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The National had an inauspicious start to their SummerStage concert on Aug. 4 in Central Park; their sound was sort of tinny and gargled during the first two or three songs before the band’s warm, loungey sound emerged. Frontman Matt Berninger, in jeans and a lighter denim shirt, also took a bit of time loosen up, but before long he was contorting and twisting like a demur version of Radiohead’s Thom Yorke.

The tightly packed crowd swayed and sung along. Julia Stiles was notable among the swayers.

Berninger continued his penchant for entering crowds during the Obama anthem “Mr. November” (recorded in 2005 and co-opted this year). A bit of the way into that most rousing of National songs, Berninger moved off the stage so quickly that he disconnected his wired microphone during a chorus. To Berninger’s credit, he continued his full-throated cries of “I’m Mr. November, I won't fuck us over!” even with a nonfunctioning mike.

The concert's finest moments came when Berninger stepped back and brothers Aaron and Bryce Dessner stepped forward to rip forth peals of guitar-and-bass harmony.

The band of Ohio-born New Yorkers did not remain home for long; they flew to Oslo today for Norway's Øya Festival.

— Max Dickstein

For pictures and the full set list, go here.

I was fortunate enough to get into Talib Kweli's show at the Museum of Natural History Friday (part of their One Step Beyond series, co-sponsored by Flavorpill). It was totally awesome. I was too busy dancing to take notes (and I don't usually dance, so you know it was good), but I want to say absolutely don't miss Kweli next time he's in town.

Also, AMNH's Rose Center for Earth and Space is a great space to see a show. The room is big enough to accommodate a good crowd, but it still manages to seem intimate (though vantage of the stage is limited). Partying in a museum feels like your doing something illicit, which adds to the thrill.

eh.www.amNY.com

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I had remembered liking the first Futureheads album when it came out (way back in 2004), but I had kind of forgotten about the band. But when Brooklyn Vegan announced they were throwing a concert at Pianos a night after their Bowery show, I said to myself, "Self, your indie cred is on the line if you don't go to this secret show." Or maybe I said, "Hey cool. I'm not doing anything Wednesday night." I don't remember.

Anyway, for whatever reason, I'm so glad I went. The show was kick ass! I'd never seen them live before, so I don't know if they were any different than usual, but the band was loose and relaxed, joking with the crowd and each other between songs before breaking into machine gun punk riffs and precise-but-emotive angelic harmonies. It was really exciting. The audience (including me) ate it up with a spoon.

Unfortunately, I think they lose a little something on album, so I don't know if I'll be digging up that old CD anytime soon, but on the bright side, the band said they'll be back in September. For the love of your mother, GO!

eh.www.amNY.com

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Though the rain last night deterred me from seeing Vampire Weekend, et al., at SummerStage, some are made of tougher stuff. amNewYork's Max Dickstein reports:

The attendees of the summer stage concert featuring Born Ruffians, Kid Sister and Vampire Weekend on Saturday defied heinous, intermittent thunderstorm drenchings to cheer on the Central Park summer concert series kickoff. Earnest rocker host Andrew W.K. rallied a crowd of soaked collegians when Vampire Weekend took the stage at around 6:15. The foursome hadn't played in hometown New York since a pair of concerts at Bowery Ballroom in mid-January, when Vampire debuted its self-titled first album. Making their way through their clap-happy catalogue of three-minute ditties such as "Mansard Roof" and "Oxford Comma," frontman Ezra Koenig thanked the crowd for waiting out the weather "shitshow."

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Andrew W.K. came onstage for the penultimate song — a cover of Tom Petty's "Don't come around here no more." Koenig said Petty's work is "often derided as frat rock," before Vampire and W.K. went through the water-logged rendition of the Petty hit.
The band finished with a rousing run-through of "Walcott" before the crowd began to squish homeward out of the soggy park.

-Max Dickstein

So this was some sort of celebration for MySpace's 150th "Secret Show," a designation I quibble with given that they have a public website, but never mind.

