For those unfamiliar with what's happening here at the Deli, my associate Tascha and I have been charged with seeing 26 shows throughout the 5-day CMJ Marathon (26 miles = a marathon) and that's what these blog entries are about!

DAY ONE
The CMJ marathon has officially begun with Band 1 on my itinerary, The Black Hollies. Caught these guys on the "Day Stage" at Avery Fisher Hall in Lincoln Center, where I had to go to pick up my CMJ badge. For reasons unrelated to the band themselves, the spirit of Rob Reiner was definitely lurking somewhere in the room. That said, I enjoyed their set - which was delivered sans drummer - and would be interested in seeing them play as a full band. Their songs are highly stylized along the lines of the Zombies, Cream, and Jefferson Airplane. The venue was pretty weird and there was some sort of persisting technical snag with the bass, but I have the impression that these guys would be very good in a louder venue with a drummer. They play Friday at 11:30 at the Cakeshop.

I'll not delay even one more second in declaring, for all the world to hear, that O'Death seriously rules. I was expecting something more or less quaint and instead was met with some pretty dark and intense music, delivered with a violence of presence that was - call me a baby - even a bit scary. I think my favorite part of the show would have to be the drummer, whose use of abrupt changes in tempo for emotional effect was spot on. He played a huge snare drum like those used in marching bands, which lent the beat a certain fatness. He also incorporated into the beats these extremely shrill screams (think James Brown in the opening 2 seconds of "Get Up Offa That Thing”) - in short, fuckin' awesome. Every member of the band had great stage presence. The lead singer reminded me immediately of Alec Ounsworth, but proved to be more expressive and quite a bit more versatile in his voice. What amazes me most about O'Death is that seemingly every element of the music is itself pretty traditional or derivative, but as a whole it's one of the most original things I've heard in a while. They play the Delancey on Friday at 10.

After work I headed to the Slipper Room, where I learned that my *CMJ Badge* was worth about as much as a bucket of warm piss. No matter that it was billed a "CMJ Showcase" - I had to pay $8 just like everyone else. Still, call me a pushover, but I was willing to justify paying because I've been meaning to see A Place to Bury Strangers for quite some time anyway.

I expected to hear, above all, cool guitar sounds, and I most certainly did. (Singer/ guitarist Oliver Ackermann designs and builds his own pedals and sells them through his company, Death By Audio.) It took me a while to get into the music, partly because the venue was ludicrously small for a band with such a big sound as APTBS. But after a while I started to feel mesmerized by their droning sound, and the end of their set built to a very engaging climax. I will say that I found surprising the gulf between the attention given to the guitar sound and the attention given to the vocal sound. The original guitar signal itself was indiscernible beneath the rich 8-fold layering of effects, but the vocals were totally untouched. This was slightly reminiscent of a slice of pizza in which the cheese sort of floats loosely atop a sea of tomato sauce, rather than the two ingredients fully integrating as they should. By the way, the pizza across the street from the Slipper Room (Orchard and Stanton) is very good.

I had intended to catch two other bands in Manhattan last night, but due to some scheduling confusion, I realized that it wasn't going to work. So I made way to Brooklyn to catch The Citizens at Magnetic Fields, though not before stopping off for a lamb shwarma. Ever since reviewing their album (scroll down for the review) I've been curious to check them out. The band was fairly tight and I was impressed by Mark Lesseraux's vocal talent. The crowd seemed to be very into the show. The band had great control of their sound, and it was nice to hear songs off the album delivered with the same complexity as the recordings.

So, with 9 down and 17 to go, I'll be in Brooklyn tonight checking out several bands at Trash and Northsix. Until tomorrow, readers, adieu

DAY THREE
Yesterday was the day that running this CMJ marathon officially started to get old. Mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted, I made my way to Trash to hear band 10 of 26, the great Susu.


One of the great things about Susu is that they're absolutely riveting to watch, because each of the three members has a compelling stage presence. Bassist Mike Gabry's creepy leer and unpredictable movements are complemented by guitarist Andrea Havis's unrestrained shrieks and raw animal energy. They also manage to steer clear entirely of jumping around and all the cheesy grandstanding that many other heavy bands tend to involve in their shows. I had not seen Susu in several months, and this time they had a new drummer, Oliver Rivera-Drew (not pictured). Oliver's drumming was extraordinary. He did a lot of technically dazzling stuff involving complicated cross-sticking and odd syncopations. He also played unbelievably fast. His intensity and serious manner took the show to another level and, with some great new material reflecting the evolution of their sound, this was probably the best that I've heard Susu, except perhaps for Joe's Pub, where the sound was awesome, whereas this was Trash, where the sound was Shit.


