Music: Four days at CMJ: Living off the rock

Every October, thousands of unsigned and indie artists descend on Manhattan for the four-day extravaganza known as CMJ's New Music Marathon. Organized by the CMJ Network, also responsible for CMJ New Music Monthly and CMJ New Music Report, the show is a must see for music-industry insiders and fans alike. Our own Macy Parker and Andy Kay were there to witness the insanity first-hand.

Wednesday--As we walked into the opening night party at Webster Hall, we immediately caught the ferocity of the Fever. Zoom-paced new wave exploded through the room with just a hint of Misfits-style vocals. While the next act, British indie rockers, Black Box Recorder, delivered stale beats, underdeveloped riffs and simple lyrics, Sarah Nixey's dominatrix-in-a-suit seductiveness kept us riveted throughout the set. VHS Or Beta finished up the show with their inventive, danceable music replete with funky guitar licks and synthesizer-created beats. After power walking across town, we caught the Secret Machines' show at the Coral Room. The combination of Pink Floyd and Flaming Lips emanating from the stage quickly sent us into a psychedelic groove, despite the drummer's sledgehammer-like beats. After being thwarted by an irate bouncer in our attempt to see the improv house duo the New Deal, we said farewell to the city for the night.

Thursday--After witnessing the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players' goofy musical narrative based on slides found at yard sales across the country, the novelty continued on into the night as we stopped over at the Knitting Factory to see Dick Clark announce the three finalists for the New Music Award. Competing for a shot at performing onstage at this year's American Music Awards, the Bomb Squad easily blew their mediocre competitors off the stage with their sophisticated, groovy funk. After subjecting ourselves to the depressed hardcore of the Bronx at the still venerable CBGB and experiencing Adam Green's beautiful ballad about Jessica Simpson and the Kills' mildly interesting hipster rock at the Bowery Ballroom, we headed home to rest up for day three.

Friday--Wanting to see if the Rapture was worth all the disco-punk hype, we showed up early at Roseland Ballroom Friday night only to realize that we were surrounded by seventeen-year-old boys who were all there for the Mars Volta's headlining act. After the Rapture managed to deliver a pretty-good set, we suffered through a frightful hour of mosh-pitting and vaguely Latin screaming from the Mars Volta. Though their short performance no doubt disappointed all those kids who showed up sporting Omar's afro, it left us time to make it to another show at the Bowery Ballroom. There, we were subjected to the inanity of Elefant, whose Interpol-sounding lead singer totally deserved whatever it was that someone in the crowd threw at him at the end of the set, and the rock, punk riffs of Radio 4, which actually moved the hipster crowd to dance.

Saturday--Thank God for Broken Social Scene! They were the best possible band one could see while hung over and badly bruised from Friday night's mosh pit. Regardless of the fact that they were playing in the middle of the day in a hotel ballroom, they were remarkable: forty minutes of tambourine shaking, trombone tooting, slow pop goodness. Saturday night, we had to bribe the girl at the door to let us into the sold-out Decembrists show at Luxx. At first, it seemed worth it, but then the disappointingly normal looking Colin Meloy's voice started cracking, and ennui ensued. No fireworks here, but Colin's still one of the best lyricists of all time, and anyone who can introduce a number with, "This is a song about a Turkish prostitute" can't be all that average.

And so, the days of free concerts at an end, we shuffled back to Brooklyn Heights with headaches, clutching too many CDs and one potentially valuable Indie Rock Trading Card! Sweet.