Carol's CMJ Diary, Night One
Wherein I am a Winner and a Loser at the Same Time
I'm a winner. Want to know how I know? Cause my CMJ badge says so, that's how. Who's cool now, former cheerleaders? Thanks to the good folks at ohmyrockness.com, I am the proud bearer of a CMJ badge, something that pretty much anyone can get but not without finding themselves several hundred dollars poorer. Now since I was lucky enough to win this badge, I've decided to put it to good use and see as many shows as possible. After carefully researching Wednesday night's offerings, I made a schedule and began my journey at the Bowery Ballroom. And pretty much every decision I made after that sucked.
The Dizzying Highs
The King of France and Pela kicked things off at Bowery and I guess I shouldn't be shocked that everything was downhill from there. But hey, at least the first two hours of the evening were great. I was a winner, The King of France jangled and jived, and Pela just tore the place down. That's the second time I've seen Pela and they are fast becoming a favorite. A solid rock band, a distinct creative force and stellar musicianship. Their songs are dark but catchy; have you shaken your ass to a song about sleeping pills today? I wish more folks had been there earlier for TKOF, but the people who were there really responded to them, so that was fun. September 27th can't come fast enough.
The Terrifying Lows
Two years ago I picked a CMJ show at random featuring bands I'd never heard of. And so I was introduced The King of France and The National. This year I figured I could do just as well -- or better -- by actually reading about the bands and listening to sound clips. Oh, how wrong I was.
After I left Bowery I walked up to CB's 313 Gallery to see a band with a great name, Forget Cassettes. They were purported to bring the rock and were fronted by a female singer/guitarist. Since I tend to gravitate towards male-driven bands I made a special point to check out at least one female rocker. The first thing I noticed was lead singer Beth Cameron was wearing a negligée. Sigh. Why do women do such stupid things? Generally, I'm not one for being harsh about artists who are just starting out, believing if you can't say something nice you should at least be constructive. But I really want her to not do this again. Wear clothes on stage, Beth. Instant credibility. To make matters worse, she just didn't have the chops to make the poor costume choice irrelevant. Cameron's vocals and lyrics were overwrought and her stage presence was somewhere between crack whore and girl interrupted. Conversely, Aaron Ford and Jay Leo Phillips, drums and bass/keyboard respectively, were incredibly talented and I wish they were in a better band. I only heard two and half songs; I ran as soon as I was able to suck down the glass of wine I had just purchased.
After a slice of pizza, I headed over to Rothko to check out Man Man. Oy. I had read that they were bizarre and energetic with a Tom Waits-ish quality. They were interesting for exactly 37 seconds. Then they were aggravating. I did like the contrast between the gravelly yowl of the lead singer and the falsetto backing vocals, but as one song bled into another I found myself making my way for the door, not before having my next glass of wine thrown all over my pants by a girl who slung her bag over her shoulder right in front of me. Damn girls.
The Creamy Middles
Next on my agenda was to try and weasel my way back into the sold-out Bowery to see Devendra Banhart. But as I began to head that way, the heavens opened and the Intelligent Designer reminded me that I am, and always will be, a loser, no matter what my CMJ badge says. I repositioned my three electronic gadgets -- iPod, phone, digital camera -- to my innermost pockets and began to run. By the time I got to the Bowery Ballroom I was soaked and looked a fool. The show was already half-over and it wasn't crowded outside, so I took solace in the thought that they might actually let me re-enter. Security checked downstairs, told me it was cool and I went inside and began to peel out my ID. At this point I was told that badge or no badge, it was $15 to get in. Zuh? What? So I stood there dripping in the doorway and said, "Well, I guess I won't go in then, but can I just stand here for a second?" I'm not even sure why I said that, but I must have looked terribly pathetic because the security guard took me by the arm and walked me over to the side door and let me in, no charge.
Devendra Banhart wasn't bad. He's a hippy. He performs with a stage full of other hippies. They play hippy music. That's all I really know. But it was pleasant enough and I was able to stand in the back and take my shoes off so I could drip-dry. At one point Steve from The King of France stopped by and asked what I thought of Devendra. All I could think to say was, "I think that last song was about pedophilia."
I had originally planned to see Four Volts at Pianos at 1:00, but given my soppy state I opted for a final glass of wine at Bowery and then a bus ride home. And that's the end of that chapter. In conclusion, since we were recently described by one source as a "service Web site," I will leave you with the most important lesson I learned on the first night of CMJ:
Don't order a $6 drink before the band starts. It's easy to walk out on a band you don't like, it's hard to do so if you just overpaid for a shitty merlot.
Cheers!
I'm a winner. Want to know how I know? Cause my CMJ badge says so, that's how. Who's cool now, former cheerleaders? Thanks to the good folks at ohmyrockness.com, I am the proud bearer of a CMJ badge, something that pretty much anyone can get but not without finding themselves several hundred dollars poorer. Now since I was lucky enough to win this badge, I've decided to put it to good use and see as many shows as possible. After carefully researching Wednesday night's offerings, I made a schedule and began my journey at the Bowery Ballroom. And pretty much every decision I made after that sucked.The Dizzying Highs
The King of France and Pela kicked things off at Bowery and I guess I shouldn't be shocked that everything was downhill from there. But hey, at least the first two hours of the evening were great. I was a winner, The King of France jangled and jived, and Pela just tore the place down. That's the second time I've seen Pela and they are fast becoming a favorite. A solid rock band, a distinct creative force and stellar musicianship. Their songs are dark but catchy; have you shaken your ass to a song about sleeping pills today? I wish more folks had been there earlier for TKOF, but the people who were there really responded to them, so that was fun. September 27th can't come fast enough.
