| AXIS|OF|LIVE Does CMJ 2007 |
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| Written by Nicole Steinberg | |
| Sunday, 25 November 2007 | |
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Now, I know what you're all thinking. CMJ was eons ago, it's old news! Well, I apologize for being so tardy with my review of the shows I saw. The thing is, my camera broke right in the middle of the festivities and I was hoping to eventually get it fixed so I could write my review alongside all of the tasty photographs I took. No such luck, though; after two trips to the service center, the camera still doesn't work, so here I am, writing my review without the visual evidence. I hope you all don't mind. To soothe you savage beasts, I've got three days worth of fun after the jump: M.I.A. at Terminal 5, the BrooklynVegan Friday day show at R Bar, Sahara Hotnights, The Maccabees and Sons and Daughters at Bowery Ballroom, Foals at Pianos and Spoon at Roseland Ballroom! Phew, I'm tired just thinking about it. On Thursday, I was feeling a little under the weather, just getting over a cold. As I walked into the brand new Terminal 5, so new that it still reeked of fresh paint, I checked out the already massive crowd and wondered if I'd be able to survive the evening. Terminal 5 is a huge place, probably better suited to be a dance hall than a concert venue, located aaaaall the way on the West side of Manhattan, practically in the Hudson. It was a little jarring to see so many different types of hipsters and music lovers gathered in such a bizarre locale: ravers, old school hip-hoppers, geeks, ballers, guys with feathers in their hair, etc. You name the indie sect and trust me, there were at least ten people in attendance representing. We made the climb up to the top floor and sat down on one of the many cushy new sofas, soon likely to be littered with stains and revelry-induced goo. Around 9:30, we figured the seemingly never-ending DJ set would end soon, so we made our way downstairs. The thing is, we would have stayed on the top floor, but here's the problem with Terminal 5: if you don't get there early enough to snag one of the seats right against the balcony on the upper floor, you can't see a thing. And even on the main floor, there's no slope in the floor. Sooo... we couldn't see down there either. And it was crowded and stiflingly hot, thanks to the unseasonably warm late-October weather. Now, I'm still not sure what exactly happened before M.I.A. came out. (Don't stare directly into her myspace background; you might go blind.) As far as I know, there were some technical problems with the second act, who were supposed to perform right before her. To be truthful, the crowd was so restless that I can't imagine what would have happened if she came out any later than she did (around 10:45). During the technical problems, Afrikan Boy came out to try and placate the mob with chants and callbacks. They obliged him at first, before it became truly obvious that it was a stall tactic. As he encouraged the crowd to call out "M.I.A!" he was soon met with loud boos and jeers. You had to feel a little bad for the guy, but the crowd-baiting wasn't appreciated on my end, either. I was sweating and pressed against various strangers in compromising positions and didn't want to fucking chant. All's well that ends well, though. Maya came out and killed everyone with her awesomeness, apologizing for the technical difficulties and raging through a blistering set of old and new songs, blended with each other for a truly excellent aural experience. I was thrilled with "Paper Planes," "10 Dollar'" and the unexpected rendition of "Amazon." The visuals behind her were also fantastic as well. She's such a performer, out there in her sparkly outfit and having a great time with all of her friends. And she knows how to treat her audience well, too; she invited girls in the crowd to join her on stage during "Boyz" and didn't seem to mind when a horde of males ran up there as well. You could barely see her during that number, engulfed by a legion of scantily clad fans, getting their groove on and forming an undulating sea of neon and glitter. The best part of all was that the entire front end of the crowd went up, so we were able to dash to a much better standing spot. After that, I forgot about my illness and irritations and just went nuts with everyone else. Truly therapeutic. If only it weren't such a long trek back to the train station. On Friday, it was muggy and rainy. Not very fun weather as we headed over to R Bar on the Bowery for the BrooklynVegan day show. The sets were being held in a very red room with large black and white photos on the walls of punk rock icons and giant metal poles everywhere. We came in towards the end of Yeasayer's set, who commented that they'd never played in a room with so many stripper poles before. Shows how often I go out to strip clubs; I didn't even realize the poles were for naughty dancing. All I knew was that they were blocking the view! Tired and sticky from the muffin I'd bought from Whole Foods, we sat down and listened to Yeasayer's last few songs, not minding that we couldn't see ahead of all of the people standing in front of us. The music was relegated to background tunes as a result, but it wasn't any less pleasant. We did head up to the front for the next set, however: one of CMJ's most highly-touted acts, Black Kids, hailing from the Sunshine State. How cute are these guys? I'd been intrigued by their songs, an EP called Wizard of Ahhhs available for free on their myspace, and wanted to catch them in person. The room quickly became stuffed with others who had the same bright idea and we all watched as Black Kids put on a lively, entertaining, pure pop performance. The two girls, Dawn and Ali, flailed and danced behind their keyboards as vocalist Reggie Youngblood (gotta love it) chatted with the crowd. They played all of the songs from their EP and a few bonus songs, including one that they claimed they could never get quite right live, that it always got fucked up somehow. This time, it went off without a hitch; the curse was broken. My favorite part? Listening to the two guys beside me talk about how happy they were to be there so they could one day say, "I saw them live way back when." CMJ is not for the innocent, kids. After a lovely dinner, my friend and I headed to the Bowery Ballroom for one of those gigantic CMJ showcases that starts at 7 PM and ends somewhere around 2 AM. Last year I went to the Sub Pop showcase and stayed for the entire thing in an effort to see The Shins perform. Not only was I disappointed, but also rewarded with a terrible case of the flu the next morning. This year, we were a bit smarter; we got there late and left early, managing