But with the rise of alternative rock in the past few years, a new, decidedly unwanky style has been taking oven Raised on the urgency and rebelliousness of punk, the new guitar heroes have no time for indulgent solos or macho posturing. J Mascis of Dinosaur Jr and Jon Spencer of the Ion Spencer Blues Explosion are the current gods of the movement–Mascis because he’s the most melodic and eloquent guitarist that punk has produced, Spencer because he’s the most audacious. But the new school includes men and women. Kelley Deal of the Breeders had never played guitar when she joined the band, but the glorious minimalism of her solos meshes perfectly into their angular pop songs. Thalia Zedek and Chris Brokaw of Come scrunch and distort the Stones’ twin-guitar sound. Steve Malkmus and Scott Kannberg of Pavement specialize in unexpected melodies and progressions. Guitar noodling may not be dead, but for now it’s been displaced. “The thing is that it’s fun to do, if you’re a guitar player,” says Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth. “That’s what led to all that overblown lead wanking of the ’60s and ’70s. All of a sudden a generation woke up and said, ‘Well, it may be fun to do, but it’s a f—ing bore’.”
The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion seems built for iconoclasm: the three-piece lineup includes two guitars, drums and no bass. On Orange (Matador), Spencer borrows from the same blues sources–Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Elmore James-that led to later rock excess. But instead of mimicking the genre, he subverts it, adds some punk and comes up with a sound that’s brash, funky and impossibly groovy. Spencer’s guitar playing is primitive, yet intuitive: like Keith Richards, he hits it when he feels it. And his voice is the sound of someone who just can’t contain himself. When he bellows I’m gonna dig that ditch.t in “Ditch,” it’s the most lascivious sentiment since Howlin’ Wolf pitched his wang dang doodle. In several songs, Spencer actually mentions the Blues Explosion by name. “I can’t help it,” says Spencer. “I’m excited to be part of the Blues Explosion. I gotta let everybody know.”
Mascis’s guitar is the most articulate thing about him. On record his voice is a choked drawl; in interviews he barely puts together a sentence at a time. On Without a Sound (Sire/ Reprise), Mascis lets his guitar do the real talking. “Feel the Pain” puts delicate melodic bits in front of a thick wall of distortion; “Outta Hand” uses a shimmery acoustic. Live, Mascis is more prone to traditional solos, but his leads show admirable restraint. His guideline? “Play it as long as it doesn’t suck,” he says. A wanker wouldn’t know the difference.
