The CMJ Music Marathon & Film Festival is offering up to 35 percent off badges for this year's event through this Monday, March 1. Artists interested in performing at CMJ can also submit now exclusively through Sonicbids. Those who do so before March 31 can submit for only $35 and are automatically considered for early selection.

Early birds looking to purchases badges now can save either as a student or as a general registrant. CMJ is also giving students group discounts, available for 10 or more people, while non-students can purchase four badges and get the fifth one free.

The 2010 festival will be held Oct. 19-23 in New York City and will feature over 1,200 artists and more than 100.000 attendees. Over 75 of the city's clubs and theaters will be booked to house the five-day affair. Not only will CMJ showcase musicians, but will include avant-garde films and informative panels as well. Attendees can also look forward to meet and greets, mentoring sessions, seminars, exclusive parties, networking events, Q&As and community initiatives.

JamPlay, an online music education community where users can take guitar lessons via both previously recorded videos and live broadcasts, has a special offer running right now that includes a free, seven-day trial membership and webcam Q&A sessions with Dream Theater's Jordan Rudess.

JamPlay is an innovative site that allows members access to 360 hours of lessons from 33 teachers. In addition, over 12 hours of live webcam lessons take place every day. After each lesson is completed, JamPlay provides the user with an in-depth printout featuring tabs, photos and text to study later on. All of this material is now available through the free trial. Membership costs $19.95 a month (or less with a quarterly or yearly subscription).

Rudess will be appearing in two more sessions: Friday, Feb. 24, from 8 to 10 p.m. EST and Tuesday, March 2, from 3 to 5 p.m. EST. The first session took place at the beginning of the month. To register for the Rudess webcam session, visit www.jamplay.com/jordan.

Out of the barren desert of Fresno, Calif., comes forth a three piece proclaiming the good news - a message of chainsaw guitar buzz and piston-pumping skins.

A voice cries out, "Have you heard the word?" And if your answer to Fay Wrays' howler Ben McEntee is, "No, I have not," then lucky you.

Because here it is, loud and clear.

A swaggering, lunging call to arms, "The Word" - the sixth song on DIY outfit the Fay Wrays' debut Mata Hari - draws a line in the sand, a black and white divide of what hardcore is and what it can be.

What it can be, it turns out, is a violent but melodic concoction of rhythmic grooves, distorted riffing and brainy anecdotes. You were expecting ear-piercing screams? No worries. They are many.

A 42-minute, eight-song rush of adrenaline and ear bleed, Mata Hari thrives on the tight interplay of the musical powers on display: McEntee's barrage of heavy chords, Paul Harper's thudding bass lines and, binding it all together, Eli Reyes' force-of-god drumming.

Album opener "Transubstantiate the Sound" is at once the most immediate and least indicative of the record's compositions. It harnesses the lean forward momentum of Queens of the Stone Age's no-let-up Nick Oliveri screamers, but contains little of the nuanced instrumentation present in everything that follows.

That said, the squealing feedback dripping off McEntee's building chord progression in the bridge is the kind of thought-out subtlety that sets the Fays apart from their amp-blowing brethren. They produce noise aplenty, but not a wasted sound.

More representative, "Broken Wings," a highpoint on an album of highpoints, begins with thump-tat-tat percussion and a nimbly picked six-string dressed up all bright and poppy.

Just as you put your finger on the influence - yeah, sounds like Fugazi, maybe Shellac - a wall of punishing discord takes a sledgehammer to said influence and the very thought process that brought you to this conclusion. Likewise, "Weatherman's" bouncing melody and catchy refrains surrender to bracing shrieks and fuzzed-out guitar squall. McEntee growls a paranoid mantra - "to eat your young" - in lockstep with deck-clearing staccato riffs...and then simply goes off.

He wails the climactic chorus a la "Bulls on Parade" amidst a wall of hell-breaks-loose guitar clatter.

In moments such as these, to break stuff is to be human.

"That angry, crushing sounding guitar - I like the mood it sets," says Chad Darby, bassist for Gainesville, Fla. shoegazers Averkiou. "The energy is there. They're ripping heads off right out of the gate."