We arrived just after Battles had started their set. For those unfamiliar with the band, their sound is a little bit of doom electro apocalypse anarchy. Honestly, I have no idea how you would even think to write these songs, but they're brilliant. On stage, the intensity on their faces matches the relentless, frantic droning of the guitar and various noises that they're creating. They are also, from the back of the room, visibly sweaty. This is a theme we will be returning to.

When there are vocals, they're fuzzed out beyond recognition, but it doesn't matter, because the sound is just transfixing. I'm sorry I don't know any song titles besides "Atlas" (see video above), so I can't tell you what they played, but I can tell you this music is the stuff of nightmares. Awesome nightmares. The boys are all writhing to the beat.

The way many of the songs seem to work is that they grow out of increasingly structured noodling and self-sampling, working to a frenzy and then dying out. One such song died out into "Atlas" and the room went crazy. (Also, it's at this point I notice that the high hat is up like six feet in the air.) Everyone clapped along, reinforcing the militaristic feel of the song. The demoniacally militaristic feel of the song.

They played another couple of songs after that, but, again, I have no idea what they were. They were awesome.

During the interlude between sets, we learned, if you want to get a room full of people to dance, play this song.

Gnarls after the jump...

This video is a little rough, but it's a good example of Josh playing live. (The song is "You Can't Shake Me.")

As I said yesterday, Fix can be kinda cheesy, but it's fun glam cheese. Last night, I caught the last show of his month-long residency at Arlene's Grocery. It was quite a crowd, too. I suspect a lot of the people were on the list or personally knew Josh, but whoever they were, they were genuinely enthused to be there.

As was I. Besides being a fan, I was wondering how Fix's larger-than-life sound would translate, well, to real life.

To open the show, the band came out and vamped with a feedback-laden riff while the audience awaited Fix's appearance. He bounded on stage through the audience and started tossing T-shirts out to the crowd. (I didn't get one; they said "Rock and Roll Slut," not something I really want to proclaim across my chest.) He wailed on the vibraslap (a future installment of the Weird Instrument series, for sure), and we were off.

As expected, he sounds slightly different live than on CD, but still really present. The guitar sound is massive, and his guitarist and second keyboardist (he's the first) sing backup vocals so we don't lose that magnificent harmony (which I think is all him on the album).

A few songs in, he starts off on "Don't Call Me in the Morning," the first single from his recently released debut, "Free At Last." He picks up the vibraslap again only to cast it aside (literally), which is maybe appropriate for a song called "Don't Call Me in the Morning."

Later in the evening he says that he's often accused of having a sailors mouth, "but I was a sailor at one point," he says, tossing out an expletive and then going into a song he wrote about his time as an oil rigger ("Rolled in from the South"). Some of these songs betray a slight country influence, but it's ok. It's also at this point that I decide that he kind of looks like a mash up of Moby and Elton John.

more after the jump...

So Amstel Light & SPIN threw a little party last Thursday at the Boat Basin — which is a nice little venue for concerts, by the way. They should do that more often.

Up front, I should admit that while I recognized the name, I don't actually know Pete Yorn's sound so well. But I did know his first song, "Life on a Chain." As did the entire audience, who sang along.

He had a one-man-band set up, with an acoustic guitar and a harmonica around his neck, and an enthusiastic core of supporters ringed the stage. Towards the edges of the crowd people were less into the music, but enjoying themselves nonetheless.

His set, as you might expect, was comprised of early millennial singer/songwriter tunes. Simple but effective. I didn't actually recognize a whole lot. He played a low key cover of "Unchained Melody," which had a slacker vibe but was really pretty.

eh.www.amNY.com

I don't know if you know this, but it freaking RAINS in New Orleans. And as much of the city is below sea level, when it rains, it floods. We forded our (rental) car through some major water on our way down ... and while we freaked out, local residents did not bat an eye. This is all to set up our rainy Sunday spent at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival.

