Psychedelic Superstar @ CMJ — DJ Josh Wink

On the Road Again
Live Reviews:

CMJ Music Marathon & Music Fest
November 4 to 7, 1998
Everywhere, New York City, NY

There are no trees in Manhattan; you have to fight for your own damn oxygen. Which, perhaps, makes it the perfect setting for the world's largest gathering of music industry types and artists from around the globe. The rule of thumb here seems to be sensory overload. With more than 1000 bands in 100 clubs, 60+ hours of conference and discussion panels, and a trade show thrown in for good measure — all compacted into 4 days — CMJ, like the city in which it is held, offers more than you can take in at once. For every show you see, every conference you attend, every weasel you chat up, there are ten you miss. But hell, call me a hedonist, it's still fun to try.

Thursday

Port Authority, 42nd & 8th, 2:45pm
There's nothing quite like a nine and a half hour greyhound ride from Buffalo to NYC on a mean hangover to prepare the soul for the world's fastest city.

Millennium Broadway Hotel, 44th & Broadway, 3:15pm
Registration takes 15 minutes — most of it standing in line — but it takes half an hour to get an over stuffed elevator to the 8th floor trade show. The wait is worth it though. My swag bag contains the Holy Grail — the 1999 CMJ directory — which will make prank calling the president of any American label only a six pack and a page flip away. The show itself is a musician's dream (read: lots of free stuff!) The emphasis is on computer based DIY software for home recording, designing and pressing your own CDs, multimedia enhancement and web page construction. A full half of the floor has computer monitors up and displaying their wares. The other half has magazine publishers, CD manufacturers, musician's associations and charity "awareness" booths all eager to stuff a mag/CD/cassette/flyer into your hands. There is, however, a striking lack of musical instrument makers on hand — I at least expect a Roland or Akai booth to be on hand, but they're nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, I leave with a knapsack laden with loot and my goodie bag to boot.

Irving Plaza , Irving Plaza @ 15 St. E. 8:00pm

Hooverphonic
This Belgian quartet deserved better. Unfortunately they were saddled with the 8:00pm timeslot and the burden of the sound deficiencies of a half-empty venue. Nineteen year old front woman Geike Arnaert still managed to harness the energy of the room and captivate with her sensual, soaring soprano as the band meticulously wound its way through selections from their latest "Blue Wonder Power Milk" (Epic) Comparisons to Portishead and Tricky may be the closest reference points for the album, but live Hooverphonic have a much more organic edge. Where other trip-hoppers tend to fail miserably live by relying too heavily on machinery or attempting to perfectly recreate what you already own on CD, Hoovephonic successfully stretch their arrangements in an attempt to reach out and intimately caress the audience.

Faithless
When the bio of a band you've never heard shamelessly name drops its members' affiliation by remix with every one from Soul II Soul and Donna Summer to Jamiroquai and Bjork, you expect a lot. (For a complete — and very impressive — discography of mastermind Rollo Armstrong's work check out www.euronet.nl/~marbak/rdetcds.htm) Britain's Faithless do not disappoint. With over a half dozen singles and two albums since their inception in 1994, the London quintet's pop hooks built on a slick blend of hip-hop and techno is almost impossible to resist. Vocalist/MC Maxi Jazz (hey imagine that — a Brit-hop band with a male vocalist in the age of Mono, Portishead and Morcheeba) led Faithless and the Irving Plaza through a fifty minute set that drew from not only their sophomore release "Sunday 8pm" (Arista) but culled all the way back to 95's "Mea Salva". Having the benefit of a packed house and receptive audience didn't hurt either.

Tramps, W21St, Midnight
Artists Against Racism Benefit
As we arrive LA's Ozomatli is closing their set by marching through the audience to their own unique blend of world beat, a smooth mix of Salsa, hip-hop and Latin.

