucking treat, isn’t it?”) joined J and Co for the savage proto psych-punk of the Stooges double “TV Eye” and “No Fun”. At its climax, J mumbled a quick goodbye as the band departed, following an uneven and occasionally unrehearsed, but also occasionally quite breathtaking set of potent and powerful noisy rock. As Roddy had promised, shit got loud, but actually it was never unbearable – quieter than a Bob Mould show, f’rinstance! 

Back to the car after another failed set-list attempt (bah!) and home fairly promptly for 20 to 1 after speed restrictions on the A40M hampered our egress out of town. So, overall 2 definitely worthwhile Anniversaries to celebrate; I think the consistency of Superchunk shaded it for me, but high spots aplenty in both gigs. A fine dynamic 90’s grungy guitar double-header!

786 DINOSAUR JR. Built To Spill, Oxford Carling Academy, Saturday 8 May 2010

This one - a late call due to Evan deciding not to come down for the weekend - was also an unfortunate first; after my dodgy knee collapsed this morning, this became the first gig I attended with a walking stick! Crikey!

Tim picked me up at 6 and we hit the venue very early, grabbing a drink and catching up as the venue filled. First band on for this joint-headliner gig was US alt-indie veterans Built To Spill, a band featuring on a long list of bands I really should like but don't, along with the likes of Pavement, Guided By Voices, The Beatles (!) etc. etc. Their set started off unobtrusively, with some Death Cab For Cutie-lite melody, which neither overwhelmed or underwhelmed, but just "whelmed". Thereafter, their hour long set became dull, clumsy and interminable, and Tim and I were glad to have bumped into Mark and Andy, to provide some respite by chatting!

We stayed in our good viewing position at the back of the venue, behind the mixing desk, for Dinosaur Jr., on at 9.15 prompt. Last heard (or endured) by these ears 5 years ago, when time and a flippin' great wodge of cash had healed all wounds, bringing back together the original line-up of mainman and gnarled noisenik J Mascis, Sebadoh frontman and sensitive indie boy Lou Barlow, and meaty and metronomic drummer Murph, they'd since soldiered on as a functioning unit, dragging out a couple of new CDs. Tonight, however, these were largely ignored in favour of a retro set of their relentlessly noisy, viscerally exciting yet laid-back and laconic slacker laze-rock, delivered by an immobile yet furiously riffing J and the pounding rhythm section, with Lou the main visual focal point, flinging his mop of curly hair around with abandon. An early "Lung" was an unexpectedly groovy pleasure, and "Feel The Pain" brought back Level 3 mid-90's memories with its' pace changes and wig-out strident chorus. The best was saved for last, though, with a final oldie triumvirate of "Little Fury Things"; a brilliantly delivered and seriously groovy "Raisans", the highlight of the night for me in the sad absence of my favourite Dinosaur number "The Wagon"; and the inevitable "Freak Scene", a little sloppy but well received by the mosh, J leaving the final hook open for the Dinosaur massive to sing along.

Overall a fine set, worth the pain and hassle of the walking stick. Dinosaur Jr. on cruise and collect mode maybe, but still prime purveyors of "ear bleeding country"!

356 DINOSAUR JR. Snowpony, London WC2 Astoria, Friday 8 August 1997

A quick trip down the M4 with Clive and Ady on the hottest day of the year so far, plus the usual tube dash in from Shepherd's Bush, nevertheless failed to get us to the Astoria in time for first band Lotus Crown, especially since Tottenham Court Road was subject to a fire investigation! Nevertheless, we arrived at 8, just after main support Snowpony had come on. A slinky Goth chick in a figure-hugging blue dress giving it loads was more impressive than the sound, which was a Mazzy Star/ Curve/ Cranes ethereal weird Gothic groove. Ady liked it - surprise surprise!

Dinosaur Jr. sauntered on, early at 5 to 9, with J, looking a little more corpulent than before, nevertheless bursting into manic and energetic riffery. The moshpit went crazy and I joined it, t-shirt soon discarded as the temperature rose and rose. Dinosaur Jr. played a staggeringly loud, cacophonous set of their primal rock madness, which was nevertheless extremely user-friendly and singles-oriented, with classic "Freak Scene" casually inserted mid-set, and titanic encores of "Just like Heaven" and my own highlight, the awesome "Wagon". Some less exciting and grungier moments nevertheless didn't detract (for me, anyway!) from a tremendous 1 1/2 hour's rock!

661 DINOSAUR JR., London Kentish Town Forum, Wednesday 8 June 2005

I'm still rocking in a retro style - this time it's off to see the reformation of one of the founding members of the pre-grunge American noise rock club, following in the footsteps of the Pixies by getting the original line-up back together. J Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph... funny how time - and a potful of cash - heals all rifts!

Rachel didn't fancy the noise so I hit the road with Mascis devotee Tim and Penny. Hit trouble on the M4, being diverted off to avoid a huge smash, so we parked up at 8.30, totally missing support Eugene Kelly in the process. D'oh! However, whilst heading off to the bank to get cash to "convert" my upstairs ticket to a downstairs one via a tout (had to be done, really...), we ran into Kevin and David from Seafood outside the Bull And Gate. Result!

Hit the venue at 1/4 to 9 and barely had time to get the drinks in and find a space, stage left by the speakers, before the band sauntered on at 9 with the house lights still on! Nevertheless, Dinosaur Jr., oddly cloistered around Murph's drums in the middle of the large stage, set to their task with unexpected vigour. J, white-maned and laconic, Lou looking almost muscular, and the bald workhorse Murph behind the drums. The set was drawn entirely from the first 3 original line-up albums, so no "The Wagon" (bah!), but an early, groovy "Raisans" drew praise and an ever-increasing moshpit.

Dinosaur Jr. were genre-defining in their amalgam of heavy rock and US college pop, and now rightly take their place among the true innovators and influences on today's rock scene. The brilliant set closer, "Freak Scene", which should/would have been a "Teen Spirit" sized crossover smash had J been a blond pretty boy like Kurt, was as thrilling, powerful and uplifting as ever, J belying his laid-back stance by really rocking out, drawing intricate riffs from his battered Fender.

The encore "Just Like Heaven" saw me hit the mad mosh for a frantic rendition of the old Cure number, a great way to end a titanic 1 1/4 hours of loud and hard rock! I grabbed 2 set-lists (including J's own, which I gave to Tim), then we chatted outside with the guys from Midway Still (purveyors of similar thrilling visceral noise) before hitting the road after another worthwhile trip to Ye Olde Londone Towne!