redirected

The next day at Webster Hall, we got entropic NYC synth/drum duo Shy Child, whose opener The Noise Won t Stop continued the Apples rattle and late-1960s racket-- albeit well aware of the sad fact that electroclash did exist a few years ago in Williamsburg. Was I the only one who heard some Rapture vocalisms from singing keyboardist Pete Cafarella? Quick fact: He s also in Supersystem.

Whatever-- the people wanted disco. Brighter spotlights and a crowd s collectively bigger smiles welcomed a cowbell s entrance, while the rat-a-tat/whirl-whirl formula grew pretty standardized until a guest saxophonist appeared from the shadows. At one point Cafarella jokingly announced the show as a dinner set -- and that he and his drummer compatriot planned to get dinner afterwards.

If that s really the case, it s too damn bad because then they missed an absolutely brilliant effort by my favorite NYC crew not named Excepter. What can I say? I ve always loved Gang Gang Dance s ability to create real-time collage-- those celebratory switches from a split kaleidoscope soundtracked by Punjabi MC to blood-soaked terror.

But hell, when did Liz Bougatsos become the city s most captivating front woman? We re talking serious avant-diva action! Injecting some vibrancy into Webster Hall s vast air, she donned a Ghostface Killah t-shirt as dress (fashionable torn shoulder showing), strange weight-lifter pajama pants, and boots.

The quartet opened on an Enya atmospheric tip before digging into s refracted, cat-and-mouse punk-dub: A slithery beast of fainting steam, tumbling calypso, wicked Bj rkian balladeering, slinky Greek musicals, and Hot 97 (Brian DeGraw = Timbaland). On a night that felt like 40 degrees, Montreal s Malajube brought the hot rock. The new album, , is a sweet pop trill; live, I heard Drive Like Jehu (no kidding) tucked inside the fair-trade vocals.

You can tell they come from the north: Malajube have the thickest heads of hair ever, the kind where faux hawks occur unintentionally. The five Canadians were wearing a palette of t-shirts, bouncing and sweating through Le Crabe et al for the benefit of [our] ears while I drank Blue Moons, wondered about the connection between Quebec and keyboards, and realized the especially funny keyboardist/guitarist (pretending to use his guitar as a hammer, etc.) reminded me of the guy on SNL who plays the Falconer.

Befitting the overall Sassy vibe, girls to my right squealed when the set reached a foaming finale. The last band I saw at the Mercury Lounge who brought the pop so mightily were Malajube s neighbors, Sunset Rubdown. Wizardzz [Pussycat Lounge; 1 a.

m., or so..

.] I had every intention of catching Blue Cheer at the Knitting Factory-- my second reunion show in as many nights, god help me-- but the Load/Cock Rock Disco showcase was, as I should ve suspected, running behind schedule. Seriously, noise rockers are the biggest procrastinators.

But, wanting to check out Brian Gibson s other non-Lighting Bolt band, I opted to accept the fluctuating schedule and overlong laptop drum-n-mace and bask in Wizardzz s glow. The Pussycat s the ideal noise-show hovel: The second floor of a strip joint, it s outfitted with dirty carpet, a catwalk (perfect for laptops!), a lap dance couch (perfect for laptops!

), stars on the walls, a Smog chandelier, black light, mirrors...

felt like I was in the church of Quintron. Most of the bands played too long, but when Wizardzz-- Gibson and Bug Sized Mind s Rich Porter-- started smoking immediately following Welcome to the TerrorDome , they kicked it all professional-like in their silky-ass outfits, never speaking to the audience, just getting down to shredding. Hidden City of Taurmond , had hints of this sort of thing, so I was pleased to witness them nailing that swampy, psyched Ornette Coleman dervish, especially in a stripper funhouse of color.

While I was nodding my head, thinking of , and trying to figure out Porter s pedal situation, they ended in mid-stride, before anyone expected it. Heading down the stairs and onto the street (where a bunch of guys in suits milled about, though it was close to 2 a.m.

