Pitchfork

All photos by William Kirk

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. I'm eagerly anticipating Stern's debut album, 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 Svanängen's tender indie pop songs, were perfectly competent, but lacked any sort of magic. Svanängen 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.

Loney, Dear [Bowery Ballroom; 7 p.m.]

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).

Oxford Collapse [Bowery Ballroom; 8 p.m.]

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 Cansei de Ser Sexy ("this song is tough like a brick", she said before the band launched into "Art Bitch".)

CSS [Bowery Ballroom; 10 p.m.]

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, The Body, The Blood, The Machine, as well as old favorites like "No Culture Icons" and "It's Trivia", somehow managed to sound even more pumped than they do on record.

The Thermals [Bowery Ballroom; 11 p.m.]

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.

The Shins [Bowery Ballroom; 1 a.m.]