POP MUSIC REVIEWS : Dinosaur Jr. Flexes Voice Over Volume

In a word-association game with an underground music fan, Dinosaur Jr. would get replies like Loud . . . Guitar . . . Real loud . . . Hair . . . Incredibly loud. But despite its image as a sonic Scud, the Dinosaur Jr. that played the Whisky on Tuesday had more to do with voice than volume--both literal singing voice and metaphorical songwriting voice.

The Amherst, Mass.-based trio--newly signed with major label Warner Bros.--rocked fiercely, true. But leader J Mascis’ mournful drawl rode above the din, and his songs breathed with the pain and yearning of great rock in the line of Townshend to the Replacements.

The singer-guitarist, his longtime drummer Murph and touring bassist Van Conner dug in and thrashed out their songs with garage-band directness. In the overheated, airless atmosphere of the packed club, with the drums planted at the rim of the stage to be knocked askew by the stage-divers, the group approached a breakthrough to the serenity on the other side of the sound barrier.

At the same time, the songs were brisk rather than frantic, they had hooks, not just riffs, and they were much more than mere premises for rocking out. Mascis captured the dread of ennui and oblivion, and the tenderness of longing for contact and connection. It’s passionate and confused, like Hendrix sitting in with the Who.

Unlike those showy forebears, Mascis didn’t seem very interested in reaching out to the Whisky audience. Even his arrogance is introverted: His only spoken words were to “Mr. Light Man,” requesting assorted lights be extinguished. His preference for murkiness undermines the embracing qualities of Dinosaur Jr.’s music, but in a way it suits his perverse adolescent nature.