Lou Barlow’s musical span of attention has never been very long. That’s part of why he bounced around in so many bands in the 90s: Dinosaur Jr., Sebadoh, Sentridoh, the Folk Implosion, most recently, a solo record. The man has proved impossible to pin down for any extended period of time. But now he has reconvened with bassist and songwriter Jason Lowenstein to tour as Sebadoh, the masthead of his most prolific and beloved act. Lowenstein and Barlow were brought together for the 10th anniversary celebration of British label Domino Records, whose first release was a Sebadoh album. Finding that their creative vibe was still there, they decided to tour, bringing along a boom box with cheaply recorded drum lines to fill out the combo. In concert, the boom box sits on a stool between the two sentient members of the band, and its tinny tones are a reminder of the band’s lo-fi roots.

Sebadoh formed in 1989 and went through a series of drummers with Barlow and Loewenstein at the songwriting core. Barlow had just been kicked out of Dinosaur Jr. after a nasty feud with Dinosaur Jr. frontman J. Mascis, whom Barlow then trashed on their 1991 album III on the song “The Freed Pig,” played mid-set at their Sunday night concert at T.T. the Bear’s Place. “Self-righteous but never right / so laid-back but so uptight.” The feud between the two has been among the most historic in 90s indie rock, but reconciliation seems to be on the way: the two are sharing a stage at a Smith College benefit show in their mutual home of Northampton later this year. Fans witnessing Barlow’s reconvening with Lowenstein are forced to at least speculate whether one with Mascis could be equally possible.

T.T.’s was at capacity for the concert, and all along this tour the duo has played to sellout audiences. In the hours before the show Barlow milled about the club, signing posters and having a few drinks. He strikes an imposing image: clad in a suit-jacket, tall, with Elvis Costello glasses, the presence of the elder statesman of indie rock that he is. But the minute he stepped on stage, with the simple phrase “Welcome back,” he became the rock avatar of years past, shedding his suit coat for a conservative gray T-shirt with the phrase “No. 2.” On the other side of the stool-perched boom-box, Jason Loewenstein leered over the audience, dwarfing his bass, clearly thrilled to be back in the city where Sebadoh was based. Unable to contain his glee, he teetered back and forth swigging from his Heineken and keeping time with Barlow’s lead guitar. When he did take lead vocals, perhaps most prominently on the heart-wrenching “Got It,” he showed himself every bit the effective songwriter as Barlow.

The interplay between the two songwriters has always been integral to Sebadoh. Their three great albums—III, Bakesale and Harmacy—have always featured an even distribution of songwriting credits between the two, and Lowenstein’s vitriol is constantly tempered by Barlow’s cool. The balance between the two, as physically manifested on-stage on corresponding sides of the boom-box drum machine, keeps their sound constantly engaging—there is a Sebadoh sound, but split between two ultimately different songwriters who share an aesthetic for murky, reflective, grunge-lite songwriting. Sebadoh’s releases spanned the years when the west coast indie scene suddenly morphed into world-famous “alternative rock,” and in concert these songs strike an eerie parallel to their cross-country counterparts.

The perils of being close to home crept in on the band, as at one point an audience member familiar with subjects of a song yelled something alluding to a specific romance that caught Barlow’s ear. This came from the same part of the audience that had been yelling about Barlow and Loewenstein’s frequent breaks to retune—many of the songs were in alternate tunings—and their absent human drummer. Barlow, the king of cool, brushed off these comments (and those about Mascis made during and after “The Freed Pig”) with a simple statement: “These are songs. They are written to entertain an audience. The people and situations are irrelevant. Take them and make them your own.” His forceful entreaty shut up the crowd and caused a moment of reflection about the sensitivity of the heart-on-sleeve singer-songwriter.

The band hit its stride plucking from its two biggest albums, Bakesale and Harmacy. Barlow and Loewenstein, without a new album to cull from, gleefully tossed out crowd-pleasers like “On Fire,” “Rebound,” and “Skull” without any sign that playing these compromised some sense of artistic integrity. Simply, they entertained, and seemed to have a great time doing it. By the time Loewenstein started reminiscing about filming the video for “Ocean” there at T.T.’s, it had become more than obvious that just returning home was a joy for the reunited duo.

—Staff writer Christopher A. Kukstis can be reached at kukstis@fas.harvard.edu.