But first, though it had rained heavily the day before and the ground was quite soggy, we arrived to sunny skies and stopped in the gospel tent to hear Paulette Wright & Volume of Praise. The ensemble was dressed radiantly all in white, and from their volume (ha!) it sounded like there were far more people on stage than there actually were: Ten singers plus a small backing band. They were joyous and fun. We sat for one song to churchify the start to our adventure, but on the way out, they started in on "Tell Me Something Good," and we had to go back. I don't think the Rufus and Chaka version was talking about Jesus, though. But with a little tweaking, it actually works well as a song of praise.

When we finished up there, we headed across the hot concrete to catch Mamadou Diabate -- a man with a group hailing from Mali in west Africa and Brooklyn -- in the blues tent. Even their warm up was fun and bouncy. Diabate plays the kora, a traditional west African instrument that looks like a giant sitar mated with a gourd (also, the drummer played something that looked like a nerf ball). The music was largely instrumental, although there were a few songs with lyrics, both in French and English.

Not that I've ever seen anyone play this instrument before, but Diabate wailed on the kora. His virtuoso fingers danced over the strings and he's obviously a master of the instrument. The music was both challenging and soothing, structured like jazz, with a main beat giving way to each band member's solo. While the structure of the music is complex and rhythmically intense, the melody just washes over you. It was cool.

It was during this set that the storm clouds gathered and let loose. We were under a tent, so it was mostly alright, although at a certain point, the water crept up under the tent and covered the ground (up to about half an inch). It was the last time my shoes would be dry all day.

more after the jump...

(courtesy Erin Siegal and www.jellowrestle.com)

No, that's not the band. That's an action shot from Amateur Female Jello Wrestling, the event at which Flying Machines was playing last night.

They played a set to open the festivities; good, strong, bass-driven rock. Their songs are catchy and fun and tightly melodic.

Their lead singer looks kind of like Daniel Radcliffe (and his (model?) girlfriend is stunning, not that that's relevant), and, actually, if Harry Potter had time after defeating the Dark Lord, he'd probably love to be in this band. His voice (the actual lead singer's, not Harry Potter's) manages to be strong and lovely and delicate at the same time. He straddles the falsetto/baritone divide like a young Freddy Mercury.

Listening to their tracks on MySpace (see link above) today, the parallels between Flying Machine and Queen seem even more clear. Bombastic glam rock with lush harmonies and a relentless beat. Just less flamboyant. But a whole lot of fun.

More after the jump...

First off, that's what Hoboken is like? I had no idea! It's kinda cool ... very un-New York.

Maxwell's itself kind of reminds me of a dank little room where we used to go see shows in college (which, and, a cursory search shows Traxx is closed! As is Star Hill! Aw, this makes me a little sad.), cozy and unpretentious, and hipply rundown. The band came on stage one by one through the crowd, with drummer number one (they have two) ascending first and commencing a tribal beat that ceased at few times during the night. There was no preamble, just rock.

Their sound is noisy, punk/funk, garage rock, with undertones of equal parts paranoia and fun. Lead singer/guitarist Mick Collins was clad in a T-shirt reading "You Are Being Watched."

more after the jump ...

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I got a last minute invite to see Spinto Band last Thursday, which I jumped at, because these guys are superfun live. The last time I saw them, they went on at 2 a.m. and they were the seventh band I had seen that evening. But they still rocked it.

A quick nod to the Epochs, who opened; you were serviceable and minor key-ish.

Spinto Band took the stage and my friend CD marveled that there were "so many dudes" on the stage. They're a six-piece with the energy and stage presence of a twelve-piece and a median age, evidently, of 14. Seriously, these kids are young.

From the get go, hand claps and all, these kids are jazzed to be performing. They're playful and vibrant onstage, and everyone is moving just about all of the time. The lead guitarist in particular has a funny technique wherein he does the Pete Townsend windmill, but moves his arm only below the elbow. "Demented Buddy Holly," is how my friend describes him. The bassist (who is also one of the main vocalists!) also makes the craziest faces.

A few songs in, they break into "Brown Boxes," a kazoo classic and one of my favorites. The herky jerky robot movements of the band perfectly fit their quirky, off-kilter sound. They play a lot of their newer songs (there's a new album coming out soon-like), which are just as frantic and peppy as their old stuff. The mood coming from the stage is so joyous all night, even when the subjects they're happily chirping about veer into the dark.

