“Hand It Over,” and the First "Real" Ending

To Dinosaur Jr.

By

Jesse Mullen

J. Mascis regards Hand It Over as one of his finest creations. So why have so few people outside of his devoted cult heard it? Let’s travel back to the late ‘90s to find out why. Actually, let’s travel back to the early ‘80s, when Geoff Travis of Rough Trade formed Blanco y Negro records, in partnership with The Warners. Travis had set up Blanco, in an effort to recoup lost finances at Rough Trade, during their dreadful year that was 1982. This had a positive effect in the long run, as Blanco helped bring bands like The Jesus and Mary Chain in the ‘80s and, later on in the ‘90s, Dinosaur Jr. However, as the 90s progressed, finances at Warners had shifted to quick singles, and this had a profound effect on the lesser-selling artists on Warners, particularly the smaller (by major label standards) Blanco y Negro. Hand It Over was released in 1997. I think you know where I’m heading with this, but I’ll spell it out anyway. The label put zero effort into promoting it, and pressed way too few copies of it (which is why pressings of the record go for large sums on eBay and Discogs to this day.) As a result of the lack of Sales, Dinosaur Jr. (really just Mascis at this point, after firing Lou Barlow in 1989, and Murph quitting in 1993 due to nervous exhaustion.) were dropped by Blanco, and J. retired the name. Which is a shame, because the music encoded on the disc, (or pressed into wax, if you’re rich, and own it on vinyl like me) is some of the best Mascis has ever written. Opener “I Don’t Think” (not to be confused with Dinosaur’s 1994 track “I Don’t Think So,” from the staid, and genuinely underwhelming Without A Sound) kicks the album off with a heavy riff, and a falsetto vocal, before kicking into it’s melodic, wistful chorus, featuring vocal harmonies from My Bloody Valentine’s Bilinda Butcher. (MBV do-it-all Kevin Shields can also be heard saying “What?” at the end of the track, through the fuzz.) The track also features a bit of a surprise; a Melodica solo, played by either Mascis or Shields. In addition to all of this, it contains one of Mascis's most concise, and economical guitar solos, to the tracks advantage; it's meant to be perfect pop. Not one of his monstrous Marshall-blasting opuses. The next track starts off like Neil Young got a hold of a delay pedal, and decided to shake the cobwebs off, but then moves into more of a summery mood, with a mellotron break, and some mewling vocals by Mascis in his signature way. Whenever I’m traveling through Amherst, MA (Mascis’s hometown) in the summertime, this is my favorite track to play, as I stroll through the common. (Shields also pops up on this track as well, adding additional vocals to the final bridge.)

“Nothings Going On” features some chugging guitar work, and lyrically finds Mascis supporting a female friend in need, and reassuring her of his loyalty to her.

“I’m Insane” features trumpet, and backing vocals from Tiffany Anders.

“Can’t We Move This” has possibly the “biggest” sound of all of the tracks on side A (barring one, which I will get to in a minute), with its layer upon layer of multitracked guitar, pumped through Marshall stacks at top volume, a thunderous drum performance by J, and walls of strings, arranged by Mascis. Phil Spector would shit himself, if he wasn’t rotting in a cell somewhere.

The following track, “Alone” is possibly the heaviest Dinosaur Jr. song of all time, and makes “Don’t” (From Bug) seem quiet in comparison. An ominous three chord riff begins the song, before giving way to Mascis’s psychedelic churning, and his vocals come in. To be honest, the lyrics don’t even have to be deciphered to know that he is going through a rough time. He doesn’t even have to scream. And he doesn’t; he lets his guitar do it for him. I can’t even describe the tones that he gets out of his Jazzmaster, and pedalboard of over 50 different effects. You’ll just have to listen, and find out for yourself.

If you think the music described he sounds more diverse than the average Dinosaur Jr. album, you would be correct. Mascis seems to be more dedicated than ever, to work the arrangements to their most adventurous possibilities.

Side B kicks off with “Sure Not Over You,” a majestic, mournful tale of love lost, groupies, and “A vibe so bad I wanna puke.” Could J. see the end in sight? We’ll never know.

The next two tracks, “Loaded” and “Mick” while worthwhile, are the typical retreading tracks that you get with any Dinosaur Jr. record.

“I Know Yer Insane” is a scorching rocker, performed with gusto, and is the only track recorded with the then-current full live lineup, and the only Dinosaur Jr. studio recording to feature George Berz on drums.

This is followed up with the folk-y “Gettin’ Rough.” While not the final track on the album, I’ve always seen this as Dinosaur’s “The End.” Performed by J. on a banjo, and kick drums, he sees the writing on the wall; “The charm is gone” he sings “Time to move on.”

“I’m ready now, the question is how?” I get tears in my eyes during this one. It reminds me of times in my life, when I’ve gone through great change, like graduating High School, or saying goodbye to something/someone I love. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for J.

The actual final track, “Gotta Know” is a fitting ending to the Dinosaur era. A minor key ballad, with a wistful vocal from Mascis, we find our hero laying his love to rest, while looking to the future.

After disbanding Dinosaur in October of 1997, Mascis would embark on a solo tour in 1998, form The Fog 3 years later (releasing the equally underrated “More Light” a shoegazing/noise rock hybrid album that has aged brilliantly), disband the fog 2 years after that, and release a tribute record to “The Hugging Saint” in 2005.

Then something funny happened. The original members of Dinosaur decided that they work best when together, and reformed in the spring of 2005.

As of this writing, the reunited Dinosaur Jr. have released 3 albums, 2007’s Beyond, 2009’s Farm, and 2012’s I Bet On Sky. While the music on each of these releases easily eclipses that on Hand It Over, I still have more of an emotional attachment to this record. Mascis is playing with his heart on the fretboard, and experimenting more than he ever had, (and for the most part, ever would.) And that, my friends, is enough to make this critic satisfied.

Blanco y Negro/1997