to catch three acts: Sahara Hotnights, The Maccabees and my great loves, Sons and Daughters. Sahara Hotnights were a very pleasant surprise. The 4-piece all girl, Swedish rock band has been on my radar for years but I never quite managed to get into them. They're quite good in person, and though they are all stunning, their musical prowess matches their looks nicely. I was especially impressed with their drummer, a wildcat with blond hair flying everywhere, winning the crowd over with her toughness and hot shit attitude. Loved her. Sadly, we were not as impressed with the next set by The Maccabees. Beloved by music blogs and critics all over, I was all set to thoroughly enjoy them but found that their schtick fell a bit flat. Pam and I were bewildered at the rousing response they received from the audience, filled with Brits who suddenly came pouring into the main room and crowded in front of the stage, throwing beer at the band to show their affection while shouting along and cheering wildly. For me, it just didn't fly: music that could be recognized as a small step above pop-punk, being played by a few guys with no personality, one with waaay too much personality who kept staring down the crowd with genuine Crazy Eyes (with a capital C and E) and a singer who didn't really seem to give a shit. Maybe I'm missing the point? Not to say that they were bad or that their music was wretched--and I haven't yet listened to their album, though I intend to. It simply left me curious. Are the Maccabees a truly great indie rock band as so many say, or Brighton's answer to Fall Out Boy? But oh, if only Sons and Daughters could have gotten a reception half as loud as The Maccabees did. Still thoroughly on top of their game, the quartet treated the crowd to a set of mostly new songs from their upcoming LP, This Gift. Maybe the new songs alienated the folks who wanted to hear older material, but there was nothing to complain about, as new songs such as "Rebel with the Ghost," "Goodbye Service" and "Chains" rocked, as well as new singles "Gilt Complex" and "Darling." Adele Bethel, wearing an extremely short and scandalous dress as per usual, stomped around the stage and flirted heavily with guitarist Scott Paterson, who looked hot as usual with his pompadour and excellent leather jacket. I felt like I was the only one dancing, sadly, which is much less than what this band deserves. I hope they get their due accolades in 2008, when This Gift hits stores. Then, wouldn't you know it, another night passed and it was Saturday! I hope you're still with me here, because I need to tell you about this amazing band called Foals. According to Wikipedia, their music combines dance-punk with "elements of techno and math rock." I admit, I'm a loser and don't know what the fuck "math rock" is supposed to be; I'm lucky I can recognize "art rock" when I hear it. But whatever it is, it sounds damn good here. My entire reason for rising before two on Saturday was to get my ass down to Pianos on the Lower East Side for another BrooklynVegan day show, just to see Foals perform (I was originally supposed to see them that night but sold that ticket so I could go to Spoon instead, which I'll tell you about in a second). Foals are a 5-piece band who do amazing things. I'm more excited about this band than any other band in the world right now. Sadly, I missed the first song of their set but managed to wedge my way into the ultra-crowded upstairs space and rock out properly. Surrounded by music lovers just waiting to be impressed, I danced to all the songs I knew and loved, such as "Balloons," "Two Step Twice" and "Hummer," utterly pleased by the head-bopping all around me. At CMJ, head-bopping is a good sign. And you could tell from the applause at the end of the energetic, slightly schizophrenic set, that the boys had done good; Foals won 'em over and I was ever so excited as I promptly left and headed uptown to kill time before my trek to Roseland. I'll be honest with you, dudes: I haaaate Roseland Ballroom. Super hate. It is a gigantic space with very little visibility, reserved for bands who have just made the leap from life on the fringe to the big time spotlight. Bands I've seen there include Jimmy Eat World, Franz Ferdinand and Goldfrapp, to name a few--all shows held at the moment the artists reached the cusp of real fame. As a result, Roseland is always filled with musical opportunists, anxious to hear that one song they always play on the radio or that's in that Target commercial they always show during primetime. The audience can usually be described in a single word: douchey. Spoon is currently enjoying that coveted identity as a band whose star is on the rise, especially that of its lead singer, adorably rumpled, scratchy-voiced Britt Daniels. As he and his band walked onto the Roseland stage after a mainly lackluster and uninspired set by opening band The Ponys, the applause was thunderous. We had a nice spot close to the front and many people around me took photos of the venue behind us, awed by the sheer number of people in attendance for what Britt claimed was Spoon's biggest headlining show ever. And just how long had these guys had that moment coming to them? Spoon is a rare indie rock band that puts out consistently great albums, never losing sight of what makes them original and worthwhile. Just as Spoon fits the profile of the typical Roseland band, the crowd fit the usual formula as well, mainly new fans who cheered loudest for songs off their latest album, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. But amazingly, they weren't douchey this time! Or, well... no one extremely close to me was douchey. There was a tangible sense of joy in the room as they played classic songs like "Jonathan Fisk" and "I Turn My Camera On," and new tunes, including "The Ghost of You Lingers" and "Black Like Me," both of which almost made me cry, damn you, Britt. I rushed right over to the merch stand when it was all said and done and bought a red Spoon totebag. It's already falling apart, but it was worth the ten bucks I paid for it. (It has velcro! Britt thinks of everything.) And it was certainly worth braving my least favorite New York City venue to see such a wonderful show. I could barely believe I'd had a good experience at Roseland. And during CMJ, no less! Life is full of surprises. So, there you have it, my complete 2007 CMJ experience. If you've read this far, you're a champ and I salute you. And I apologize once more for the lack of visuals. If Canon ever does fix or replace my camera, you'll be the first to see them. Right now, Adele Bethel is trapped on a memory card just waiting to show her sexy to the world. One day soon, Adele. One day soon. |
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