Dinosaur Jr. There Near Review: Thirteen albums in, noise-rock power trio still roars.
On There Near (August 28th via Jagjaguwar), the band’s 13th full-length album and their first collection of new material since 2021’s Sweep It Into Space, J Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph return with an album that is both unmistakably Dinosaur Jr. and surprisingly reflective. Recorded in short, intense bursts over the course of a year at Amherst’s Bisquiteen Studio, There Near finds the trio working almost entirely on their own, with occasional piano and organ from Ken Mauri. The result is a record that keeps its amplifiers firmly in the red while allowing plenty of room for melancholic meditation.
Mascis has never been especially interested in explaining what his songs mean. In fact, he says he often doesn’t know what a song is about while writing it, preferring to let the words work on their own terms. That philosophical opacity is part of what makes There Near so compelling. The lyrics suggest recurring themes of isolation, uncertainty and disconnection, even as Mascis’s characteristically relaxed delivery can make some of the darkest lines sound almost breezy. It’s a contradiction and juxtaposition that suits Dinosaur Jr. perfectly: emotionally bruised songs delivered with enough volume and guitar heroics to make the wounds feel euphoric.
“Several Got Away” is an immediate highlight, driven by Mascis’s classic sing-song delivery and a propulsive, almost exhilarating momentum. Its repeated sense of departure, knowing when it’s time to leave someone or leave something behind, is matched by one of Mascis’s best uses of multitracked guitar on the record. The guitars don’t simply decorate the melody; they seem to chase it, giving the song a feeling of escape.
If “Several Got Away” finds exhilaration in leaving, “No Friends” sinks into the loneliness left behind. “I got no friends to speak of / feeling so weighted down / I got no way to come back now” is unusually stark even for Dinosaur Jr., and the song’s darker atmosphere gives the album some of its emotional weight. A playful guitar solo cuts through the murk, a reminder that even Dinosaur Jr.’s bleakest moments tend to arrive with a grin and a volume knob turned eardrum-punishing high.
That push and pull between regret, depression and propulsion runs throughout the album. “Everything at Once” is wistful and understated, built around a fragile melody rather than a monstrous riff. “Take Me With You” is similarly dreamy, with tremolo-soaked guitar giving the song the hazy sensation of staring up at an enormous patch of blue sky from somewhere considerably less idyllic.
“Gone Off” brings the thunder back with a Brian May-style riff and a kick-drum pulse, while “Clam Along” rides a triumphant, soaring power-pop melody despite the uncertainty lurking beneath it. “Walk Me Back” is another standout, wistful and anthemic in equal measure. “Read the Room” feels breezy and freeing, warmed by Mascis’s guitar tones and his strident delivery before opening into one of his most melodic, lyrical solos. Its final minutes trail away in a euphoric vapor.
Then there’s “Put It Down,” an emotive ballad that eventually does what Dinosaur Jr. ballads almost inevitably do: simmer until it explodes. What begins as something delicate and vulnerable closes amid prog-like guitar textures and airy atmospherics, as though Mascis simply cannot resist stomping on the beatific melody
Barlow’s two contributions, meanwhile, add another dimension. On “Blowin’ Up,” his ragged vocal performance turns a barrage of references to edgelords, ragebait and death cults into something that feels pointedly connected to the ugliness of contemporary culture. “You wanna see blood and guts? Well, come on” sounds less like an abstract provocation than a jab at a society increasingly addicted to social media outrage and spectacle. Barlow’s melodic instincts remain deceptively friendly, but his lyrics cut considerably deeper.
That tension is even more apparent on the album closer, “No One’s Ready.” With Barlow again on vocals, the song refuses the easy catharsis of a grand finale, instead ending in unresolved post-punk tension. It’s an appropriately uneasy conclusion to an album whose emotional center is often uncertainty.
For this alt-rock trio, thirteen is clearly not an unlucky number. There Near is another strong entry in Dinosaur Jr.’s remarkable second act, a record that can be somber without wallowing, melodic without losing its teeth, and absolutely enormous without forgetting the vulnerable exoskeleton underneath all that distortion.
