*Disclaimer: Yes, I realize I wrote a damned novel here. Thanksgiving break, no friends, and top rate procrastination all added together equal a long ass CMJ journal that nobody cares about unless they were there. Sorry about that. By any means, the rambling and poor writing probably will not be understood by them anyway, so enjoy!

Wednesday. Day One:

The day started early at 5 AM when all of us KCOUers going to NYC for the CMJ Music Marathon met to drive to KC, where our flight was leaving at 9 AM. Ross, Pat and I drove together, would room together, and would do most of all we did on the trip together. After a nostalgic layover (at least for me) in Pittsburgh, we were on our way to NYC, the first time for many of us, including myself. We arrived and seeing Shea Stadium from the LaGuardia runway, I knew I'd be a happy little boy on this trip. And I was...

The Hilton we stayed at on the Avenue of the Americas was in fact "indie rock hotel" as we all called it. Every hipster from longhairs to shorthairs to nohairs to dyedhairs packed the lobby and crammed the elevators with their indie stank. In a performance a couple days later, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog said the hotel was filled with "girls who look like Janeane Garafalo and boys who look like...Janeane Garafalo." This was very true. Ross felt uncool around all the scenesters. I was unthreatened because it was just so comical. What were they gonna do, sweater us to death? For our hipster crew, the girls stayed on the 28th floor and guys stayed on the 29th. After checking in and catching our breath, we headed to the 3rd floor to pick up our CMJ badges (which got us into shows) and take all the free magazines, promo CDs, and Jagermeister merchandise we could get our hands on. After this, Ross, Pat, Andrea, and I took off in search of burritos and used record stores. We were not disappointed.

After spending a couple hours down in the East Village and walking through the cold drizzle, we returned to the hotel and for the most part called it a night. There wasn't much of a great selection of bands to see on the first night, at least as far as we were concerned, and Pat and Ross basically passed out at 9 PM. I met up with Katie, Rachel, and Ty, and we wandered around the hotel hallways eating the fruits of the ice machine and looking for something to do. Katie and I went to the 24-hour convenience store next to the hotel, and there I decided to get drunk, not knowing that finding a 40 oz. in NYC is just about as easy as finding a porno theatre in Times Square post-Guiliani's term (not that I was looking...ahem). By any means, I didn't buy the $5 22s they were selling and didn't get drunk. Oh well. I was more concerned with the next day.

Thursday. Day Two:

The second day started with more of what we did the day before: used record store shopping. Pat went to the rescheduled CMJ last year, so he knew of some places to hit, so we went to St. Mark's Place to peruse through the record stores, thrift stores, porno shops, and S&M fashion shops. Search and Destroy sported $45 ratty, torn t-shirts as well as those displaying the best in fecal erotica. Pat and I were this close (really close) to buying one of those. We ate at the Yaffa Cafe, grabbed our share of the free condoms they were offering, and headed out to waste more of our money, which we certainly did.

Thursday night would provide the main concert Ross and I wanted to see at CMJ, the Touch and Go showcase, where Enon, the Black Heart Procession, Blonde Redhead, Calexico, !!!, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were all playing. Mainly I just wanted to see Blonde Redhead as I've listened to them since high school yet have never had the opportunity to see them live. Naturally, I figured this show would be packed, as to me it looked like the show to go to at CMJ, so we got there plenty early. The show was at Irving Plaza, located right by Union Square. Ross, Pat, and I arrived just in time to meet up with Ross's friend from high school. Oddly enough, we ran into Katie, Rachel and Ty at the exact same time, as Rachel wanted to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs really bad. We were all the first ones there so Rachel and the others started a line as we went off and ate. Upon our return, about a hundred people had shown up, so Pat and I went to the back of the line cause we didn't wanna be complete dicks. I noticed the guys standing in front of us were the Israeli band Rockfour, who played an interesting set at Mojo's over the summer, but instead of talking to them, Pat and I just decided to be dicks and cut in line up by the others. We got in okay, Pat bought his first beer of the night, and it was time to rock.