), I suddenly felt revitalized, liked I could watch noise nonstop for another ten hours. Posted by Brandon Stosuy and Casey McKinney in festival, photos on Fri: 11-03-06: 11:30 AM CST | Digg this article | Add to del.icio.

us | Permalink My second CMJ day began at the Kill Rock Stars/5RC party at Mo Pitkin s, with a performance by the astonishing Marnie Stern. One of KRS newest signings, Stern looks like Kirsten Dunst and shreds like Mick Barr. But unlike Barr and so many other guitar virtuoso dudes, Stern sings while she manhandles her ax, cooing about glass slippers and diamonds as her nimble fingers fly across the fretboard.

In Advance of the Broken Arm , produced by Hella s Zach Hill and due out January 23. Her brief solo set was a revelation. No such revelations were to be had during Loney, Dear s performance opening Sub Pop s CMJ extravaganza at the Bowery Ballroom.

The Swedish group, centered around Emil Svan ngen s tender indie pop songs, were perfectly competent, but lacked any sort of magic. Svan ngen stood stock still, staring at a fixed point out in space in front of him, his expressionless face retaining the same look throughout the set. When he told the crowd he was happy to be there, I didn t believe him.

Given that Oxford Collapse s Michael Pace is the singer/guitarist in a power trio that happens to be signed to Sub Pop, I gotta hand it to him for having the balls to wear a plaid button-down shirt to his label s showcase. Not that anyone would ever confuse Pace with Kurt Cobain--in addition to his brown curly hair, thick moustache, and goatee, Pace dedicated a song to Pat O Brien and joked about receiving a neck massage before the show to relieve his symptoms of metal neck (aka headbanging too hard). Oxford Collapse s focused, intense performance, which included several standouts from their new album Remember the Night Parties , highlighted how much Oxford Collapse are basically an early-90s emo band (see: Cap n Jazz).

Brazilian party-starters CSS set was far less wild than their triumph at the Pitchfork Music Festival this summer, but just as fun. Singer Lovefoxxx, wearing a vintage Janet Jackson t-shirt and leopard-print/rainbow striped leggings, only crowd-surfed once, instead concentrating on aerobic dance moves and broken-English introductions to the electro-punk tunes of their debut album ( this song is tough like a brick , she said before the band launched into Art Bitch .) After taking a break during the Elected s time on stage, I was rested up for the Thermals.

The Portland pop-punk trio, augmented by second guitarist Joel Burrows, blazed through the most electrifying set I ve ever seen them play, making up for various technical snafus with atomic amounts of energy. Bassist Kathy Foster bounced around the stage in a riot grrrl-era dress, while singer/guitarist Hutch Harris took advantage of Burrows to unleash his inner showman, gesticulating wildly and sweating up a storm. Songs like Here s Your Future , A Pillar of Salt , and St.

Rosa and the Swallows from their latest album, , as well as old favorites like No Culture Icons and It s Trivia , somehow managed to sound even pumped than they do on record. Coming off the high of the Thermals, headliners the Shins were quite underwhelming. (Sorry, I skipped the Album Leaf, who were on in between the two.

A girl needs a few breaks during eight hours at the Bowery Ballroom!) Keyboardist/bassist Marty Crandall was his usual prankster self, humping his keyboard tower and thanking everyone for coming to his band s leak release party ( clap if you downloaded it while you were looking at boobs! ), but the rest of the band hardly matched his entertaining presence.

Lead singer/guitarist James Mercer looked perpetually frightened, his eyes darting back and forth like a trapped animal as he sang classics like New Slang , Caring Is Creepy , and So Says I , and new tunes like Phantom Limb and Australia . The music was pretty, but far from-- argh-- life-changing. Posted by Amy Phillips and William Kirk in festival, photos on Fri: 11-03-06: 11:00 AM CST | Digg this article | Add to del.

icio.us | Permalink festival, photos on Fri: 11-03-06: 10:30 AM CST | Digg this article | Add to del.icio.

us | Permalink festival, photos on Fri: 11-03-06: 09:45 AM CST | Digg this article | Add to del.icio.us | Permalink and playing three sold-out shows together to commemorate the closing of CBGB, D.

C. The next day at Webster Hall, we got entropic NYC synth/drum duo Shy Child, whose opener The Noise Won t Stop continued the Apples rattle and late-1960s racket-- albeit well aware of the sad fact that electroclash did exist a few years ago in Williamsburg.