After Susu was Proton Proton, whom I'd never seen. When they first started, the level of insanity taking place onstage was almost too much for me to handle. My mind simply flashed "DOES NOT COMPUTE." After about 4 songs, something clicked and I realized, wait a minute, this is fucking awesome, and when the set ended I wanted more. My initial confusion, I think, stemmed from the fact that the singer's stage antics are kind of the behavioral analogue of Devendra Banhart's singing - strange to the point of uncomfortable, even unappealing, but deeply compelling at the same time. Once I became aware of this fact, I was liberated to simply observe what he was doing - odd facial expressions, spasmic movements, awkward lyrics awkwardly up-front - and realized that I couldn't get enough of it. The singer, who reminded me more than a little of Chris Cornell, really delivered a brilliant performance and had exceptional command of the stage. Their show strikes just the right balance between planned and spontaneous. I will definitely be checking them out again.

During Proton Proton's set, I began to have the alarming experience of hot-and-cold flashes running up and down my body as I tried to stay focused on the music. Sadly for me, relief proved elusive as I literally ran/jogged from Trash to Northsix in order to make it to the Vague Angels' 9:00 show.

Upon arrival at Northsix, I learned (a pattern emerges) that the Vague Angels wouldn't be on for another 2 hours. After suppressing tears of desperation, I watched Luke Temple, whom I'm pleased to report was excellent.


Disclaimer: I have not, for several years, had much stomach for acoustic music, but I feel capable of recognizing quality when I hear it. Luke Temple plays deeply personal songs that are difficult to categorize. I found the whole thing very reminiscent of Hank Williams, in spirit, but he surprised me with some decidedly modern elements (synth, etc.). He has some great recordings on myspace that fans of Sufjan Stevens would be very into. The crowd was very enthusiastic. The last song he played was just him on acoustic guitar, and that's where his abilities showed the most.


I took a breather until it was time for the Vague Angels. Fronted by Chris Leo, the Vague Angels create harmonically rich, droning textures that basically serve as a backdrop for the vocals, which are the main focus. The lyrics feature a lot of pretty heady stuff, as well as more immediate, vivid poetic images. Chris Leo has the ability to take an everyday or mundane lyric (like "The dust covered everything") and imbue it with a feeling of deep significance, to great effect. I believe that Chris Leo and the Vague Angels often receive comparisons to Lou Reed. I see some lyrical affinity, but what really comes to my mind for conveying what they're doing is Serge Gainsbourg's "Bonnie and Clyde" - a kind of lush, repeating harmonic texture with more or less spoken lyrics and only the suggestion of a verse/chorus/bridge structure.

By the time the Vague Angels were through, I had the feeling that my feet had been subjected to some sort of medieval torture. It is in that context that I must extend sincere apologies to Aloke, whose sets I intended to see but did not. With 13 bands down and 13 to go, today and tomorrow I'll be playing catch up. I plan on getting an early start today to see 7 or even 8 bands, and I can't wait.

DAY FOUR
For those who haven't been following things around here in recent days, my associate Tascha and I are on a mission to each see 26 shows during the 5 days of CMJ.


Feeling ambitious, renewed by quite a decent night's sleep, I got an early start and headed to the Annex to catch Hopewell at 4:00. Hopewell's music is not necessarily breaking new musical ground, but as a live band, they are terrific. They play as a perfectly cohesive unit, with great stage energy and confidence. I enjoyed the singer's expressive vocal style, which sort of leaps in and out of falsetto. The highlight of the show had to be the last number, a more orchestrated, epic number that called to mind “All Things Must Pass” (heavy use of that sweet I/Vmin change that also features in “Strawberry Fields Forever”). The band's pacing was impeccable as they grew to a most satisfying climax.


Next up was The Silent League. The Sparks that I had by now guzzled had put me in a strange enough state that when I looked onstage, I thought I might be experiencing double vision. The band comprised nothing short of 8 musicians, which I shall now enumerate: 1 drummer, 1 guitarist, 1 bassist, a trumpet, a violin, a saxophone, and 2 keyboards. If I may venture a take on this, I think it's important, particularly at the level of playing small venues with limited sound systems, to avoid overcrowding the sonic space. I believe the idea here was to create a kind of wall of sound, but unless your sound man happens to be Phil Spector, a certain application of Occam's razor might be in order. That said, the Silent League write good songs, and their rich instrumentation allowed them to create some very nice textures. I would say their set bore the general emotional timbre of Ziggy Stardust's “Rock and Roll Suicide.” The crowd was receptive and I think that with slightly stripped down arrangements, it could be very good.


I then made a fast one for Sin-e, where Robbers on High Street were playing. Sin-e was packed, despite the early hour, and from the profusion of CMJ badges I deemed there to be lots of “industry people” in the room. I'm not really sure what to say beyond that they rocked. They were definitely a good, tight rock band. But perhaps after seeing 15 bands in the last 3 days, I was desensitized enough to need something else.


It was then time for band 17 on my itinerary, Alex Delivery. Now, this is going to sound like too strong a statement to be true, but I think this is the most original still-obscure band playing in New York. They combine heavy use of MIDI and samples with very rudimentary elements like woodblock and metal bowls. This drastic contraposition of high- and low-tech has always made me think of Frank Herbert's Dune (where they've mastered interstellar travel but fighting is done with knives), and strangely seems much more futuristic than an all-electronic band. The textures that they create are extraordinarily rich, and they usually hold these for incredibly long periods. As a result of such repetition, the slightest change seems like a major event – they load your ears like springs and then when you're finally released, it's catharsis. This band is frightfully underrecognized and I urge people to check them out.