Enon was the first up and were definitely good, but I had seen them a month before in Columbia, so I was mainly waiting for the rest of the bands, none of which I had seen before. The Black Heart Procession followed, and as it was Halloween, all members of the band were wearing masks. The singer came out in the coolest mask I have ever seen, an intricately detailed mask of a horse's head, and when he began playing a saw with a bow, one of the lasting images of CMJ was complete. The BHP was fun, but once again Blonde Redhead was next and they were the band I wanted to see. When they did come out, Pat and I just about pissed ourselves at the sight of Kazu Makino, the Japanese temptress with the stellar vox you hear on all those Blonde Redhead records. I believe we creeped out the girl standing next to us with all our comments on how beautiful she is. By any means, Blonde Redhead was amazing. Kazu and the Pace twins played old songs, including my fav "Bipolar," as well as a couple new fantastic ones. Calexico was next, who Ross was really excited to see again. They came out wearing skull masks and played a set Ross describes as nothing else but "awesome!" They were fun and it was after their set that our group kind of disbanded. Ross took Katie back to the hotel as she was sick, Rachel and Ty disappeared, and having already spent $40 on alcohol, Pat left to go party with some New York kids and complete his self-proclaimed goal of being "the drunk guy on the trip." When !!! (pronounced chick-chick-chick) came on, I was alone and sat back in horror as this group (how the hell are they on Tough and Go?) pranced around on stage. Imagine about 10 guys each clad in dozens of small, shiny mirrors playing dance music. No, not dance-y music, DANCE music. The lead guy kept telling everyone to shake their ass, which the majority did. Maybe I'm too pretentious or maybe I'm just not pretentious enough, but I sure don't understand the draw. I found Rachel and Ty during this musical monstrosity's performance and we moved our way up for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I had the feeling that a lot of the people at the show were there to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, one of the more questionably-hyped bands out there today, and considering how packed it was, I think I was right. Frankly, I haven't been too impressed with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' recorded output, because it isn't like they are offering anything new. Sure, they're okay, but are they worth the hype? I don't know. I must admit though, their live show is quite fun. You can't ignore their energy and stage presence, and the crowd was definitely into it, so it just put icing on the Touch and Go cake if you will. After the show, the three of us sat around trying to figure out where Pat was but we realized he was off partying it up, so we got on the subway and headed back uptown, arriving at indie rock hotel somewhere around 3:30 AM.

Friday. Day Three:

I awoke at about 6:45 AM to the sounds of Pat stumbling into the room, having spent $80 on alcohol the night before. We had discussed getting up early to go get standby tickets for Conan, but we both agreed sleep was more important. When I finally got up for good, at like 11, I kind of regretted not getting them. On this day, we all basically did our own thing. Ross went to used record stores all day in Brooklyn with Jason Greenberg, a KCOU alum who works for the Astralwerks label. Pat didn't get out of bed. I just wandered the area around the hotel, as there was a band playing the day stage at the Hilton that I wanted to see at 2:30.

Since I didn't get tickets to Conan, I figured the next best thing would be just to go see Rockefeller Center (the building I'll work at once I take over Conan's show). I did some touristy photo taking of the ice skating rink and made my way into the NBC store. When I was staring longingly at the Conan merchandise, an employee there offered to let me take part in a mock Conan bit they have at the store where you can sit in front of a blue screen and ride the desks like they do on the show, except here with a prerecorded tape of Conan's dialogue and image. Naturally I did and made an ass out of myself in front of a bunch of tourists. I wandered some more and made it back to the Hilton, where I wanted to see the day stage set of Jason Loewenstein, the bassist for Sebadoh who released a solo album over the summer.

