The thing about New York is it goes at one speed: Fast. While SXSW has a laid-back, barbecue-soaked vibe to it, CMJ, its northern cousin has a bit more harried feel; clattering trains and line anxiety fill the spaces between showcases.
Sometimes, though, that hustle and bustle can be a beautiful thing. Rather than shutting down the city, CMJ becomes a web of hidden gems, sanctuaries scattered around a busy city that barely notices that the number of aspiring bands has increased by a factor of ten. There’s beauty in the captured moments, somehow private in the country’s biggest city.
Moments like the Purity Ring show at Mercury Lounge, when two sets of pipes – one metal, one human – weave layers of electrifying music that leaves the audience buzzing. Or the Lady Lamb (without the Beekeeper) set at Rockwood Music Hall, where a young woman boldly steps to the microphone, clasps her hands behind her back, and captivates a formerly chattering audience with her a cappella voice. Or Zola Jesus’s stunning performance in the belly of Le Poisson Rouge, trance-like and powerful, melting the outside world away.
It’s not all transcendent. Sometimes it’s just fun, like Ricky Rude’s high energy set at Gramercy Theater or the Duckdown vs. Blacksmith hip hop showcase at Music Hall of Williamsburg. A seemingly endless string of rappers accompanying Statik Selektah on the decks, a swagger-filled set from hip hop’s best unknown emcee Jean Grae, and, finally, the inimitable Talib Kweli. The rap crew competition was over the second Pharoahe Monch slayed “Simon Says,” but the camaraderie stayed all night. And as another CMJ came to a close, New York kept moving, pushing ever forward, grateful for the stolen seconds and newfound obsessions.