Early on in the night, there isn't a whole lot of banter, but the band gets chattier as the night goes on. At one point, we take a moment of silence for Brooklyn Lager. Apparently, while Bowery Ballroom had the local beer on tap the night before, they had run out Thursday night, and replaced it with Blue Point Toasted Ale. Which I must say is as tasty.

Wait a minute. Are these kids old enough to drink?

Back to the show. The extended beer talk was to fill up time while guitarist Nick Krill (the very same "demented Buddy Holly" referenced above) tuned up his mandolin for "Oh Mandy." My buddy CD raised the possibility that Oh Mandy = mandolin, which I had never thought of before, but I like it, so I'm going to accept it as truth.

What I love about the Spinto Band is their really interesting, tight harmonies, which give off a gleeful feeling of psychosis. And they toss it all off effortlessly in their live show, belying the fact that they must practice, like, ten hours a day to be able to play that tightly and make it look effortless.

They end their set with, and I'm quoting directly from my notes here, "that one song that I can never remember the name of with the fast part but I love it." In other words, "Direct to Helmet," which is quite clearly the first line of the song.

eh.www.amNY.com

Due to poor planning, I ended up getting to the show embarrassingly late. Which sucked, because what I saw was really good, and I wish I could have seen more of it.

But I did catch "New Soul." Twice. The MacBook Air star played the song as part of her regular set, leading a spirited sing-along, and again during her encore. My guess is that she just plain ran out of songs; she apparently played for more than an hour.

I still maintain that the song is only as good as it is because of her adorable accent, but fact is, it's a charming song. As is she a charming young woman. Her delivery and interaction with the crowd was nothing but gracious.

And, she has other songs! Which are just as good, if not more. Her sound, as you might expect from her background (Israeli ex-pat living in Paris), is cosmopolitan with a dash of Mediterranean spice. There was one song where she rhymed between French and English to cute comedic effect.

I wish I had more for you, but I was late and didn't take notes. But it was a good show. Don't get turned off by the hype.

eh.www.amNY.com

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So the biggest little concert celebrating the independent music scene (PLUG founder Gerry Heart was clear to make a distinction between the "independent community" and "indie rock" when I spoke to him last week) went down last Thursday. After a hellacious day in the office, I made it out to catch a good portion of the show.

In a daze, concert-going buddy no. 1 (heretofore known as c-gbn1, which serendipitously makes her sound like a robot) and I entered the cavernous Terminal 5 just as St. Vincent was wrapping up her set. While I procured delicious refreshment, I noticed St. V sounds vaguely Bjorkian. Good for her. The kids like Bjork.

After her (short) set, there was a screening of a Michael Showalter video, which I thought was kind of an odd choice of entertainment, considering that these things were all over the internet in the weeks before, and people interested enough to be at the PLUGs had probably already watched them on Stereogum, or some such. Part of my issue with Terminal 5 is that it's just too big. With things like this, and later, Patton Oswalt's patter and award announcements, which didn't out and out demand the attention of the room, everyone just tuned out, semi-patiently waiting for the next band to begin.

"Jesus Christ! I feel like my dad at a rave," said Oswalt, trying in vain to capture the ears of the room before announcing the Forms. Who, for their part, were very calming to those who might still be wound up from a very busy day at work. They played a couple of minor-key rock songs.

More after the jump ...

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amNewYork's Max Dickstein with a concert report:

Bowery Ballroom was filled to the gills for Vampire Weekend’s record release
concert late last night.

“It’s really a pleasure to play these songs in New York City — the city
where they were conceived, and midwifed,” said lead singer Ezra Koenig,
tuning his oversized guitar during a buzzing pause between short, crisp
run-throughs of a small and pleasing collection of happy tunes.

Near the lip of the elevated stage, the crowd’s arms rose higher and waved
more furiously with each fresh, two-to-three-minute blast of a new favorite
ditty. Everywhere were girls in dark winter clothing and bearded white guys
with messenger bags.

