Farm

Continues where 2007's sprightly comeback album "Beyond" left off.

Apparently, you can go home again, and it's still plenty loud and comfortable.

With standards so consistently high, picking further peaks is a tough call but the surging wah squel of 'Over It' and 'I Don't Wanna Go There's' stellar guitar squall also score way up at the top of the scale. [Jul 2009, p.105]

The solos are majestic and Barlow even contributes a couple of thumpers. Nobody does this better.

Frontman J Mascis is more than capable of stirring up a whirlwind of melodic feedback, suitable for heshers of any age.

It's good to have the definitive lineup back together--and there are thrills galore on Farm--but one can't help wondering if compromise has weakened the group.

The last half of Farm starts suffering from verse repetition, slower songs never matching the ballast of 'Ocean in the Way.' Farm does reach beyond 2007's "Beyond."

As catchy and well-crafted as these songs are, they never feel restricted or overly polished. Each track is given room to grow, stretching into extended intros, impulsive solos, and oft-repeated verses.

It sounds dismissive to say that Farm is, undeniably, nothing more than another Dinosaur Jr. record. Yet it is, and if that assertion carries with any ideas of complacency or stock “rock action,” it should also denote the superb craftsmenship inherent in Mascis, Barlow, and Murph’s work.

At times, Mascis and Co. sound perfectly at home amidst a wall of distortion (see the bouncy, hook-driven 'I Want You to Know'). But for the most part, they sound exhausted.

Although Farm sacrifices some immediacy and fire for expansive emotionalism and nuance, the album is a solid addition to the Dinosaur Jr. catalog and one whose highlights may prove even better with time.

Farm sounds like the best alt-rock album that 1993 forgot.

As long as you don't mind working for your alt rock fixes, however, Farm is certainly worth the effort.

Dinosaur Jr. set the standard for convulsive indie-rock guitar fireworks in the Eighties. Incredibly, the band's original lineup--guitarist J Mascis, bassist Lou Barlow and drummer Murph--hasn't lost a thunderous step.

Even though Farm may be the album we (should have) expected from Dinosaur Jr., it is still an excellent record that offers a variety of different qualities, while remaining as much fun to listen to as they have ever been.

So, finally, to Farm, which every bit the equal of "Beyond;" maybe even better.

Farm actually bests "Beyond’s" triumphs.

There’s also no denying the power of their bittersweet, socially inept aggression, and the ferocity of their sound on Farm. But, as truly gifted as Mascis is on the guitar and as surly as Barlow is vocally, this is merely Dinosaur fossilised, leaving you hankering for something a little more daring.

Farm succeeds just where Beyond did, by being an absolutely awesome record. If there’s one thing that can be taken away from it, it’s that we can all relax now and let Dinosaur Jr. do their thing.

This is one mighty album, one that will tower over others like the green shrubs that tower over the buildings on the cover.

They’ve yet to lose it: Farm comes in a bit longer and countrified than its predecessor, but it’s also a more muscular and emotional album.

Farm, the band's second album since returning, may just be enough to prove naysayers and skeptics wrong. [Summer 2009, p.65]

Mascis's unique talents have ossified into a signature, so discerning any difference between this set of tunes and, say, his solo albums of the early oughts or latter-day Dinosaur Jr. albums is tough work. If, to you, that means more awesome Mascis crunchwork, then be psyched, because this record slays, the rocking is sloppy-yet-tight, and nothing on here would sound like a drag if tossed into a setlist amongst older classics.

Farm isn't the kind of Dino record that has a keeper single like 'Start Choppin'' or 'Feel The Pain.' Instead, it boasts some of Mascis' biggest departures under the Dino name. [Aug 2009, p.110]