To my dismay, the day stage order got reversed, and instead of seeing Jason Loewenstein, I had to sit through the rather boring set of Jim Jones, of My Morning Jacket. No offense to him, but I wasn't in the mood for the hairy fellow's acoustic crooning when I wanted to hear Loewenstein's balls-out rock songs. Luckily, Loewenstein did play after him, an hour after he was supposed to play, and he did not disappoint. He did a pretty short set of songs from the album, and while Loewenstein has never been my main draw to Sebadoh, his solo material and the set were pretty fantastic. After this, I headed back up to the 29th floor as I had accomplished what I wanted to at least in the daytime. Pat was still in bed and Ross was gone.

Since no one else was around I decided I'd do more touristy stuff alone. Central Park was about 4 blocks north of the hotel so I made my way that way, just so that I could say I've been there. Since I was alone and had nobody to take pictures of, I amused myself by taking pictures of others taking pictures of their families by the skyline. Good times. I tried to go to the Central Park Zoo but it was closing as I got there, so I picked up some bizarre post cards from a street vendor and went back to the hotel where I finally ran into Ross. There were some shows I wanted to see that night and our plans had to be made.

Friday night would offer a bunch of shows I wanted to see, and I fought in my mind with what to do. Lou Barlow was playing a gig in Brooklyn but I decided against it (much to the surprise of those around me) because I figured I could go to two other shows I wanted to see and see 5 great bands as opposed to one...so that's what we did. Pat finally got out of bed but decided he was going to see Idlewild and the Danielson Famile at Irving Plaza, so Ross and I left him and headed downtown. Kill Rock Stars was having a showcase at the Knitting Factory, where the Slumber Party, Quix-o-tic, the Bangs, and the Gossip were playing, so the two of us went thinking we could easily find the place. We were mistaken. We got off the subway at a stop way downtown. The streets were empty and dark and I believe Ross said something about it being "a bad neighborhood." We were clearly lost and we were headed south. It was at this point that the most comical thing on the entire trip happened. As we're walking I look up ahead and see this wide-open space in the distance being spotlighted by the brightest lights you could imagine. A large portrait of an American flag was painted on a building behind. I put two and two together and that's when it hit me. Here is the verbal exchange verbatim:

M: Holy shit! I think that's Ground Zero!

R: No. There's no way that could be Ground Zero...wait, no that's definitely Ground Zero!

We stumbled upon Ground Zero! Thousands of people go to that place everyday searching for it. We STUMBLED upon it. We even laughed about how we weren't going to go see it, but sure enough Ross and I stumbled upon it. We didn't even know we were in that section of town. Obviously headed in the wrong direction, we headed north again, coming across Murray Street, which of course made me, a Sonic Youth fan boy, happy. That's where their studio is located. I made sure to snap a picture of the street sign while Ross made fun of me. Then we were on our way.

We ate some Chinese food and finally found the Knitting Factory, walking in halfway through the Slumber Party's set. I was excited to see them, because I had never seen the band, despite the fact that they have been to Columbia once or twice in the last couple years. They played delightful pop and I bobbed my head as I sweated away in the tightly packed, small club I had heard so much about. We headed upstairs before Quix-o-tic, who behind Blonde Redhead was probably the second most band I wanted to see at CMJ. Quix-o-tic was fucking excellent and Christina Billotte's creepy guitar riffs had my full attention. Next came the Bangs, who actually were supposed to play a KCOU birthday party show the preceding weekend but cancelled due to having "no transportation." Sure. Anyway, their set was pretty fun but not as good as the two openers. They played upbeat female-fronted punk pop and even covered "Southern Girls," much to the dismay of Ross, a big Cheap Trick fan. After their set was cut short by the lights being turned off, we headed out before the Gossip played because we needed to catch a train to Brooklyn to see Rye Coalition and the legendary James Chance play at the Warsaw. This would turn out to be quite the adventure.