Tramps cafe has the absolute best fried chicken in the world. A super crispy battered chicken breast that is positively dripping on the inside, served with Dijon mustard on the side that is the perfect end to my evening.

During the set change, I huddle with my beer in the artist area and give quiet praise to ChartAttack for the conference passes which allow me to wander through the VIP lounge as a member of the press. Moby (who's set I missed) and DJ/Producer The Angel (Who will later jump up to spin) are on hand. The Asian Dub Foundation takes the stage at 2:00am. The sound is raw and surprisingly "rock" for this London group sporting twin DJs who fuse jungle beats to the bands mix of Ska, Dub and hip-hop. Unfortunately, for all their onstage energy, ADF's soundman must have had a bad headache. The mix is horribly anaemic to the point that I am consciously longing to feel the bass in my chest.

Friday

A BOY'S ADVENTURES ON THE M.T.A.
(Or why I didn't get to see anything other than Queens on my Friday in New York)
The best thing about my friend Jeff is that even though he's known me for the better part of ten years, he will still lend me money. The worst thing about my friend Jeff is that, to use the vernacular of the later half of this decade, he is temporally challenged.

Before I left Toronto on Wednesday night I went to the trouble of contacting a travel agent to arrange a flight south for Jeff on Friday and a return flights for both of us on Monday morning. The plan was that I would even be kind enough to ride the Subway all the way out to JFK and bring Jeff back into Midtown so he would get shot, mugged or raped. Sounds easy enough, right? Next time he can put his sorry ass in a cab, it's only $30US. My recording engineer, Matthew (who's come to NYC to show me around, hang out for CMJ, and catch up with old friends) and I are staying with a friend (Denise) in the north end of Brooklyn, about 5 stops on the F train from the Island. The three of us decide to head into the lower east side of Manhattan for food around 2:00pm, which I figure will give me an hour and a half or so to get from downtown out to the airport to meet Jeff when his flight lands at 5:45. From there we can come back into the city and catch some of the really cool shows I've circled on my festival guide.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of riding the NYC subway system, here's how you can make your own map for getting around town: 1 Boil spaghetti, add your favourite sauce and mix well 2 Open an atlas to a map of New York, NY. 3 Dump your pasta on the map 4 Use crayola© markers to carefully label the spaghetti tracks with the alphabet. When you run out of letters, start with numbers. 5 Tear the page out, fold it over randomly so that it doesn't quite close properly. Put it in your pocket to carry around and consult as often as possible to let every mugger in the city know you are a tourist 6 Make sure you have plenty of US cash on you. That way you'll only get beaten. Canadian currency will get you killed.

From the East village where we dine, I walk 4 blocks and jump the L train west to 14th St and 8th Ave. From there I can Jump an A train Lefferts Blvd Express or a C train local to Euclid, but not the C or E local to the World Trade Center — all of which run on the same tracks. From Euclid (*Note to self: be sure to get off the A Lefferts Blvd Express at Euclid before it expresses you through the next five stations and off the A track two stops before JFK or you'll have to stand on the platform in Queens looking like an idiot with your map open while you figure out that you have to switch trains and back track to Euclid) I have to catch one of the other A trains (either of which goes past the airport at Howard Beach station on their way to the Rockaways). From Howard Beach I wait another half hour to grab the JFK "B" shuttle bus to terminal 4. (Note to self: Be sure to get off at stop 4, not 4W or 4E or you'll have to walk half a kilometre through the airport to get to arrivals.)

The journey takes me until 6:20pm; I have visions of my poor lost friend standing alone, cold and confused outside a New York airport. Luckily (or at least I thought so at the time) VASP 889 from Toronto has been delayed. It comes in at 6:36. I'm thinking I know why the plane is late. I'm thinking I'll ask Jeff if just once he could be on time for something. By 7:30 I'm thinking it's taking him a hell of a long time to clear customs. By 7:45 I'm thinking a full body cavity search serves him right for being this late.

