When CMJ began on Tuesday, I have to admit that I was less than completely excited because, despite working for a groundbreaking music + culture mag, I felt that I'd pretty much fallen off the "hot new music" wagon and could not identify a large majority of the bands at the festival....however, I soon realized (and remembered, from my past two CMJ experiences) that a] most of the bands are pretty underground anyway, which is the whole point, right? and b] it's pretty fun to go out and see music with absolutely no expectations, or to go out and see bands according to the guidance of other more "in-the-know" pals. Thus began my third CMJ journey!

My first night of CMJ adventuring was a peculiar one. First, my co-BRM-editors Kyle, Shannon and I wanted to attend the New Zealand jamfest (I especially wanted to see Surf City and Die! Die! Die! since I have written about both of them), but, much to our dismay, this event was advertised on the CMJ badges and even on the back of the CMJ book and, needless to say, the line was around the block. We quickly decided to move on and walked to the Lower East Side where we found ourselves sitting in the back room of The Living Room. After a pit-stop in their old-school photobooth, we witnessed papercranes. Lead singer Rain Phoenix, who has the look of a woman who has lived some hell of a crazy life, was thrilling to watch. Her dreamy, mellow pop had a Lilith Fair meets bohemian lounge vibe; certainly the type of band to listen to while sitting at a candle-lit table, sipping wine in a red-tinted room.

Although papercranes was a lovely experience, I was in dire need of some real noise! After drinks and crepes, we tried to get into Cake Shop for Surf City, whom we had missed earlier, but by then they had filled the basement capacity with too many badges, so we were turned away. That's one complicated aspect of CMJ...every venue has its own rules about occupancy and costs, and therefore possessing the coveted badge does not guarantee that you'll actually get in to the show you want. Then again, I rather like the roaming-around-NYC quality of this music and film festival,  as opposed to most others that mnake it too easy, and the fact that it requires its participants to frequent grimy bars and backrooms and lofts and Brooklyn bars to scope out the music they crave. 

Case in point, we headed over to The Suffolk Back Room, which is actually a converted church. The room  had movie-theater-style seating with Christmas lights covering most of the seats, and we entered into a scene  of one guy playing acoustic guitar, and a couple of others banging some sort of instruments, while the audience sat in a circle around them, responding enthusiastically. We were hoping to catch Fool's Gold, but they never did show up; instead we watched this musician and then a hip-hop-meets-electro-clash hipster band who shouted into three microphones. FIRS and Rumspringa were listed as playing, but  those were neither of the bands I saw. In any event, the power went out temporarily, which signaled to me that maybe it was time to give up and try my luck again the next night. 

On Wednesday, I went with two friends to Mercury Lounge on Houston. We caught Javelin,  an eccentric male duo performing "tropical crunk" inspired by "endless loop tapes" (loop tapes, loop tapes, loop tapes...); in other words, the guys were playing with funky instruments, switches, samples, and beats, but also creating punk rock noise amid Kraftwerk-esque sounds. One of their songs even featured Cobain's "I'm on a plain, I can't complain" refrain, which absolutely delighted me! Next up at Mercury was The XX, an early '80s inspired band featuring male and female members. They reminded me of Blonde Redhead crossed with Jesus and Mary Chain and possibly Film School, with a hint of Cocteau Twins in the female vocals and an overall soulful melancholy. Their music and subdued, too-cool presence was refreshing in its stark difference to many of the indie rock bands at CMJ. Assymetrical songs were melodically unpredictable, veering between quiet and loud, and I noticed a couple of bass or guitar lines comparable to Interpol. Definitely a band worth seeing again.

We then made our way to my area, Bleecker Street, for The Green Owl showcase at the ultra-hip Le Poisson Rouge. My friend Jake and I caught Violens, a rock band that was too polished for its own good. The guys were tight as hell, but they needed to let their hair down and move a little more to be in the true spirit of the rock n' roll they obviously admired. Next came  my friend Tris' (of Skeletonbreath) band, Grandchildren. The six male members had more energy than the whole hundred-something crowd! They switched instruments and hopped around stage like sprite musical monkeys, emphatically banging multiple drums, tooting on a trombone, banging a tambourine, playing guitars, and bass and emitting choral chants from their wide open throats. Calling to mind Animal Collective, their organic-meets-electronic, neo-tribal, schizo-psychedelic sound promoted wild dancing and joyful madness! 