As I've said, Ross and I have no sense of direction, and this is even more of a problem when Brooklyn is involved because from our vantage point, it seems no one has ever been to Brooklyn before. Why? Because as far as we could tell, no map has ever been made of it. Anything we found only showed like three major streets, and the street the Warsaw was located on definitely was not one of them. We figured out which subway train we needed, so we went to the station and waited for it to arrive. It was pretty funny because on the whole, Manhattan is a pretty clean area. The subway stations are clean. There isn't graffiti. The places are covered in white tile and are pretty nice (if you don't mind the occasional rat walking around). This is not the case when the train you want is going to Brooklyn. They don't give a damn about those trains and the stations they service. The tiles were rusted brown, the signs were dirty, and I don't think they've done any work on them since the '20s. We figured we'd make it to Brooklyn and go from there, because at least in Brooklyn they should have a more detailed map of the place, right? Wrong. We arrive at the Brooklyn stop to find no helpful map, and the surrounding area was ten times darker and creepier at night than the area surrounding Ground Zero. Not really knowing what to do, we figure we can ask the guy working at the subway stop because he should know where Brooklyn streets are, right? Wrong. We asked where either Driggs or this other street it was near was at and all the guy could say was "Uh, I think Driggs is that way" and pointed east. We gave it a shot and headed that way and lucky enough, we found Driggs Avenue. The problem was we probably should have taken a different train into Brooklyn because we were 20 blocks south of where we needed to be. We didn't realize this though. We thought we were just a couple blocks away, so we walked. And walked. And walked. And crossed a park. And walked some more. And 20 blocks (and a few miles) later, we were in a Polish neighborhood and there was what appeared to be a small bar called the Warsaw.

The Warsaw was no small bar though, more so a big banquet hall. The Warsaw was sponsoring the Tigerstyle Records showcase but we would only catch the last few (and best) acts on the bill. Here I saw one of the defining performances at CMJ: that of the legendary No Wave pioneer James Chance.

James Chance and his band the Contortions were one of the important acts in the late 70s/early 80s NYC No Wave scene and the fact that I saw him perform at CMJ blows my fucking mind. I didn't even know he was playing until I got there, but I made sure I saw him because really, there could have been nothing better to me than to see James fucking Chance in New York fucking City! I must admit, I was a little wary of what I was going to see though. I mean it IS 2002, not 1979. The majority of the crowd left after Rye Coalition and those of us that remained were either college radio dorks like myself who like No Wave, people who didn't know who he was, record label people, or the 40something couple I had my eye on the whole show. There was this couple of 40 year old junkies still wearing the same clothes they probably wore at the Danceteria in 1980 who were REALLY into James Chance. The female of the couple looked like a mix between Courtney Love and a skunk and was clearly drugged up on something, as she chanted "James Chance! James Chance! James Chance!" I guess this couple was sweet on one hand, yet on the other it was quite depressing. By any means, a bunch of old guys soon took the stage, setting up their guitars, drums, and vibraphones. Soon a short guy in a tuxedo with a really funky mop of hair (imagine my Jimmy Neutron hair except with the front like five inches longer) took the stage in a very disoriented manner. This was the illustrious James Chance. What would transpire over the next 35 minutes or so was perhaps the most bizarre thing I've ever seen and was probably the highlight of CMJ. No, it wasn't the No Wave extravaganza I was hoping for, as he played more relaxed, lounge-y, jazz-influenced music. With every new song though, something stranger would happen, whether it was the wild dancing the previously mentioned couple was doing, the drugged out 50 year old woman on the side of the stage (who was possibly his wife?) and her daughter who were dancing and falling down to the music, or the fact that James Chance has the weirdest mannerisms and stage presence I have ever seen, yelling for hairspray and waving his fists up in the air like a composer as if anyone else in the band was actually paying attention to him. Either way, we left the Warsaw that night with big smiles on our faces. Granted those were soon gone as we trekked through the freezing temperatures afterwards trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of Brooklyn.

