CMJ Festival, New York City, October 31–November 4, 2006

A bounty of talent, energy, and crowds come to the Big Apple for this annual fest

By Marisa Torrieri
Published: November 9th, 2006 | 12:19pm

With one song left to go, Jenny Hoyston had a choice to make.

Erase Errata's singer-guitarist-trumpeter broke a string. Twice. She had worked the hell out of the regular and spare guitars intended to get her through the set in front of a jam-packed crowd at the Maritime Hotel's Hiro Ballroom in Manhattan's Chelsea neighborhood.

Would she pop another string on, quickly tune up the axe, and jam out? Would she just call it a night? Would she ask to borrow Mary Timony's guitar?

Cheers escaped the crowd - as did offerings to tune the guitar, something along the lines of "play it anyway." And sure enough, as super bass player Ellie Erickson and drummer Bianca Sparta churned out a steady, funky riff, Ms. Hoyston transitioned right into an out-of-tune "Tax Dollar," singing and playing with familiar gusto, finishing off a riveting set.

Such highlights gave meaning to the often sonically overwhelming event known as the CMJ Music Marathon, a five-day festival of sorts that brought thousands of musicians and music industry pros together to play gigs, hobnob, break strings, and burn out from an exhausting lineup of back-to-back shows at more than two dozen clubs all over downtown Manhattan, October 31–November 4, 2006.

This year's marathon - a full day longer than last year's - showcased an unprecedented number of musicians at coveted nightspots like the Knitting Factory, the Living Room and Webster Hall, as well as hole-in-the-wall dives. Whatever the venue, the week brought a bounty of divine guitar solos, discordant noises, out-of-pitch singing, screaming, prancing, chanting, stomping, and beer guzzling to the Big Apple.

Fifteen Minutes of Fame - In Front of Fresh Eyes
For some performers, CMJ's just another pit stop on the road en route to another destination, something that's done out of routine to the delights of hundreds of musician peers wearing the obligatory laminated badges who turn into giddy fans.

For others, it's the first taste of mass exposure and mingling, a chance to play a small club in the Big Apple, attend panels, learn new promotion techniques, and become more acquainted with the music industry.

For the performer-musician who calls herself Bitch, a last-minute gig at Mo Pitkins meant the chance to play new songs in front of new fans.

"Usually I play for my fans - this is definitely an intellectual, smart crowd," Bitch said right after her performance. "I was expecting, like, a factory."

The singer made a pit stop on her national tour, wielding a fiddle, a tiny guitar, and a bass while lyrically diving into political rants about the war - inspiring hoots and loud claps in the intimate venue.

For other musical acts, it was a chance for a comeback in a new incarnation.

Deerhoof, for example, played as a three-piece minus Chris Cooper (who left to play with the Curtains). But the set - punctuated by Satomi Matsuzaki's trademark cutesy vocals and vogue moves made heavy by earsplitting drum pounds and textured guitar patterns - packed the same punch.

Man in Gray, an '80s-loving, five-piece rocknroll band (two guitars, one bass, drums, and lots of pedals) fronted by manic, Bikini Kill–inspired singer-screamer Tina DaCosta, loved performing for the second year in a row - but didn't play the show expecting huge major exposure.

"I think going on tour last March really helped us," DaCosta said in an interview after the band's Wednesday night performance in the Knitting Factory's Old Office - the smallest of three rooms within the club. "That made us realize New York is not the 'be all, end all.'"

Seeking Out Fans, Talent, Ideas, and Inspiration
Perhaps because it's so much harder to get noticed among the masses than in years past, a number of acts donned creative getups and brought homemade instruments - emanating unusual sounds from less traditional musical props. Laptops, synthesizers, and more obscure equipment and props decorated many of the stages.

Lexie Mountain, front woman of collective-band Lexie Mountain Boys, road-tripped from Baltimore to perform 15 minutes of cacophonous soundscapes created by low moans, a vocal effects processor, three recorders, two tape decks - and her friend Nate.

A small crowd gathered to hear her continuous song, reflective of the self-described "weird" style she likes to feature back home at the Talking Head Club, where she books shows for a living.

"I'm glad I did it - I love the Cakeshop," said Lexie, after finishing her 8 p.m. opening set, which was followed by fellow Baltimore noise-and-laptop rock band WZT Hearts. "But because it's such a huge deal, it's a little overwhelming."

And it's that hugeness that makes it impossible to take everything in.

"Festivals in general are a good idea," Man in Gray's DaCosta agreed. "But the smaller festivals are better. Those are the places where you get more personalized attention."

Attendees said hearing new, interesting types of crossover music inspired them.

"I've been listening, watching people," said Adam Holofcener, who attended CMJ to hear potential bands to book at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he attends college.

But even though he enjoyed seeing innovative bands like the Knife and Deerhoof perform, Holofcener said the festival might be a little bit too big for the smaller acts struggling for attention. "I think it's getting harder to get noticed because there are so many shows. For smaller bands, it costs money for them to get up here and the benefits are pretty much nothing."

Photography by Amber Campion

Marisa is freelance writer and musician who lives in Brooklyn, N.Y. Follow her adventures at lassieslair.com