Ever since Dinosaur Jr. reconvened nearly a decade ago, J Mascis has favored his Martin almost as much as his Jazzmaster. In fact, if you don’t count reissues of the band’s 1980s albums, his acoustic output has nearly matched the three full-band albums that each justified the reunion and then some. Released in 2006, Live at CBGB’s: The First Acoustic Show made stripping down for a legendary venue sound suitably punk, even if it remains the textbook definition of “For Fans Only.” Much more essential is Several Shades of Why from 2011, Mascis' first true solo album of new material, which featured mainly just Mascis and his Martin. It’s a quiet, gorgeous collection of fragile indie folk tunes made all the more powerful by his wounded-old-man croak, his dexterous picking, and his overall sense of restraint. And now there’s Tied to a Star, which picks up more or less where Several Shades of Why left off*.*
In other words, we may be entering a new chapter in Mascis’ career, one where the Martin and the Jazzmaster receive equal play. This isn’t, thank god, a case of an aging musician making a last-ditch stab at mainstream success by turning self-consciously serious; these albums are still too weird for that. On the other hand, his acoustic material does sound relatively limited, as Mascis is not quite as expressive on the acoustic as he is on the electric. When he plugs in, he can bend notes into a language that is both new and familiar, conjugating active verbs from punk and metal, translating concrete nouns from blues and folk. He’s one of the few guitar gods whose technical prowess never sounds like an end in itself, but simply a means of getting his point across. Which is not to say that he doesn’t occasionally showboat, but that he showboats with great purpose.
When he unplugs, however, Mascis can be a little less communicative and compelling. Several Shades of Why worked because the setting emphasized his vocals and lyrics, both of which are occasionally drowned out by Dinosaur Jr.’s infamous din. Moreover, his playing showed a different approach to the instrument, as though he had relearned the guitar and devised new strategies to put his songs across. As a result, the music balanced a potent world-weariness with a new creative spark, and the songs succeeded precisely because they weren’t adequate vessels for the emotions he was trying to exorcise. It was a lovely, lonely album full of delicate melodies and tenderhearted, albeit somewhat elusive, sentiments.
By contrast, Tied to a Star lacks some of that album’s sense of discovery and precariousness. It’s much more confident and cagier, which may have to do with the fact that this isn’t strictly a Mascis solo record. He corralled a loose backing band for a four-man acoustic jam, including Pall Jenkins of the Black Heart Procession, Ken Maiuri, and Mark Mulcahy. Instead of lonely, quiet folk, we too often get strummy chumminess, which places Star uncomfortably close to ‘90s jam-band territory. The opening chords of “Every Morning” have a bouncy insistency that portends a Sister Hazel song, while the instrumental “Drifter” churns a vaguely Middle Eastern groove that might emanate from post-Jar of Flies alt-rock radio.
Fortunately, there’s more to Tied to a Star than those questionable touchstones. Most of these songs hit the same vein as Why, framing Mascis’ singing and playing as idiosyncratic rather than anonymous. In fact, the best moments are those when he ditches the band altogether. “Come Down” underscores his gentle intro with a looming wall of distortion, as though reluctant to let the listener get too comfortable. Opener “Me Again” and “Stumble” showcase Mascis’ wounded-old-man vocals and especially his strong falsetto, serving as a good reminder that his voice has somehow gotten better with age. Over a quiet, spryly picked guitar theme, his voice meshes well with Marshall’s on “Wide Awake”, conjuring a lonely, late-night mood: two lovers on opposite ends of the telephone line. Only the intrusive crash cymbal on the bridge breaks the spell, but the song recovers on Mascis’ fluid guitar solo—which is played on electric, for what that’s worth.
In fact, almost all of the solos are electrified, which shows just how limited the Mascis + Martin set-up can be. He’s a figure of such towering goodwill in the indie world that it’s tempting to excuse or explain away his missteps. Certainly, Tied to a Star stumbles whenever the band sit in on a song, but his cohorts aren’t necessarily to blame. What’s truly disappointing about this uneven album is the fact that they could find no other mode of playing together besides the old, the familiar, and the unwelcome. There’s nothing embarrassing here, just a few miscalculations amid some typically strong material, but Mascis has proven that he can muster more joyous ingenuity and imagination than he does on Tied to a Star.
