How do you spell CMJ? L-E-S

A long, long time ago in suburbia, I played in a rock band. After a few rehearsals to experiment with our “sound,” we decided it was time to put on a show. I sent out the e-vites complete with directions to my house, and a good 15 people showed up for the free booze. We played and we danced and we all enjoyed ourselves. My living room became the stage to the first show of our short history.

Women perform at the CMJ Music Marathon in New York City. (William Wei, WPIX / October 22, 2008)

Last week, I went to see a handful of the 1,100 plus bands playing the CMJ Music Marathon, and it made me reflect on my youthful dream of being a rockstar. The first show I went to see featured up and coming Swedish singer Lykke Li at the Bowery Ballroom. I’ve only heard good things about her music and that’s how it remains since her crowd was at full capacity. Those who bought venue tickets could waltz in, but some of those who paid up to $495 for a CMJ Badge were relegated to a line that barely moved (luckily I received my badge for free).

After an unsuccessful first-time CMJ experience, I decided to only see bands that I never knew existed by strolling in to random CMJ sponsored venues. Where better to do this than the Lower East Side? Starting at Pianos I couldn’t even take one step in as the bouncer immediately held his hand up to apologize and tell me he couldn’t allow anyone in. The reason? “We’re at full capacity, sorry.”

0-for-2.

Slightly discouraged, I decided to try the Living Room right next door to Pianos. SUCCESS! Then again, I could barely make my way through the bar and in to the back room where Ane Brun, another artist hailing from Sweden, was playing a set. Even though I could barely see her perform, hearing her voice was enough to realize why very few had the ability to break the spell to take a sip from their drink.

Deciding to be adventurous, I left the Living Room in search of another show. What I found was a cake shop next door known as… Cake Shop. The main floor is said name of the place but several feet below consists of a small bar with an even smaller stage. Approaching the stage were four grown men, but you would never guess that they call themselves Women. Although the guitarist announced this show as their 4th in the Cake Shop basement in the past 3 days, Women played with enough energy to get the ladies in the crowd up and dancing.

The CMJ adventures continued another day… or so I thought.

I could count the number of people in Bulgarian bar Mehanata with my two hands. A waitress approached and didn’t even realize that her place of work was a CMJ location; the map given with my CMJ badge has Mehanata listed as a venue but is nowhere to be found on their site. Despite the confusion, Accordion Death Squad did what they do best… rock out on the accordion. The lack of audience also missed out on dots of red and green lights splattering the entire place as Mehanata made it feel a lot like an early Christmas.

After Accordion Death Squad did their best to keep the small crowd alive, I went up to Pianos… Only to find it at full capacity again! What the hell did I have to do to get in this place? Maybe if I played in a band…

Anyway, Fat Baby sounded like a promising bar so I made the venture further east into the LES. Fat Baby’s main floor blasted dance music from its speakers with no one dancing; probably because no one was there. Through the back though is a staircase that leads down to a dimly lit bar with a stage at the end, A band that looked and sounded a little too similar to Paramore just finished their set while the crowd shuffled their feet away from the stage towards the bar. The next act may have been the most interesting of them all though…

Claiming that his band couldn’t make it down for the show, a man grabbed a guitar and started playing in the style of the Violent Femmes. Cracking his voice every opportunity he could get, this band-mate turned solo act drove much of the crowd to the upstairs lounge. The boiling point for the audience came when the man grabbed a few drums and started banging and yelling relentlessly into the microphone. Entertaining I thought, but not quite the dance rock music that most of the audience seemed to crave.

The awkward stage presence of this one-man band drove me to Rehab in the East Village. Organic vegan bars were being given away for free and I finally realized what chalk coated in sugar tastes like. To cleanse my senses I turned to Sky Cries Mary who graced the stage with two lead singers, one of which sounded exactly like Billy Corgan minus the bald, pale head. Either way, Sky Cries Mary filled the air with melodic vocals swaying through a middle-aged crowd. During one song, the Billy Corgan sound-a-like sang into a telephone with the effect that someone on the other end was listening. Brilliant or pretentious I wasn’t sure, but most of the audience seemed to go along with it.

Come Saturday night… the CMJ Marathon was complete. Was it coincidence that my first experience playing in a band came in my living room while my first indie music event occurred in the Living Room…? I think not. Time to start a new band. It’s fate.