The show, coinciding with the band’s self-titled debut album, out this week,
felt less like the start of something than the middle of a multi-city tour.
That’s because Vampire Weekend’s MySpace uploads, critical success and
aggressive schedule of concert-opening performances (for the New
Pornographers, and next, the Shins) has helped the band gather admirers of
its 11-song catalog for over a year.

Indeed, the first chords of several songs last night touched off a
chatter of recognition in the darkness of the audience.

The band projected unreserved enjoyment of their task of entertainment.

It was a happy night.

Max, www.amny.com

Full disclosure: I sat at a table with Thorn's publicist and was so close to the stage I felt too self-conscious to pull out my notebook, thus, no notes. Also, after the show, Thorn told me he liked my smile.

The show was a lot of fun. Thorn himself is a very personable guy onstage and off, and his countrified blues compositions tell captivating and sometimes very personal stories. The son of a Pentecostal minister and a former boxer, Thorn has done a lot of living, and it shows both in the way he carries himself and the things he has to talk about.

What I was really taken with in his performance was the balance he struck between earnestness and humor. There was a lot of "let's love each other" and "give thanks to the Lord that you're alive," but he also joked about the "approximately 151 women" who've dumped him over the years and threatened the press with eternal damnation if they gave him a bad review (I probably should have included that fact in the disclosure as well). His banter was never preachy but it was never "novelty act" either.

But beyond the character, there was the music. Though it's not the kind of stuff I usually listen to, I really enjoyed it. He has an authentic and heartfelt presentation, not to mention considerable skill, both vocally and on the guitar. His style is somewhere between an edgier John Mayer and "Steamroller"-era James Taylor — which is to say, a lot of people can do the Southern blues rock thing adequately, but Thorn has the chops and depth of feeling to keep it exciting and fresh.

I actually think that both my mom and my dad would really enjoy Thorn's music (my mom likes music that tells stories, especially if they're funny, and my dad likes rockin' blues), which is not slap the dreaded "adult contemporary" label on the whole production; they're just two people I thought of who would have enjoyed last night's show. 'Cause they're hip, you know. (I may get in trouble for this. Hi, family!)

Anyway, if you're a too cool New Yorker, you're going to be too cool for this. But if you can open up and have a little joyful fun, well, you're gonna have a good time.

eh.www.amNY.com

Lewis was the second half of a two-part showcase for Rough Trade, but I unfortunately missed the first part. Basia Bulat was wrapping up her set as I walked in the door. But the 20 seconds I heard were lovely.

While I hung out waiting for the next set, I had the following thought: One thing about Joe's Pub is that if you don't score a table (and as a chronic latecomer, I rarely do), their standing room is a little awkward. It's basically the space in front of the bar — with the consequence that there's a wall of people between a thirsty audience member and her drink. And there's the issue of where to stand so that it doesn't feel like you're hovering over people lucky enough to be seated, or standing in anyone's way. A minor grievance, however. I do think that Joe's Pub is a pretty nice place to see a show.

Lewis took the stage with a cute story about overhearing someone utter the following phrase: "I mean, don't fucking touch my yoga mat." As he said, aggro yoga is so New York.

His music definitely has that Sidewalk Cafe anti-folk vibe: deadpan lyrics and frank language discussing social inequity that manages to be both incredibly angry and "so over it" at the same time. The sound is raw and unpretty. Which is not at all a criticism. He does it well.

The politics he espoused had a typical (for the scene) anti-capitalist bent, but he gave the issue a smart and thoughtful treatment. Now it could be the fact that many of his views aligned with my own that I enjoyed it so much. (UNRELATED DIGRESSION: I read a really good article in the New Yorker the other day about the decline of reading, and among its many excellent points, it brought up the fact that people are far more likely to continue reading something that they don't agree with than they are to continue watching something that they don't agree with, which has to do with the delivery of words visually as opposed to aurally. Maybe that's why Republicans don't like folk music.)

More after the jump...

From our friend Emily Ngo:

Now, I’m not going to pretend I’m any sort of orchestra buff, but I know it’s not commonplace to come across a beatbox flautist.

