Matt (sans Kim) receiving love at the Metromix New York 2007 CMJ showcase
When I found out Metromix New York was getting involved with this showcase I was excited (my boys The Hood Internet making their NYC debut) and mildly concerned (mash-up/scratch kings Flosstradamus leading into Matt & Kim…that’s weird). But beats are beats, and Matt & Kim fans know how to go shit crazy for Kim’s enormous snare snaps. So two Chicago-based DJ duos opening for a sparse, drum and keys duo really does work out just fine. Plus, both fan bases like to rock backpacks, so fashion wise, they are just about on the same page.
The Hood Internet opened with an hour-long set that drifted through their 125-song stockpile, erupting the crowd with certified jams “Drop the Icebox Pressure” and the Feist/Loyd hookup “My Moon My Shawty” (the females squealed to the familiar opening bars of “My Moon, My Man.”). Flosstradamus followed and picked it up a notch, incorporating live scratching and old favorites (the Beastie’s “Intergalactic” shook the room) with the duo’s banging remixes, including the Tranced-out, handclap happy version of Matt & Kim’s “Yea Yeah.”
After entering the stage to an untouched version of “The Sweater Song” (Floss did the right thing by playing the segue straight), Matt & Kim set up, smiled a lot and alerted the hundreds of fan boys/girls that the show was the couple’s last of they year (in Brooklyn at least). After the boos settled, the duo ripped into the set, playing a bunch of songs that sounded familiar and “Yea Yeah.” Possibly twice. I missed most of the performance, instead chatting outside with Art Goblin’s (Art Brut) sometime guitarist, producer and muse (from what I could tell) Keith TOTP. He told me about the band (basically Art Brut, less some members, but fronted by Eddie Argos) and why he wasn’t playing (Eddie missed his flight out of LA and arrived to the venue late, vodka gimlets being the admitted cause). He causally mentioned that the band was going to instead busk in the lobby. I thought he was cracking wise. Well, they busked in the lobby. For like ten minutes with one amp and no mic. I have no idea what they played. I don’t know if they did, but it at least looked like they were having a hell of a time. We interviewed them after the show, along with all the bands. The vid will be live by the end of the week. Until them, here are a couple clips. —Matt Rodbard
Mancino, Man in Gray, A Place to Bury Strangers / The Delancey
At the Hot Rocks/Stereoactive NYC showcase Brooklyn trio Mancino proved the adage that necessity is the mother of invention. With percussionist Jonathan Mason temporarily stuck in California for work, guitarist Mike Grimes and keyboard wizard Nadim Issa took their circus-pop songs on a dark, jittery turn. Opening with three new pieces, they evoked the Liars more than anything else—a surprising twist from a band known for their sunny dance tunes. Man in Gray drummer Jeremiah McVay sat in for the la-la filled “L’Amour or Less,” and when he nailed it (no, they hadn’t rehearsed), he stayed put. Nice to see spontaneous improv pay off, as in the catchy (if harder than usual) “Hetchie Hutchie Footchie.”
A good Man in Gray show is like a car driving too fast along a hairpin curve: it’s most exciting when it’s about to crash. And this was a good Man in Gray show, including new material plus songs from the recent full-length “I Can’t Sleep Unless I Hear You Breathing.” “Sleeping” and “Last Night’s Party” were high-voltage standouts, with singer Tina DaCosta going from whisper to howl in a matter of seconds. (Full disclosure: I’ve been dating a member of Man in Gray for three years, but I’m not saying which one. They’re all so attractive!)