Yet in this ferocity, a coherent pattern emerges, as it does with the rest of Mata Hari. Spry, clean notes give way to pounding power chords. Pretty, high-pitched passages yield to gutter-lurking, minor chords. Loud, aggressive verses dovetail into louder, more aggressive choruses. These deliberate ebbs and flows attest to the band's knack for structure and innate feel for how to exact maximal impact from both song and album.

"Lozenge," for one, stands out in both its internal arrangement and its integral effect on the record as a whole. On its own, the song is an understated "ballad" - if such a thing could exist with the Fays - that inevitably builds into a charging epic of a rocker. Thoughtfully positioned after a mauling opening trio, "Lozenge's" quieter half offers the lone breather on the album and as such, adequately replicates the gasping seconds after being popped in the lower sternum.

The same is true of "Scottish Lad," which plays a hushed, starkly adorned first verse against the weightiest havoc this side of a falling house. Harper plays a chugging, sub-Sabbath bass that lays a rumbling undercurrent for hissing guitar spasms and Reyes' splashing hi-hats. It's all absolutely disorientating, deafening and glorious - like being trapped in a terrible fun house or slung headlong into a howling funnel cloud.

The music's raw authority, of course, matches the attack-mode fervor of its creators. The Fays adhere to a rigid, do-it-yourself doctrine cultivated from a few well-spent years blowing the doors off of sweaty clubs and dank basements. So it's of little surprise that their conviction - conviction to "the word" - comes through in the sinister derision of "Risk" and visceral declarations of "This Song's About Brotherly Love."

"They pass that intangible 'are you full of it or not' test," says Dave Drobach, bassist for Gainesville's Grabass Charlestons and production manager at No Idea Records. "I believe that they believe it."

And when McEntee lets loose a yowling, "Take the time to understand me!" during Mata Hari's final brutal minutes, you suspect that the Fays not only believe it, but they might just win a few converts to their cause.

Music Hates You, the self-proclaimed angriest band in Athens, isn't guilty of hyperbole. Stripped to rock 'n' roll's essence, a raw guitar-bass-drums trio, Music Hates You's performance was deafeningly loud and seething with rage - in a word, primal.

Guitarist and singer Noah Ray enveloped the entirety of the cramped bowling alley bar area where the band played with the sheer strength of his voice. Though he occasionally sang, much of his vocal work was non-melodic, characterized by thunderous bellowing and savage screams.

What truly made Ray's stage presence so intense, however, was the visible connection between his lyrics and his facial expressions. It's hard to explain without staring at him face-to-face, but his gaze was perpetually piercing, as if he wanted to rip open the soul of each audience member. (Or perhaps I got on that train of thought upon reading the slogan "You have failed as an audience" on his amp.) During the encore, he cast his off-white Epiphone SG to a friend in the front row and proceeded to storm across the bar counter and scream in people's faces. And yes, he jumped on me. And it was awesome.

Ray's guitar style, though fast, to the point and in the vein of punk rock, also included elements of sludge metal. Drummer Erin Stagg mercilessly beat the shit out of his minimal kit, which was comprised of a mere two cymbals and two toms, while bassist Forest Hetland III would often play dense, complex countermelodies to Ray's rawer guitar work.

The Paradise provided the perfect backdrop for the annual charity event that is now notoriously known as Rodfest. Gregory "Rodney" Moynahan died tragically in car accident in 2000 and his cousin (and Three Day Threshold frontman) Kier Byrnes launched the bash to keep Moynahan's memory alive, while simultaneously celebrating the joy of music.

This year's bands included Colin Toomey and Kevin McDevitt, Chatham Sessions, Sam Reid and the Riot Act and the always feel-good indie act, Death and the Dance Machine. Folk rockers Quixote joined the affair this year, flaunting their intense vocals and classic sound, while belting out songs like the spastic "Hubris" and peaceful "Owls."