But I met Gregory Pattillo at the Broadway-Lafayette train stop this weekend and was pretty impressed. He was accompanied by his buddy on cello, and the harmony made it impossible not to at least bob your head to. His newest album is called “My House.” Check out pattillostyle.com for more on this mini-phenomenon.

And good news: He apparently also gives lessons.

Emily Ngo, www.amNY.com

More from "Other Emily":

Also at 169 Bar was a crowd-pleasing trio called Jagwire. Wow, did the crowd love them. Spitting lyrics that are easy and fun to sing along to, Eric and Josh on vocals were refreshingly dynamic. Thom, whose arms are probably the most pliable I’ve ever seen, rocked so hard on drums that he had to remove his shirt-and-tie ensemble halfway through the set.

Jagwire was alternative with just enough pop to appeal to the masses. I liken them to The White Stripes. Their sound is much more mature than that of Corduroy Days, and the tempos of their many songs were well varied.

My favorite song was “You Should Have Seen Her,” which was slow and witty. I can’t wait to see them again.

Emily Ngo, www.amNY.com

Special correspondent Emily Ngo was out and about last night. Here's what she saw:

I came across a great band completely by chance last night at 169 Bar on the Lower East Side.

Corduroy Days hails from Brooklyn. They harmonize quite well; I haven’t heard men and women’s voices blend that smoothly in a while. (But then again, I’m usually all about the solo artists.) Corduroy Days has a sensitive sound, slow in the right places and quirky when it needs to be. Romantic and folky, it seems inspired by early Bob Dylan or Woody Guthrie.

I liked “Donor” for its original lyrics. The band definitely isn’t afraid to try out the repetition, parallelism route. (“ ’Cause every part of you is such a part of me is such a part of you.”) “Walk Away” also won me over, but you have to put up with the first couple seconds of weird howling.

Props to the super, super energetic bass player. Their album is called “Lose the Map;” you’ll like it.

Emily Ngo, www.amNY.com

(From their Nov. 2 show, via Getty Images)

Duran Duran finished up their nine-night New York run last night, at Roseland Ballroom. The show was moved from their Broadway home at the Barrymore due to the strike.

The following occurred to me last night: Pop stars have to take themselves deadly seriously, even (especially) if what they're doing is the silliest thing imaginable (and it often is). If they don't sell it 100%, we're not going to buy it at all.

Also, don't sing with your hands in your pockets; you look bored.

The show was divided into two parts. During the first, they played stuff from their recent album, "Red Carpet Massacre." It wasn't awful. If it came on in a club, you'd probably think, "Hey, this sounds a lot like Duran Duran." But you wouldn't think much else about it. The thing is, their newer stuff manages to sound very "in the style of Duran Duran" without being too repetitive of what's come before. But there's nothing very special about it.

It didn't really help that the band wasn't doing much to sell it. Simon Le Bon seemed alternately bored of and impatient with the proceedings. The staging was blah; the guys all stood in their place, with Le Bon occasionally attempting perfunctory dance moves and a back up singer shunted off to the side, as if to make it perfectly clear, she's NOT part of the band, guys. She actually did seem, energy-wise, like she was performing with a different band, one that might have been having far more fun.

Transitions between songs were made with workman-like banter, one sentence introductions, and the whole thing had a very efficient feel about it. Le Bon called some song I didn't recognize, "one of the most renowned dance songs in the whole world."

The new stuff was very Eurotrash-pop clubby, which makes sense, as that's a sound they helped invent originally. They've gotten just about exactly the same with age.

I feel like I'm being harsh here, and the truth is, I did have a good time. It's just that the first half pales in comparison with the second.

Follow me after the jump...

Here's a video recap of the 2007 MTVu Woodie Awards:

eh.www.amNY.com

Amy Winehouse was supposed to headline, so I got myself credentialed right quick. Then she backed out for whatever visa, drug, life issues that she's having. So she wasn't performing.