A Place to Bury Strangers weren’t as loud as I’ve seen them before, which made it possible to hear Oliver Ackermann’s guitar playing (as opposed to hearing Oliver Ackermann’s famous homemade guitar pedals). There was still plenty of thunder, though the set was only six songs long—I was happy to hear my favorite, “To Fix the Gash in Your Head,” which ably demonstrates Ackermann’s Joy Division-goes-roar aesthetic. Those who pooh-pooh projections at shows should at least respect the fact that APTBS’s visuals come via actual 16mm projectors, with strobe effects courtesy of a friend and a couple pieces of cardboard. The spectacle may be elaborate, but it’s not meant to be slick. —Mary Phillips-Sandy
Ford & Fitzroy / White Rabbit; Craig Wedren / Pianos
Two venues, two blogs, one concept: provide an afternoon of free shows for weary concertgoers to relax on couches and listen to some chilled-out acoustic music. And that happened, except when it didn't. At White Rabbit for Gothamist's final day, Ford & Fitzroy neglected the whole acoustic thing, plugging in and turning up. Never mind that it was 4:30 in the afternoon, lead singer Jay Schneider was gonna wig out, wailing and flailing like his life depended on it. With half the band on stage and the rest wedged in whatever spare space they could find, they kicked up a pretty racket that brought to mind early Modest Mouse while the assembled tapped their toes and nodded their heads. With any luck they played their freewheeling indie rock to a more crowded house that evening at Cake Shop.
A few blocks east, Craig Wedren and friends were setting up on the second floor of Pianos, where Brooklyn Vegan was presenting a two-pronged attack of shows, with the upstairs area reserved for, well, more reserved artists. Wedren has taken a varied approach to his post-Shudder to Think career, contributing mellow compositions to films, going disco with “Baby,” and crafting mature pop under his own name (a second solo album is in the works). For this show, he brought along a small band, including ex-Guided by Voices drummer Kevin March, who turned in a more nuanced performance than the last time we saw him bashing away. Wedren had what looked like a mammoth setlist but played only five songs, showcasing his gentle, lilting croon. He closed it out with the appropriately titled "Day Ditty," a lazily swirling Shudder to Think song that provided the perfect soundtrack to a laid-back afternoon before the night's amped-up rock festivities were to begin. —Catherine Hopkinson
Scotland Yard Gospel Choir, Ha Ha Tonka / Union Pool
Slathered with a fresh coat of grease, the slabs of ground beef roasting on the charcoal grill for Bloodshot Records’ infamous CMJ Barbeque crackled as plumes of thick smoke filled the enclosed patio of Brooklyn’s Union Pool on Saturday. Bedecked in tattered grease monkey shirts, hordes of outlaw c’untry brethren slouched in circles. They smoked Pall Malls, swigged beer cans and spoke in hushed tones about the new “Best of Wanda Jackson” compilation. Meanwhile inside the former pool supply store chamber pop folkists Scotland Yard Gospel Choir tore through charts of well-textured brass that the nearly rattled the paint chips off of Union Pool’s pressed-tin walls. Frontman Elia Einhorn even bled like a stuck pig, his blood-coated hand snagged on a pesky guitar string.
Similar in tonal inflection and style to Nashville’s countrypolitian indie-pop collective Lambchop, Scotland Yard Gospel Choir consolidates its 50-plus roster of musicians while on tour, yet somehow manages to fill the room their soaring choruses and bright acoustics. Ha Ha Tonka, currently on tour with the Meat Puppets, provided a new definition of whiskey-soaked southern rock, shifting the Old 97s paradigm into a loose vibed Dixieland punch of slap bass crescendo and rippleless harmonics. Their a capella version of “Hangman” just ‘bout brought chills down my spine. It was almost like the second coming of the Gatlin Brothers with Ha Ha Tonka’s rich baritones and tenors melding together as one. Of course, Ha Ha Tonka probably gits’ more Appalachian tail. —Joey Hood
Slim Cessna’s Auto Club / The Annex
Slim Cessna and his Auto Club rolled in from Denver with a modified version of their post-apocalyptic revival show; too bad they were short one of two frontmen (Munly Munly was absent because of a family emergency). Slim, clad in head-to-toe red save for a sweaty white cowboy hat, made up the difference, jumping off the stage and falling to his knees like the preacher’s son he is. Guitarist Dwight Pentacost’s instrument was another sight to behold, and I’m not just talking about his moustache. No sir, Dwight plays a custom-built red velvet double-necked guitar with a portrait of Jesus on the body, and if that doesn’t tell you something about Slim Cessna’s Auto Club, you’re not paying attention.