We had trouble getting into Brooklyn. We had trouble leaving. Since we came in on the subway train 20 blocks south of the Warsaw, we figured the one that was north would be closer, so we headed north, figuring that we'd run into the train. Of course, we walked and walked and there was no subway train. Were there any taxis in sight either? Of course not! This is Brooklyn for crying out loud. We continued walking through the dark streets and whenever we'd see bright lights we would go in that direction. As we came upon a McDonald's with a big, creepy Ronald McDonald balloon coming out of the roof, we saw a taxi and approached it wanting to get a ride. Do we get one though? No. In fact, the taxi driver asked us for directions! We headed north again and I saw a Sunoco claiming to be open 24 hours a day, so naturally I figure they'd be able to help us. The Sunoco turned out to be one of those really small one-room gas stations where the clerk sits inside and you can't come in. As we approached, the guy that was in there though was definitely not moving. He was sitting down. His mouth was agape in an unnatural position. I think he was dead. We didn't stick around to figure out though. We kept walking and finally we saw another taxi, flagged him down, and he took us back to the Hilton, saving us from the grasp of Brooklyn. It was a great day from start to finish, and probably the best (yet longest) day of the trip.

Saturday. Day Four:

After the adventure the night before, everybody slept in. Once we got up, Pat took off, as he finally got in contact with a friend he has in New York that he had been trying to meet up with. He’d be gone all day and we wouldn’t see him until later that night at the Knitting Factory. Ross had been invited to an AAM Music Directors-only party that we were going to go to that afternoon where Hot Hot Heat was supposed to be playing. However, we decided not to go, as we didn’t really care to schmooze it up with college radio promo people and we were going to probably be seeing Hot Hot Heat later that night anyway. Ross and I met up with Katie, Rachel, and Ty again and took off to the Village. Saturday would basically consist of doing all we had done before down in the Village: walking around Union Square, St. Mark’s Place, etc. Naturally, we did some more used record shopping and upon finding a street sale in front of a record store, I picked up a Wolf Colonel and Love As Laughter album just for a couple bucks total. Ross also made sure to buy a sweet full-body Puma suit at a nearby store, much to our amusement. We also swung by CBGB, so that I could say I saw it, which I certainly did.

Once again, there were two really good shows that night we wanted to see: the Sub Pop showcase and the Merge Records showcase. We decided we’d try to do both and after dropping our purchases off in the room, we took off. I was in charge of directions this time and felt rather confident. We were headed to the Sup Pop showcase at the Mercury Lounge, which was on Houston Street. I got us there safely and in one piece. The bands playing the showcase were Iron and Wine, Jason Loewenstein, Arlo, Hot Hot Heat, and Ugly Casanova, but probably the main draw was that the event was to be hosted by David Cross, of Mr. Show fame, who just released Sub Pop’s first comedy album. For the first time of the whole music marathon, the Mercury Lounge was actually giving preference to those of us with badges, so Ross and I were let in before the majority of those in line were. They were passing out tickets for complimentary Rheingold beer, so I grabbed mine, used Ross’s, and was ready to “rock out.” Iron and Wine took the stage, and while they aren’t exactly the type of band to rock out to, their folky stylings were good and I didn’t mind the low-key atmosphere of the opening act. I was curious as to where David Cross was though, as he was no where to be seen. Jason Loewenstein, who I did see the day before, came out next, and Ross and I somehow made our way to the front of the stage, right in front of Loewenstein’s monitor. This was a mistake. We didn’t even have time to wonder where Mr. Cross was when a huge mass of sound blasted out of the monitors, almost destroying my eardrums. The set was good, though almost identical to the one the day before. I sure didn’t mind though. After the set, Ross and I went to the back where they were selling earplugs for a buck. We each picked up a pair and it was around then that we saw David Cross walking around. He eventually got on stage and apologized for not being there. Apparently he got incredibly drunk the night before. He told a few jokes and introduced Arlo, a pretty fun power pop group. We stood in the back as Arlo played. They were pretty unremarkable and disappointing, though maybe that was because it was the first performance I had ever witnessed wearing earplugs. I was also staring at David Cross the whole time with my mouth agape. I had finally built up enough confidence to go talk to him when he went back onstage after Arlo’s set. He started to do some stand-up and claimed to want to make “sweet, sweet love” to all the indie kids at the Hilton. Somebody in the crowd yelled “Stop talking!” and he goes “Seriously? Um, this is what I do?” It was funny, so I laughed. He introduced Hot Hot Heat who came on next and played a rather amazing set. I really didn’t know much by them at the time, so I was incredibly pleased. As we wanted to still go to the Merge Records show (mainly in hopes of meeting Christina Rentz, KCOU’s Merge contact), we left before Hot Hot Heat finished their set.