The Terrifying Lows
Two years ago I picked a CMJ show at random featuring bands I'd never heard of. And so I was introduced The King of France and The National. This year I figured I could do just as well -- or better -- by actually reading about the bands and listening to sound clips. Oh, how wrong I was.
After I left Bowery I walked up to CB's 313 Gallery to see a band with a great name, Forget Cassettes. They were purported to bring the rock and were fronted by a female singer/guitarist. Since I tend to gravitate towards male-driven bands I made a special point to check out at least one female rocker. The first thing I noticed was lead singer Beth Cameron was wearing a negligée. Sigh. Why do women do such stupid things? Generally, I'm not one for being harsh about artists who are just starting out, believing if you can't say something nice you should at least be constructive. But I really want her to not do this again. Wear clothes on stage, Beth. Instant credibility. To make matters worse, she just didn't have the chops to make the poor costume choice irrelevant. Cameron's vocals and lyrics were overwrought and her stage presence was somewhere between crack whore and girl interrupted. Conversely, Aaron Ford and Jay Leo Phillips, drums and bass/keyboard respectively, were incredibly talented and I wish they were in a better band. I only heard two and half songs; I ran as soon as I was able to suck down the glass of wine I had just purchased.
After a slice of pizza, I headed over to Rothko to check out Man Man. Oy. I had read that they were bizarre and energetic with a Tom Waits-ish quality. They were interesting for exactly 37 seconds. Then they were aggravating. I did like the contrast between the gravelly yowl of the lead singer and the falsetto backing vocals, but as one song bled into another I found myself making my way for the door, not before having my next glass of wine thrown all over my pants by a girl who slung her bag over her shoulder right in front of me. Damn girls.
The Creamy Middles
Next on my agenda was to try and weasel my way back into the sold-out Bowery to see Devendra Banhart. But as I began to head that way, the heavens opened and the Intelligent Designer reminded me that I am, and always will be, a loser, no matter what my CMJ badge says. I repositioned my three electronic gadgets -- iPod, phone, digital camera -- to my innermost pockets and began to run. By the time I got to the Bowery Ballroom I was soaked and looked a fool. The show was already half-over and it wasn't crowded outside, so I took solace in the thought that they might actually let me re-enter. Security checked downstairs, told me it was cool and I went inside and began to peel out my ID. At this point I was told that badge or no badge, it was $15 to get in. Zuh? What? So I stood there dripping in the doorway and said, "Well, I guess I won't go in then, but can I just stand here for a second?" I'm not even sure why I said that, but I must have looked terribly pathetic because the security guard took me by the arm and walked me over to the side door and let me in, no charge.
Devendra Banhart wasn't bad. He's a hippy. He performs with a stage full of other hippies. They play hippy music. That's all I really know. But it was pleasant enough and I was able to stand in the back and take my shoes off so I could drip-dry. At one point Steve from The King of France stopped by and asked what I thought of Devendra. All I could think to say was, "I think that last song was about pedophilia."
I had originally planned to see Four Volts at Pianos at 1:00, but given my soppy state I opted for a final glass of wine at Bowery and then a bus ride home. And that's the end of that chapter. In conclusion, since we were recently described by one source as a "service Web site," I will leave you with the most important lesson I learned on the first night of CMJ:
Don't order a $6 drink before the band starts. It's easy to walk out on a band you don't like, it's hard to do so if you just overpaid for a shitty merlot.
Cheers!
posted by Carol at 12:10 PM
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6 Comments:
Carol -- I hope you'll continue to write music reviews, even after CMJ is over. This first CMJ article is really great stuff. Keep it up!
What kind of a music pimp would I be if I didn't try to live through you vicariously? Here are a few sets you might not have considered that I would be trying to see for sure if I was there. All bands that have rocked my socks recently.
9/15
The Forecast at Avalon - 6:30
9/16 Voxtrot at Coda - 11:00, also at Pianos at 3 PM, Tribeca Rock Club at 5 PM for parties
9/17
Rogue Wave at the Bowery 11:00 PM
Dressy Bessy at the CMJ Daystage 1:00 PM and the Mercury 8:30 PM
The Hot IQS at Rothko at 2:00 PM for a party, followed by Voxtrot again at 3:00
Great recs, thanks! I think I will be at Bowery all night tonight. But I'm defnitely going to try to catch Voxtrot and Rogue Wave.
"Don't order a $6 drink before the band starts. It's easy to walk out on a band you don't like, it's hard to do so if you just overpaid for a shitty merlot."
The $6 merlot is a sunk cost by that point. Whether you leave or stay, you're still down $6. It's only relevant if you were drinking it in place of something else you would get if you had left.
But I usually think the same way you did.
"The $6 merlot is a sunk cost..."
Sounds like someone went to business school over the past year.
Re spilled drinks and other liquids: now if you'd been wearing the famous poncho...
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