On Thursday, I attended the Beyond Race Magazine CMJ Happy Hour showcase at Crash Mansion on Bowery. Jeff the Brotherhood was another male duo: brothers with a spitfire rock attitude, and leather pants to boot! Guitarist Jake and drummer Jamin (with his "Jeffro Tull" kickdrum) from Tennessee maintained a presence that was halfway between snarling and absolutely adorable (especially when Jake jumped around on nearby cushions and got up in some faces with wide, staring eyes); their music was a perfectly fun blend of fast-paced punky grunge with a slightly '70s glean. Our BRM event also featured the dancey, electro-soul Bodega Girls and the multi-dimensional, bustling Apollo Heights, who somehow fit an awful lot of people on stage.  

I then entered the cave-like, sweaty basement of Lit Lounge on Second Ave (but first, falafels on St. Marks!) for a very "math rock" showcase. The low-ceilinged Lit basement is an ideal setting for raucous "underground" (get it?) bands. I caught The Bronzed Chorus, HO-AG, Cinemechanica, and So Many Dynamos all in a three-hour period. I especially dug HO-AG's use of a megaphone/keyboard combination and the guitarist/singer's bold presence, as well as their self-stated "weird mess of sci-fi B-movie spazz-rock drama songs." Cinemechanica and So Many Dynamos leaned more toward prog-rock, with a few Mars Volta riffs in the backdrop of harder-edged anarchy. Quite an ear-blasting night!

On Friday, I gave my ears a little break and went to see Searching for Elliott Smith. This is the first visual documentary on the artist who is so near and dear to my heart; I rememebr the night he died and hoping it was only a rumor, listening to his music all night long and crying over a loss that was partially expected. Rather than going the route of getting famous people to appear in the film, Director Gil Reyes interviewed Elliott's closest friends, former bandmates and roommates, and independent musicians/ directors/ producers from different eras in his life (namely Portland, Brooklyn, and LA)...even his high school principle in Texas made an appearance (although none of his family members agreed to participate). A painfully honest portrayal, the film treated Elliott like a real person, with faults, talents, and a copmplicated yet not completely uncommon background. One of his friends discussed their mutual propsensity to want to fail, even if they were nearing success. In fact, we learn that Elliott considered most of his songs to be too perfect and consciously decided to "fuck them up" before releasing them to the public. Reyes successfully included Elliott's actual music, film clips, music videos, and quirky illustrations and animations to add to his low-budget project. The most shocking aspect of the film was not only its close look into Elliott's eventual downward spiral, but the confessions made by his last girlfriend, Jennifer Chiba, who some accuse of murdering Elliott. She tearfully explains exactly what happened on Oct. 21, 2003 and even goes to the police department in an attempt to clear things up with detectives who not only ruled the death as inconclusive, but who also stated that Chiba refused to speak with them when asked to. Reyes is obviously convinced that Elliott's death was indeed a suicide, which is quite a different experience from the highly opinionated Kurt & Courntey documentary that was released in the '90s. 

Upon leaving the film, the cold rain matched my somber mood,  but I perked back up when I met my friends at the L train and headed into Brooklyn for a night at Trash Bar. We went to see Goes Cube, whom I have interviewed and written about for BRM. With a new bassist, Matt, replacing former bassist, Matt, the threesome pounded out song after song with sincerity and bravado. Seriously, they get better every time I see them! The crowd may have been on the smaller side, but everyone there was into the heavy, post-metal, grungy hardcore Goes Cube has to offer. They were even begged to play an encore! Watching them was a perfect end to the night and to CMJ...not only in terms of witnessing a band I love progress, but because they have the ability to drag me out of my own head and refuel my body! Truly amazing.

 On Saturday, I left the CMJ festival and my NYC apartment for another city I love, Philadelphia, to see Dr. Dog at the TLA on South Street. The stage design featured giant heads of tigers and a lion; fake grass, trees, and flowers; and an interweaving colorful striped backdrop that the band members' shirts perfectly matched! The magical little on-stage world was perfect for the high-spirited band, and the joint-toking, hippie-loving, all-smiles crowd seemed to love it too! Dr. Dog played for two hours, with a four-song encore, performing a good variety of simpler songs (like a slightly melancholic acoustic about West Philly) and dance-worthy tunes. And dance the audience did! The best part of the show was when Scott McMicken pretended to order pizzas for the audience on the phone, and then, after the next song, people holding pizza boxes appeared onstage! The multiples pizza boxes crowd-surfed and McMicken encouraged everyone to just hang out and eat some pizza...he even started the anthem, "Let's go Phillies! Let's go Pizza!" Such a supremely and purely fun concert experience that left a delicious taste in my mouth...even though I don't eat pizza. 

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A look back at my first CMJ experience, in 2007:

words by Amy Dupcak  (www.no-alternative.net)