It was peculiar to hear Slim’s spooky country songs about booze and lost souls in a venue as shiny as the Annex, but the robust sound system did the pedal steel justice and audience members up front had their hands in the air (praise-style, not raise the roof-style). “Providence, the New Jerusalem” found Slim curled on the floor, with people gathered in a circle to lift him up. Those who stood in the back glued to their Sidekicks missed out on a frighteningly good live music experience, but as Slim said (one long, pale finger pointed to the sky ): “Some people don’t want to be touched.” —Mary Phillips-Sandy
Eagle Seagull / White Rabbit; Mussels, Goes Cube / Club Midway
I wonder if getting a pizza delivered has ever had such positive promotional opportunities for a band. That is in fact how I heard about Lincoln, Nebraska's Eagle Seagull. Long story short, I'm not the only one catching the buzz as they played to a packed Gothamist House on Saturday. The band is reminiscent of Arcade Fire but the electric violin and larger group dynamic might conjure that feeling more than the actual songs. The typical Midwest restraint was nowhere in evidence in their upbeat, yet brooding, sound as they played an energetic set full of rollicking keyboard arrangements and striking violin accents filtered through the requisite rock instruments. With their goofy name and inspiring set, it was hard for me not to holler some shout outs for "Eagle Seagull" amongst the satiated crowd applause.
Brooklyn's Mussels are possibly one of the most underrated bands on the New York scene. With this year's self-released "Little Voices," the four-piece have created a swaying and guitar-driven catchy rock album. It seems they have finally found their sea legs, opening for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and scoring a top ten rating for the track "Cannon on a Clothesline" on WOXY.com earlier this summer. Flying their ‘90s indie-rock flag, they meld complex prog guitar arrangements with an energetic rhythm section as co-songwriters Brandon Lenihan and John Niccoli trade off vocals. The bittersweet wordplay in reference to life's lemons always tries to see the positive even if you're not sure the captain has control of the boat. While the sound at Club Midway didn't quite do justice to their usually bright, dual guitar pyrotechnics it was clear they were adding some knots to the speed. "Thank you, good night," indeed.
CMJ doesn't exactly fulfill your average heavy music fan's needs. With just a smattering of metal and stoner-rock shows at odd hours and odder venues, Brooklyn's Goes Cube were a refreshing anomaly in an already interesting bill at Midway. Taking guitar cues from heavier classic indie rock (Dino Jr) and a rhythm foundation equally steeped in early ‘90's hardcore and Sleep-inspired doom and you get the idea. This is already down-tuned fun, but what really made this set was the true punk fuck-off of forced audience participation. When the singer/guitarist lunged into the crowd like he was in a joust or took the mic up to a random crowd member for a grasping scream-along, it was a nice reminder that live music can still be dangerous. —Carl Gambrell
Band of Horses / Gramercy Theater (10/20) and Bowery Ballroom (10/21)
The “surprise headliner” for Blender’s CMJ Sessions on Friday night was Band of Horses. The set time was 2:30am, and although BoH are the cool band to like, you have to love them and rally pretty hard and to make it out on the fourth night of CMJ when you’re just over it. So, as much as I wanted to hate Josh Harnett for showing up and bringing his celebrity to the Gramercy Theater, I couldn’t, because he’s probably a genuine fan.
Band of Horses’ Friday set was similar to their Saturday Bowery Ballroom one where they diplomatically played six songs from “Everything All the Time” and six songs from their new record “Cease to Begin.” (I desperately wanted to hear “No One’s Gonna Love You,” but no dice). Ben Bridwell showed off his new toy, an absurd, white double-neck guitar and played “Marry Song” with a sly grin on his face. The band attempted the next song four times, but when they couldn’t get it right, they gave up and went straight into “Wicked Gil.” I still don’t know what they intended to play.
More excitement ensued during “Our Swords” when Bridwell, perhaps in response to a less than favorable record review, sang: “Best to be dim to the humble of traffic stepping on your name, Stereogum.” BoH ended with a soulful cover of “Am I a Good Man” by Them Two, and despite doing this on both nights, I forgive them, because sometimes twice can be really nice. —Nadine Cheung
Photo by Adan Schneider