Now, nobody in New York likes people, let alone the people they have to deal with at their jobs, which they hate almost as much as they hate tourists. The staff at the JFK Terminal 4 Information Kiosk are exceptional examples of this phenomenon. The next time you're there and have a few hours to kill, try getting one of them to talk to you. I give up at 8:00 and decide to do the only reasonable thing. I call Jeff's mom to find out if he's still alive, and used his one phone call to get legal counsel. Jeff answers the phone in Toronto.

A shot of Jack straight up costs $7.00 US ($26 CND?) at JFK terminal 4, but I need it to take my mind off the trip back into Manhattan. Go back two paragraphs, read it in reverse and add an F train back to Brooklyn. Understand now? It takes me until 11:00 to get back to Denise's apartment, cold, tired but resolved to borrow money from Jeff. Lots of money. Lots of American money.

Saturday

Millennium Broadway Hotel, 44th & Broadway, 11:30AM
I hook up with Jeff at the trade show and refill my knapsack with anything I can still milk from the exhibitors. We then split up to wander about the hotel and take in the various panels.

Twist and Turn: The Producer's Panel
John Norris (MTV), Mario Caldato Jr., Mitchell Froom, Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Prince Paul discuss various acts they've worked with and how they choose new acts to produce. Yawn. Completely disappointing, and I'm surprised by the lack of daring any of the panelists show. I'd like to put Prince Paul in a studio with someone like the Smashing Pumpkins and see what kind of musical weirdness would happen. None of the participants, however, speak like they would ever take that risk. The lack of insight provided into any of their various production styles, or M.O.'s is also a let down.

Technology Advancements In Sound
Audio Magazine wunderkind Corey Greenberg's demonstration of the latest in digital technology is nothing more than an audiophile's love-in and sales pitch for home surround sound systems. In the demo of a remixed Soundgarden track, it sounds like Kim Thayil is sitting on my lap, which I suppose is OK if you're into that kind of thing. Besides being very cool for making a spaceship fly from the back of the theatre to the front when you go see a film, surround, (which has been adopted as the next industry standard), is supposed to "recreate the live music environment through three dimensional sound imaging." Why bother? I wonder if the people who invented this stuff have ever been to a live club show. I mean, I buy a CD mixed in stereo so I can listen to it at home without too much 10khz across the cymbals piercing my brain or the 800Hz buzzing in my jaw. And I like to be able to hear the singer, and the guitar solos and something other than the kick drum without having to walk around the room or complain to the soundman. I know it'll be harder to lose an extra three speakers for your home system than it is to misplace a pair of red and blue paper glasses, but this reeks of 3D films and smell-o-vision. Add to that the extra expense to the artist of producing/mixing surround and the fact that the consumer has to go buy the hardware to play it back, and you have to wonder.

Techno VS. Industrial : Can't we all just get along?


KMFDM's En Esch

This was by far the funniest and most entertaining of all the panels. The proposition was this: should techno and industrial have there own college radio tracking charts. Panelists included KMFDM's En Esch, Cubanate's Phil Barry, Matt Green of Spahn Ranch and various record company marketing types and record trackers. The jump-up kids sat on one side of the room and argued the differences between Drum 'n Bass, Techno, House and Jungle. The Spooky Kids clustered on the other side of the room and debated the differences between Rammstein, KMFDM, NIN, Marilyn Manson, Goth-Metal, Dance-Industrial, Pop-Industrial and how no one should have bothered after Skinny Puppy did it right the first time around back in '84. The record company people complained that their records were being played but not charted because they didn't fit a format and these things need to be toe-tagged, clarified, quantified and counted so they can make money. The artists then cleverly pointed out that they would continue to push their creativity by taking elements from all of the above listed, and maybe the people who buy records could decide what they did and didn't like listening to and the record people could try and invent a whole bunch more hyphenated terms for an art form that exists specifically because sometimes words just aren't accurate enough to communicate an emotion. I stood at the back and smiled.