Alright, let me back up here. MTVu is the Music Television's college rock channel. The Woodies are their annual award show giving out accolades like "Viral Woodie" and "Left Field Woodie." From what I can tell, the awards are voted on by anyone who chanced upon the MTVu website.

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The staff totally wanted you (and by you, I mean the press, i.e. me) to have a good time, plying us with drink vouchers, which would be taken advantage of by the time the night was through. The press pit overlooked the talent pen, and we the press were way out cooled by the actual rock stars. I'd never seen that many cool 'dos so far uptown before.

The show opened explosively (to clarify, the event was an awards show with performances and commercial breaks interspersed — it was being live broadcast on MTVu) with a performance by Lupe Fiasco featuring "surprise guest Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy." (<- From the press release; I don't think I'd recognize a Patrick Stump if it lit my hair on fire.) Thus the stage was set for a night of anthropological observation.

I felt way out of place. The room was full of college kids — when presenter Keenan Thompson (yeah, random, right?) asked the crowd to make some noise "if you're in college right now," just about everyone did. And the music, oh the music. There were some good acts performing, but most of what was name-checked and about all the winners weren't so much cool, indie, college as over-produced, already-mainstream, corporate. Fall Out Boy? Gym Class Heroes? Plain White Ts?

But, after getting all prickly in my notebook — I actually wrote down "MTV makes me cranky" — I decided to dial it back and try give the show a fair shake.

I sound less old after the jump...

Friday night I managed to hit seven bands! I'm very proud of that, if you couldn't tell.

I started the night off at Arlene's Grocery, arbitrarily picking that spot 'cause I really like the venue.

A band called Tom Schrader and His Ego was playing as I walked in. I'd never heard of them before I walked in the door. They played basic acoustic Americana folk, and the lead singer, who I'd assume is the eponymous Tom, sounded a little like Zach Condon of Beirut in his timbre and inflection. He's also very cute in an All-American kind of way.

They were followed by Unique Chique. Off the bat, I kind of hate their name. They play basic rock and roll that, truthfully is a little boring, although some of their stuff shows promise (and oddly enough, very influenced by Bjork — interesting phrasing and rhythms), and they have some cool bass lines going on. In a year or two, if they get more comfortable playing together (their stage presence was very, well, not there), these guys could be pretty cool. They left the stage with a, "This is our favorite town on earth. Don't tell Chicago."

After the jump, we head on over to Mercury Lounge...

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First off, Terminal 5 is HUGE. It is just massive. Really, really, really big. For those of you that don't know, the brand new mega club is the latest addition to the Bowery Presents family, and is situated in the building that used to house the dance club Exit.

Staying true to its loungey roots, the two balcony levels have couches and tables strewn across the floor — although to see the treatment they received on Thursday night, I wonder how long those pieces of furniture last; kids (your correspondent included) were standing on anything and everything they could find some balance on just to get a glimpse of the stage. Which, brings up the point: The sightlines in the club are not optimal. If you don't get a spot on the railing, it's pretty hard to see from upstairs. Lower level is your basic open box; feels similar to the floor at Hammerstein.

So, yeah, to sum up: Space is big. But M.I.A. totally took control of the room. Her global, world beat, dance rock, hip-hop sound got everybody grooving, and she seemed to be devoting every ounce of energy she had to her performance. There was not a moment she was up there that she wasn't dancing her little butt off and/or inciting the crowd to frenzy. She's an engaging force of nature, basically. The breaks between songs were filled with chanting with the crowd, over that ubiquitous machine gun noise she uses so well.

more after the jump...

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I only caught the end of the Le Loup set, but they were excellent. Really good. High energy, tight playing with a real dreamy pop sound. After a song or two, I realized that there were way more people (eight, to be exact) on stage than I originally thought. But they were all put to good use; the doubling up of guitarists and vocals and everything creates a live indie "wall of sound."

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The Papercuts were up next. I wasn't so into them. When they announced that they were from San Francisco, I kind of rolled my eyes and thought to myself, "Of course they are." Very hippie-dippy sound — they were capable, but not my thing. They have a dreamy, downtempo, psychedelic vibe.