Several bands on my itinerary did not work out, so I wound up at Pianos watching Rahim. Rahim plays great songs with stripped down arrangements. There's something vaguely primitive about their music; I think the drumming in particular is very immediate and infectious. I also highly approve of the drummer's use of a whistle. The Rahim guys are very unassuming and play with much restraint. It was a good show. Afterward, I intended to see Pela and Dirty on Purpose, but the show was sold out, as many shows in the neighborhood were at that point in the night. There was nothing to be done but to call it quits for the day. More tomorrow.

DAY FIVE
CMJ has drawn to its inevitable close, and I say with great shame that I failed in my task of seeing 26 New York bands this week. The reason I failed is that I was under the distinct impression that the Tokyo Police Club were from New York, but learned between sips of celebratory bourbon circa 4:00am Sunday morning that they're from Toronto. Tarnation!

My Saturday began in the early afternoon at the Brooklynvegan showcase at the Annex. I saw three bands, including the aforementioned, none of whom were from New York . Next up were the Big Sleep, whom I had missed the night before and wanted to see but I would scarcely have been more inclined to stay had the Beatles themselves been on the bill. The venue was alarmingly crowded, they were out of Sparks , and I kept getting shoved from all directions.

I made for Pianos, where Other Passengers - band #19 - were playing an early show. The band blew me away. I've seen them several times before, but they've added a guitarist who contributed much to filling out the sound and liberating Billy Jones to focus more on the singing than before. Billy has a genuinely great voice and his manner of trembling uncontrollably and staring bug-eyed into the audience is highly engaging.

I then dropped into Fontana's to see Superfortress, who play frantic and dancy electro-punk with heavy reliance on an old sequencer that runs on floppy disks. The lead singer, who goes simply by Nao, held down the fort with great stage presence featuring a lot of ticking nervously and idiosyncratic banter in between songs. I saw a strong lyrical affinity with the Talking Heads' first album; and though lyrics in this vein often run the risk of being unappealing, Superfortress pulls it off quite well. Check out their song, "Missing People."

The next band was Spielerfrau, whom the CMJ people had placed on a terribly incongruous lineup at Crash Mansion (a venue I can't begin to figure out). In any case, the band were clearly tuned into the tragicomic nature of the show, singer Michael Idov very prominently wearing not only his CMJ badge, but various other festival-badge-looking things around his neck. Venue notwithstanding, Spielerfrau delivered a very satisfying show. Idov is a charismatic if slightly antagonistic frontman, gesticulating wildly and physically directing breaks in the songs like a kind of malaised Wilson Pickett. I also recommend checking out their recordings. Spielerfrau's songs are highly structured and well paced, with clear and memorable melodies providing a vehicle for Idov's excellent lyrics. Check them out Saturday at Rockwood Music Hall .

Arriving at the Delancey just in time for the 22nd band on my itinerary, I had come to see Bravo Silva half-expecting them to have been replaced by another band (Bravo Silva recently disbanded but I saw their name on the bill). The full band indeed wasn't playing. Instead, Henry Gummer, who was one of Bravo Silva's frontmen, sang a variety of covers, including a stirring rendition of Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come" during which I thought he actually might cry. Henry has a great voice and this was a nice change from all the rock music I had heard in recent days.

I then dropped into Tonic to watch VietNam. I went to this show knowing nothing about the band except for their name, which had led me to expect a group of 1970s-looking bearded dudes with long hair playing bluesy rock with John Fogertyesque vocals - in short, pretty much what the band was serving up.

I was planning to return to the Delancey to see Earl Greyhound, but I'd been curious to see the Nervous Cabaret, who don't play in the city that often despite being based in Brooklyn . I found that the show had a great deal of "wow" factor – the band looked pretty cool, they played some very raucous and genre-bending music, and the singer's vocal style (sort of Tom Waits meets Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan) was rather original. To be honest, I had hoped for something a little bit more nuanced, but I should also admit that my patience was wearing frightfully thin this late in the game.

Finally, I wound up back at the Delancey to watch Soft, who went on around 1:00. I'm really glad that my CMJ marathon ended with this band. I've seen Soft before, but they have now turned into one of the tightest bands around. Besides their excellent songwriting, one of the things that impress me about them is that they use a heavy amount of reverb and delay in the guitars, but they control it so well that they get a big sound without it being a muddy mess. There are absolutely no stray notes, and the restraint of the drums and bass leave a lot of room for all the other stuff going on.

Thus ended my CMJ Marathon 2006. Technically I only watched 25 shows (in their entirety) by New York City bands, but all in all I probably caught about 30 acts so if any fecal-faced wiseacre should complain that I didn't do my job he can shove it where the sun don't shine. - Handlebar Jack