Wielding a Club: Club ownership
Unlike the rest of the world, NYC club owners never double book bands, always pay their talent and staff, have the friendliest doormen on the planet, never oversell a show or serve minors.

Running On Empty: Tour survival
This was by far the dumbest and most remedial panel I have ever seen. First it was explained to us, um, dumb laymen, journalists and artists why you really need a booking agent and manager, because touring means the survival of your career and theirs. Then every panel member went out of their way to explain why you shouldn't call them and avoided answering audience questions with evasive, monosyllabic answers.

The Continental, 3rd Avenue, 8:50pm
Big Rude Jake


Big Rude Jake

After talking our way past the half block line up and the doormen, we wind up inside a packed Continental Room for our Can-Con fix. While other people have been hopping on the swing bandwagon as of late, Toronto's own BRJ has been tearing up joints around the world for the last ten years. The hard work has paid off with a signing to New York's RoadRunner Records (look for the new disc early in 1999) and some serious chops that not only kept the audience on its feet, but were entertaining for the musicians in the crowd. Set highlights included "Gotham City Serenade" with its shameless name-dropping references to The Bronx and Rockaway Beach, and "Buster Boy" with it's N'owlin's style 2nd line back beat (think "Hand Jive"). A small Canadian contingent hung at the back bar and smiled approvingly.

Downtime, 30th St W. @ 7th Ave
Solarized
We were supposed to see NYC's Dripping Goss who according to my friend Matthew are brutally heavy. However, we arrive at the club 10 minutes before their set time only to find that the band has already played, loaded out, and split. Solarized (who I've never heard of, but my CMJ guide says are from Jersey) are on stage and turn out to be the trip's pleasant surprise. They are heavy, way heavy. Proving that stoner rock in the tradition of Monster Magnet and Sabbath is still alive and well. Two full on devil-horn hands in the air fun (it't too much Rock for one hand!).

Irving Plaza , Irving Plaza @ 15 St. E. 11:30pm
The Grassy Knoll
Bob Green's project from San Francisco, was touted to me as a full-on Acid Jazz ensemble experience. What we got was Bob and a friend at two turntables smiling back at each other while they each did the DJ "isn't this the bomb?" head-nod, and built boring grooves that lasted for under 2 minutes each. The crowd talked through their whole set.

Josh Wink
For anybody who's still afraid of DJ culture or is just intimidated by its overwhelming size and rapid growth of hyphenated terms, DJ/Producer Josh Wink makes a great jumping off point to get into the scene. You could call him the best damn thing to come out of Philly since cream cheese and Rocky. Taking the stage to twin screens projecting home movie camcorder footage of a ride on the New York subway, Wink stretched out the intro to his set opener for 4 minutes. Playing with the audience, layering in synth pads, sampling his own voice on stage with a "one - two, one-two" count, looping it in time back through filters, twisting the sound and finally dropping a big hip-hop beat with a Trent Reznor vocal in over top of the whole thing. And that was just the first song. Through his set Wink demolished style barriers, effortlessly blending jump-up with hip-hop with Industrial with Jungle — you get the idea. The use of tension and release was masterful, with abrupt tempo and stylistic shifts, or a transitional snare press roll that built over 64 bars before launching into a four/four disco beat complete with a beat of high hats.

Meat Beat Manifesto


Meat Beat Manifesto

When Prodigy, Future Sound Of London, and The Chemical Brothers have all pilfered an artist's back catalogue, I expect a lot. MBM were OK, but nothing more. Following Josh Wink's very audience-friendly set with tired, b&w done-to-death porno film and school movie stock footage probably wasn't a good idea. Having a lousy mix which rendered anything frontman/MBM Orchestrator Jack Dangers said unintelligible (even when the band stopped playing) was an even worse idea. On the plus side, the light show was cool, and I talked some one into buying me another double Jack on ice.