It’s been almost ten years since Spin magazine – much to the mortification of its cover star – ran the headline ‘Is J Mascis God?’ That was on the eve of Dinosaur Jr’s finest 45 minutes, the bruised and tender Where You Been. Since then Mascis has changed little musically, but the times have, and in 2002 he seems like a castaway sending bottled dispatches from the US peripheries rather than a candidate for deity status.

This is his third solo album, but as I say, the only thing that has changed is the name. Being a Dinosaur fan, I don’t have a problem with that: some artists change their clothes every other week, some just grow a thicker hide. Accordingly, Free So Free’s closest blood relative is probably 1995’s underrated Without A Sound, and the trademarks remain intact. The guy’s a great hard rock drummer in the busy-bee late-’60s mode, his vocal phrasing is addictive, and he’s of the Neil Young school of gutsy but physically dyslexic guitar playing (showcased to great effect on the title tune). Plus, in an era when even the so-called garage bands won’t take a piss without their click tracks, it’s a novel joy to hear songs like ‘Freedom’ wilfully fluctuate in the tempo department. You can just imagine the scene in the studio:

Engineer: “You were speeding up a bit on that one J.”

J: “So?”

On the other hand, his songwriting instincts are almost feminine at times, certainly passive-aggressive (not that the two are necessarily connected) like Carole King with a Live Rust sized distortion pedal. Throwaway, he most certainly is not.

Whatever. Free So Free is up there with his best work. Shit, maybe the guy is God after all.