Back on the line?

You don't have to look much further than Rob Sheffield's laudatory Dinosaur Jr. entry in the Spin Alternative Record Guide for evidence that Mascis's career has reached an awkward kind of limbo. Sheffield spends two of three paragraphs praising Dinosaur Jr.'s first three releases and then just glances over the last four discs (the post-Lou Barlow discs), saying, in effect, that they're all merely fine. Like Bob Mould and Paul Westerberg, two other founding fathers of alterna-rock who are releasing new solo discs this week, Mascis has yet to make the full transition from moving hearts to moving units. But unlike Bob, who's always used frustration as an effective muse, or Paul, who seems to be comfortably settling in to the older-and-wiser pro-songwriter routine, J managed to keep a big wall of distortion between himself and his doubts until he hit the road alone last year.

Martin and Me isn't a comeback effort, and it probably won't win Mascis any new fans. But my guess is that, like the tour, it will serve to reintroduce the inner Mascis to the core audience of loners-at-heart who knew exactly what he meant by "Boredom won't starve as long as you feed it" ("Repulsion") back in 1985. Mascis's voice still refuses to hold a note for more than a second or two, which is what accounts for that slow, queasy vibrato effect he's always had. And without that suitcase full of stompboxes he's got nothing to hide behind when it goes way out of key on a messy cover of the Smith's "The Boy with the Thorn in His Side."

Some people find Mascis's vocal flaws endearing in a Neil Youngish kind of way. Other find them unlistenable in a Neil Youngish kind of way. As with Neil Young, an acoustic guitar will only intensify those feelings. But, again, my guess is that anyone who was originally charmed with the vulnerability of "Repulsion" will be once again. Same goes for "Thumb," with its confessional refrain of "An excuse is all you're in for/The abuse is what you crave," the plaintive, falsetto-laced "Going Home," and "Not You Again," which actually sounds angrier here in its stripped down form, where you can hear him scowl, "I've got no advice about anything/Just fuck it up yourself."

Mascis does plenty of fucking up himself over the course of the 14 tracks here, and that's obviously by design. He plays his Martin with the same fast-and-loose technique he uses on his overdriven Jazzmaster, but here you can pick out every missed note, the off-kilter fret buzz, and each out-of-time strum. His extended solo at the end of "Drawerings" provides a fine seminar on why you can't play an acoustic guitar as if it were an electric. And he can't seem to get an even rhythm going on the verses of "So What Else Is New." As for song selection, let's just say that he's no more likely to steal "Anticipation" back from the ketchup people than Carly Simon would be. And that, for all their rhyming, the simplistic lyrics to "Keeblin' " and "Flying Cloud" don't have enough substance to stand up to acoustic interpretations.

Warts have never been the problem with Mascis; it's the seeming lack of visceral inspiration that's made his last few discs that much weaker than the first three. So when he closes the set with "Every Mother's Son," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, a gruff tune that reminds us, "No man should take advantage of who they are/No man has got it made/If he thinks he does he's wrong," it strikes a hopeful note. Paul Westerberg may never write another "Answering Machine," Bob Mould may never write another "I Apologize," and Mascis may never write another "Repulsion." But at least Paul and Bob have been trying. Martin and Me is the first indication that Mascis may be willing to put himself on the line again. Let's hope so.