Note: Junior high refers to the Canadian/American system, where typical junior high was grades 7 through 10, which for you English is secondary school, just before your GSCEs. Now you can't complain.

Pardon me, but I feel nostalgic, and I am only 24. Seeing Dinosaur Jr a few nights ago was like going back to junior high, where plaid fleece was attractive and getting to second base was my daily goal, one I failed at with razor-sharp precision. You see, I was a badass in junior high – yes you can be a badass in junior high – and I listened to badass music; grunge, metal, alternative rock and Miles Davis. Dinosaur Jr and Sebadoh were staples, as important in my daily routine as bitching and complaining. Each fuzzy, distorted note on You’re All Living Over Me was bliss, rolling into one long, dark song that represented my anger; anger I call bullshit on now, but anger nonetheless. Early teenage years are supposed to be crap socially, and this music, only this music, resonated. It bled with me.

Now I am older and surprised that J Mascis, Barlow and Murph are back together, on tour and, dare I say it, have a new album out. Beyond is said record and, in summation, it harks back to yesteryear with each of its songs. After digesting the record a few times, Beyond managed to keep up and assuage any sense of disappointment, because as reunions go, this one looked ominous. Barlow and Mascis did break-up acrimoniously, and nothing from the original trio has risen since 1988. Remember, it is almost twenty years since Bug, their last collaboration. Nostalgic is understandable.

But on to the show: the Paradiso is packed, and earplugs are being handed out on entrance. When it comes to Dinosaur Jr, few can have it any other way but loud. The threesome emerge beneath a behemoth of amplifiers; Mascis has six amps on one side and Barlow three bass stacks, placed on top of each other. The earplugs, ultimately, do very little, but they don’t have to: I’m hooked immediately. It’s demonic, cynical and angry, but simultaneously relieving. The ghouls of past social problems, be it theirs or mine, seemingly disappear as the band alternate from old to new, clearing the air with each guitar solo, bass pound or cymbal smash. Suddenly, being pissed off as a kid makes sense, because this music is not to be enjoyed joyfully; it is ferocious, loud for a reason and equally intense. Whether it’s 'Feel The Pain' – so happy they played this one – or newer ones 'We’re Not Alone' and 'Crumble', Dinosaur Jr are incisive, tight and urgent. Loud, too.

A makeshift mosh-pit joins the party, even though Dinosaur Jr does not make mosh-pitty music. I do not get the mosh-pit ethos, but a bunch of kids do, getting down and dirty towards the end of the set, especially when they unveil new single 'Almost Ready' and epochal side splitter ‘Start Choppin’. I was not bumping elbows and uglies in the pit; I was in the balcony. But emotionally, a maelstrom of past lives, awkwardness and ills dissipated, much like the adolescent aggression steaming up from down below. Over the course of the hour-long set and encore lovelies, I come to terms with moments past, ones masked with music to avoid dealing with the actual problems beneath.Yet, these problems were nothing but trivial, useless and childish. Reliving Dinosaur Jr, if only for an hour, makes me realize this. There was never a problem to begin with, and this music was screaming that all along. Junior high is supposed to be shite, and grunge music is supposed to allay that. It is its job. Great show.