photography by beth stirnaman | more photos here

While waiting around for Dinosaur Jr. at the Troubadour, I spy Henry Rollins by the door, chatting with every 10th kid who passes by and does a double take. An institution like Dinosaur Jr. always brings a mix of old friends, nostalgia seekers, super fans and young kids who probably got into J. Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph’s music through their parents.

The general consensus in the room is anxious but stoked as J. Mascis wanders onstage with the countenance of a yeti and the imperturbability of a true guitar slinger. Three full stacks of amps surround him like a cave. Lou is beefier than I remember as he straps on his bass and gives his distortion pedal a squeal. Murph takes his seat behind the drum kit with what seems to be an isolated moment in a consistently mellow temperament. “The Lung,” a track from the You’re Living All Over Me album, starts off the set with J. nonchalantly throwing off a kaleidoscopic guitar melody that bends and strums like a drunken snake on the attack. Lou pummels his bass while Murph flails around his kit with workman precision. Every fifth audience member seems to be nodding their heads in time with the tempo while 100 percent of the crowd sports a look of contentment. Dinosaur Jr. plays several tracks off their new album, Farm, including “I Want You To Know,” “Over It” and “Pieces,” all of which fit perfectly within their canonized back catalog.

Lou is definitely the chattiest member of the group, thanking “all of our friends for being here.” He also states that “We are almost an L.A. band since I live here now,” which is met with the inevitable “WHOOO!” from that guy in every crowd.

Then it happens. Lou accidentally steps on Murph’s glasses. The crowd changes after that. It’s as if their own glasses were stepped on and they see this show differently now, as an opportunity to transcend. Sure enough, an 11-year-old is hoisted over what was previously a pretty calm crowd and is happily tossed around. Then an older guy starts crowd-surfing, and another. When J. peels into the opening for “Freak Scene,” the transformation is suddenly complete. Years melt away from the crowd as formerly civil lookie loos stop politely sipping their beers and start running towards a swirling chasm of dancing bodies, happily colliding into one another. My attention cannot help but shift from the stage to the crowd, so as not to get caught in the throat with an errant boot—and I couldn’t be more excited about it. Lou cautions, “Now behave yourself boys.” This only encourages the crowd to forget their age and pretend they are back at that show in high school, where Dinosaur Jr. played their local all-ages venue. Something has been recaptured and it rocks. Lou then proclaims, “You guys are so much better than the crowd last night! Seriously, fuck them.

—Eyad Karkoutly