The bassist was one interesting looking dude, though. Long and lanky with a haggard old man face that looks like he's seen some things.

eh.www.amNY.com

The CMJ coverage is still trickling in — man that was a rough week — so watch this space for reports from the weekend.

Special correspondent Lane Johnson weighs in on his Wednesday and Thursday night (complete with his photos).

I showed just in time for the Cool Kids, and they were just that. If there's an "80's rap for dummies" book out there, no doubt this Chicago duo has studied it — and if there's not, they should write it, even if they are, like, 12.

And if the Cool Kids put on an eponymous show, so did — unfortunately — follow up act and fellow Fool's Gold label mate, Kid Sister. There's no better analogy than the little sister who goes through an older siblings stuff, smearing on hot pink lipstick here, putting a fuchsia leg warmer on there and not exactly sure how to tie up that top. That's how it sounded to me at least — a series of under-enunciated and too-quick rhymes over too-techno club beats. But she WAS fast — I mean the bvpm (that's body
vibrations per minute) of Kid Sister are in the thousands.

And A-Trak? Just killed it — totally restored my faith in dj's. That is
until I heard he's dating Kid Sister...

More of Lane's photos here.

His Thursday night report after the jump ...

Special correspondent Emily Ngo:

They’re young (twin brothers Matt and Jesse Kivel are but 22), but they have a surprisingly mature sound. Princeton, like the Jersey Ivy League school, is a simple, comforting mix of folk and pop. Their lyrics are witty and original, especially with hit “The Indifference Curve.”

Princeton played an enthusiastic show at Union Hall on Saturday night, but afterward, like the California guy he is, Jesse was enthusiastic about the venue’s bocce ball courts. He also complimented the crowd and the neighborhood. Optimism all around.

They’re fresh, they’re determined and they’re very, very impressive. Check them out.

Emily Ngo, www.amNY.com

Special correspondent Sara:

The Biffy Clyro show started about 30 mins. late, but we were there to see some Datarock, so, at that point, we were only waiting for them to leave the stage. However, when the shirtless Simon Neil got on stage, looking like a coke-metal version of Devendra Banhart, I got somewhat interested. They were poppy at some points, but then had brief interludes of face-melting guitar ... noise.

At some point, Simon's mic stopped working, so, of course, he threw it on the floor and went to the other mic. More face-melting, more pop-rock, the sound is off, the mics go in and out of working ... then, the lights go up and the filler music starts playing, but Biffy hasn't had enough ... so they play over the filler music. They finish that song and, again, the lights go up and the filler music starts playing ... they start playing again, the filler music gets louder ... the lights are still up. The band leaves, except for Neil ... who grabs a mic stand and throws it to the ground. He grabs a mic and throws it over the audience straight at the sound guys. He's lost it. He grabs another mic stand, takes the mic and throws it over the audience. My friends say this mic hit someone in the audience. I just hear a thud.

Datarock takes the stage. They're in their red track suits, hoods up. They look so cool. The tall guy who was standing next to us, head banging at the Biffy concert, is the sax player/keyboardist. The band seems immensely happy to be here. They play "Computer Camp Love," "Bull Dozer," "I Used To Dance With My Daddy," and finally, "Fa-Fa-Fa," which turns into an epic sing-along.

The crowd is singing the chorus and Fredrik Saroea, the front man, is singing the verses. The band is rocking over the singing. Saroea says, "Wow. This is the coolest thing ever. Thank you! Thank you New York!"

"Fa-Fa-Fa" keeps playing, the saxophonist is amazing, the drummer does the snake on stage, the crowd is jumping. The song is over and we want more. But the set is over, and nothing will top what we just saw. But then, they pull out a song that has possibly never been abused in this way before. They play "Time Of My Life," by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes. At this point, the boys are lip synching, but more importantly, they are showing off their track suits and their back sides and stripping off each other's hoodies. They are hamming it up on stage, when the sax solo comes on. Nobody is really sure if the sax player is actually playing along with the track, but it looks and sounds like it.

It's the best ending to a concert ... possibly ever.

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