I had gotten us to the Sub Pop show with no problems so I was feeling quite confident in my sense of direction. I would not feel confident any longer. The Merge showcase was at the Knitting Factory, where we had been the night before, so on paper, it seemed like it was going to be easy to get there. It seemed like all we needed to do was go directly south about two blocks, get on a subway train, go about two stops, and then we’d be exactly where we were 24 hours earlier. So we began walking south, or so we thought. We kept walking and walking and I saw no subway. Eventually I did see something else though—every sign suddenly had Chinese writing on it. Chinese writing? How the fuck did I get us to Chinatown? Then I saw something else, a sign for the Manhattan Bridge. Apparently I didn’t lead us south, rather southeast, and we were quite far away from where we needed to be. So we began walking west. And south some more. And then west some more. And soon enough we stumbled across Leonard Street, where the Knitting Factory was. Yes, once again, we stumbled across it. This whole time we had still been looking for the subway, not the Knitting Factory. Of course we found the Knitting Factory, not the subway.

We got in as Eric Bachmann was finishing his set. They wouldn’t let us into the actually show as they were waiting for other people with badges to leave, so we waited in the lobby. We asked about the whereabouts of Christina, and soon enough we found her. She was busy running around though, so we didn’t get to talk long. Pat and his friends walked in, and soon enough, they let us into the actual stage room as Imperial Teen, the night’s last band, was going on. We all went upstairs and bobbed our heads along to Imperial Teen’s hard pop. I noticed that Patty Schemel, the former drummer of Hole, was now the drummer for Imperial Teen, which appealed to the 1994 Jr. High schooler in me that I’ve never let go. It was a good set. Afterwards, Pat and his friends took off, and Ross and I met up with Christina again, who wanted us to go with her and her friend to another show.

After walking a bit and finally taking a cab, the four of us made it to this hotel, where a show sponsored by the Cartoon Network was being held. I believe Prince Paul or somebody of that nature was supposed to be playing it. They were being especially stingy at the door and we waited in line in the freezing cold for about a half hour. Once we got inside, we realized it was stupid and left. Christina decided she would take us to a Merge Records “after party” at a place that was formerly the club known as Brownies. It was fun, though kind of awkward. One of the (drunk) Merge execs there talked to us about KCOU for a long time and about how for years they all considered Columbia the “Chapel Hill of the Midwest.” We also talked about the Big Star reunion and how big of a deal it was for college radio. I felt proud. After awhile, we all walked over a couple blocks to a pizza place on St. Mark’s. It was nearing 4 AM about this time and Ross and I had to catch a plane in a handful of hours, so we said our goodbyes and left. We somehow made it back to the hotel without incident.

Sunday. Day 5:

The last day of the trip would be sad and dull. I sure as Hell didn’t want to go back to Columbia, Missouri. We got up and all met in the lobby. It was the first time I had seen a lot of the people from KCOU since we got to the hotel on the first day. As we waited for everyone to show up, we swapped stories and gossip and what not. Our flight was leaving around one, so we piled into taxis and made our way back to LaGuardia. After a layover in Charlotte, we were on our way back to Kansas City, where we all broke apart and came back to Columbia. The trip was fun and life in Columbia afterwards has not matched the fun I had while in NYC. Hopefully I shall return to NYC someday and make it my bitch.

- Mark Shelley