This is legendary. I mean, this trio of indie-rock royalty has defied all the odds and are out touring behind an outstanding record that marks a period more productive than the time that they were originally a band before their breakup. Having seen Lou Barlow perform a few years back behind his solo material, I was expecting a somewhat wry, banter-filled set. But who needs banter, when you can completely destroy?
Surrounded by towering walls of Marshall amps and stacks, J Mascis, Barlow, and drummer Emmett Murphy, known simply as “Murph,” completely demolished the Mohawk last week. 
They ripped through songs old and new. I couldn’t believe it, but the crowd seemed just as psyched to hear blistering new tracks like “What Was That” (from I Bet On Sky out now on Jagjaguwar) as they did to hear classic songs like “The Lung.” It’s great to see a band’s new material get a warm welcome. Before the set, stagehands brought out Mascis’ setlist, typed in about 200 point font, resulting in about three songs per page. I guess seeing has nothing to do with rocking out.
The fans surrounding me were a dichotomous bunch—folks who’ve been listening to Dinosaur Jr. since they bought the initial albums on vinyl and tape in the 80s, punk rock guys, metalheads even, but perhaps most surprisingly, a slew of underage kids with big black Xs on backs of their hands. It caught me off guard at first, but then I realized what I must have looked like the first time I caught the Pixies after their reunion. I wasn’t quite underage then, but almost.
I remember what it felt like to be exposed to music by older kids, grow up loving a band, but feel like you’ll never get to see them because they’re broken up. The privilege of seeing Dinosaur Jr. live has been restored to humanity, and it’s a gift we shouldn’t take for granted. After all, nothing lasts forever. For now, we have the opportunity to see one of the greatest pioneers of independent rock ever.
Earlier in the night, Austin-born Shearwater brought their own brand of destruction, albeit a more subtle and beautiful destruction. Jonathan Meiburg’s voice, luminous and emotive, pierced the night as his backing band rocked through an array of songs culled mostly from their three most recent albums. Although I sometimes deeply desire to hear songs from Winged Life, Shearwater has made these songs those for which they are most known, and I was glad for a crowd of folks likely unfamiliar with the band to to see such a divergent but equally propulsive live show from one of my favorite bands.
