A Mainstream Music Label Tries for Some Indie Cred

The drink coasters at Arlene’s Grocery’s College Music Journal showcase on Wednesday night read: “BMI: Here’s to making the right choice!” Luckily, the irony that Broadcast Music, Inc. was hosting a mainly unsigned or independent band lineup didn’t get in the way of an incredible concert.

Your Black Star, hailing from Kentucky, sounded like the Mars Volta meets Incubus, furthered by their reverb and echo-heavy sound design. The crowd was pretty sparse and, as a result, the band lacked energy. The second performer, Brooke Waggoner, was one of the gems of the night and an obvious audience favorite, even though the audience was small. She was backed by a cello and violin, which created a full yet unconventional sound. It was very easy to get caught up in her honest, earnest lyrics and her raspy yet sweet voice.

Next came Team Goldie, a unique performer who was only backed up by his iPod—to whom he gave a heartfelt shout-out during his set. His iPod provided beats that were a mash-up of hip-hop and skater-punk, with him rapping or singing on top. Perhaps trying to compensate for his lack of backing band, he leapt, strutted, danced across stage, and even ran screaming through the crowd. Northern Room, a Wisconsin band that sounded like early U2 sprinkled with a touch of hallucinogenic drugs, followed Team Goldie. Their somewhat clichéd style was more than compensated for by the incredible passion of the front man who stomped and convulsed his way through the show.

Act number five was Tacks, the Boy Disaster, a band the person standing next to me claimed to be made up of “the sweetest boys on earth.” However, their music was relentless, deep and jam-bandy. They truly worked as an ensemble, grooving together, though each member had outstanding musical prowess on an individual level. Next, Seattle’s Barcelona graced the stage. Frontman Brian Fennell’s stellar piano playing drove the rest of the band through their haunting set. Instead of being purely distortion and overdrive, Barcelona had an inherent melodic inclination that in no way offset the emotion behind their music. I was lucky enough to lend Fennel my sweatshirt to help him balance his keyboard, and he proved as kind offstage as his melodies were passionate onstage. The show ended with the Silent Years, a full-sounding indie-rock band that demanded audience participation, either through handing out noisemakers to help with their song “Black Holes,” or by ending their set with a sing-along to Four Non Blondes’ “What’s Up.”

Nonetheless, I left the show unconvinced that most people were at the showcase for the music. BMI carries a lot of weight, both negative and positive, in the music world. As a result, I could see that some bands were intentionally schmoozing with the organizers of the show, while others brought loud defiant attention to the fact that BMI was behind the evening. As I left Arlene’s Grocery, I snatched a BMI drink coaster for myself. Someone sitting at the bar turned to me and said with a sad smile, “It’s sad it’s come to this, isn’t it?”