NEW YORK CITY, NY — "Did we see Crystal Antlers or Crystal Stilts?" That was the (overheard) question at the annual College Music Journal (CMJ) Music Marathon, where five days into the free-for-all club crawl, bands all start to look and sound the same even when they actually don't. (The confusion was only compounded by the presence of Toronto electro-punks Crystal Castles, though Crystal Gayle was conspicuous in her absence.)
Once a must-do, career-making event for bands rising up through the music indie-stry, CMJ's stature has waned in recent years compared to Austin's ever-expanding South by Southwest (SXSW) festival, which can boast more marquee names, better weather and a far less sprawling spread of venues. But then, this year's festival distinguished itself by putting the "college" back into the CMJ: conference headquarters — traditionally located in tony uptown venues like the Lincoln Center and Hilton — were based out of NYU's Kimball Center student hub, and most of the thousand-odd acts on display are still operating at the campus-radio/blog-buzz level.
How to translate that buzz into a lucrative career was a recurring topic at this year's conference panels. At last Thursday's "Current Independent Culture Through the Eyes of Indie Pioneers" discussion, guest speaker Walter Schreifels (of post-hardcore acts Quicksand and Rival Schools) admitted that he envied the low-overhead/high-paycheque lifestyle of the touring DJ, lamenting that the best an indie-rock lifer like him could hope for in this day and age was getting a song in an iPod commercial.
Just a few hours later, Schriefels' theory played out at Fader magazine's makeshift daytime performance/gallery space (dubbed "The Fort") on The Bowery, where the most sardined crowd I experienced all weekend turned out for the most recent Apple-ad beneficiaries, Chairlift. The Brooklyn electro-popsters held the room even after the mid-set airing of jingle-du-jour "Bruises," though at times you weren't sure if you were watching a performance or a paparazzi training session, given the active photo pit monopolizing the front of the stage.
The brisk crowds at the Fader Fort afternoon concert series (not part of CMJ proper but featuring many of its participants) exemplified the sort of logic that few in the music business are eager to admit: i.e., the music industry is in great shape, provided that no one has to pay for anything. While the ubiquitous Levis and Southern Comfort logos proved the old economics adage that there's no such thing as a free all-day indie-rock showcase, these sorts of rogue events proved to be a better way to experience CMJ than the festival itself.
Over four days, Fader Fort attendees (who gained entry with a simple online RSVP) were treated to energetic sets from Toronto's Sebastian Grainger & the Mountains, thundering Atlanta shoegaze trio All the Saints (yes, with a "the") and the aforementioned Crystal Antlers, a multi-racial, bongo-furious California quintet ably picking up the caterwauling psych-rock legacy of the late, lamented Comets on Fire. Over in Williamsburg, Rhapsody hosted a great Thursday night freebie with Memphis mofo Jay Reatard (now sporting an acoustic guitar that was just as loud as his trusty flying V), Stonesy Seattle duo The Dutchess & the Duke, a rare stateside showing from The King Khan & BBQ Show and an incendiary career spanning set from the still-raging Mission of Burma. (Also representing admirably for the post punk geezer set: late-'70s UK art-pop weirdos The Homosexuals, who were recently revived by frontman Bruno Wizard with younger backing players, and put in a riotous, audience-baiting show last Tuesday at a Pianos after-party.)
In contrast to these free thrills, those attendees who forked out $500 for an official festival badge in the hopes of catching buzz acts like Swedish siren Lykke Li were forced to wait in line outside the Bowery Ballroom, even as opener Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson was playing to a half-full room. Unlike at SXSW, which gives priority entry to those customers who help bankroll the festival, CMJ venues are free to set their own door policy, which means most clubs are more inevitably more interested in accommodating walk-up ticket buyers than festival registrants, who are let in whenever the bouncers feel like it. In other words: the very pass designed to make it easier to gain access to festival showcases, in some cases, makes it more difficult to do so, while artists hoping to play for a room full of industry onlookers get the short shrift.
Whether at conference panels or in casual chit-chat with label publicists, the over-arching message at this year's CMJ was that the music industry needs to develop new business models to best serve the needs of artists and customers alike. But if the CMJ Music Marathon is meant to be something more substantial than just another noisy weekend in New York City, the festival might want to start heeding its own advice.