Rodfest veterans, Cassavettes, graced us with epic favorites like "Debts" and "Research Blvd." To actually envision their sound, think the energy of the Gin Blossoms with more stripped-down, banjo-filled melodies. Their choruses are catchy and irresistible. Last, was Three Day Threshold. Toting their trademark Americana sound, the fivesome belted out the fast paced "Uni," and the more soothing "I Must Admit." The night was also a release party for Three Day Threshold's latest record, Straight Outta The Barrel. They wrapped up the set with the Johnny Cash cover "Folsom Prison Blues," as they often do during their shows. Overall, it was a fun night for a superb cause.

I have no idea how many people were in the Eagle Tavern, but I left dripping with sweat - not all of it being my own. To get just a glimpse of any of the bands I had to heave my body through an almost solid mass of onlookers. It's not surprising, however, that so many people showed up, it was one of the strongest lineups I've seen and the show made obvious the fact that the Bay Area is home to a handful of truly excellent bands.

Ty Segall opened and played a respectable, head-bopping set. I've seen him evolve from a one-man-band to a three-piece and it's great to hear him with a full band. His songs deserve it.

Ganglians were up next and put on a more mellow, but transcendent set. I kept thinking about Jim James, but with a beat that makes you want to stomp and swivel. Although I heard a couple of people begrudging their sound that night, I thought the setting stripped things down to reveal some wonderful songcraft that is often overpowered on their recordings.

By the time Thee Oh Sees took the stage, the room had turned from a spongy mass to a rock-solid one. Drummer Mike Shoun wore a black Goner Records T-shirt in memory of Jay Reatard and Heather, Jay's lover, was invited onto the stage to perform a Reatard song. It was a fitting arena to mourn the loss of such a great contributor to rock 'n' roll. Thee Oh Sees took the stage and, like usual, did not disappoint. The band has a way of putting their whole bodies into performances (including John Dwyre swallowing the microphone) that is exhilarating.

Mayyors went on last. Before seeing them that night, they had been only a legend since they have no MySpace and no record (that I know of). They certainly put on a legendary show that was so hard and fast I couldn't resist pushing my way up to the stage to pump my fist a little.

Photos by Mark Jayson Quine

When the Middle East Upstairs is packed before a show even starts, you know something good is about to happen. Mikey French Fries (and the Casual Encounters) started the show with some great alt-country and old-fashioned classic rock, two styles that remained throughout the night. Even when the music morphed to rock more than anything else, a country feel still permeated it.

The crowd was most wound up before Movers & Shakers took the stage. Working around the absurd posted rules for dancing, the crowd was way into the whole set - it was so full of energy it was hard to not be dragged in. The whole band - from the woodsy, flannelled Dan Wallace on bass, to the ever-entertaining Marc Valois on guitar, organ and vocals - rocked the entire time. Playing many tracks from their record, Larrabee, Movers and Shakers' set was textbook for how to attract new fans and keep the energy high, the songs upbeat and the crowd invested.

Nina Violet and her band took the stage after and M&S and were definitely the most laid-back of the acts on the bill. The harmonic singing of Nina and (occasionally) of her sister Marciana Jones was a highlight of the night. Both have wonderful, beautiful voices and their singing absorbed the room's attention.

Drug Rug, who are sometimes touring and always adored for their live shows, put on an entertaining and upbeat performane. Singer Sarah Cronin knows how to entertain, whether she's dancing, flailing or just letting her voice do all the work. They made their way through a long set of new and old, many from 2009's Paint the Fence Invisible. It was a great show, proving once again you don't necessarily have to be doing something new to be doing something great.

The 2010 Indiegrrl Songwriting Contest is currently underway and calling female songwriters of all genres to submit their original works (including instrumental compositions) up until March 1. Submitted works will be judged on a point system according to originality, musical arrangement and lyrics (for pieces with words).

There is no limit on the number of submissions per entrant, though each costs $10.

The top five winners will be notified by April 30 and will receive prizes to be determined. The winners will also receive a free pass to attend the 2010 Indiegrrl International Music & Arts Conference and Festival in Knoxville, Tenn., on Aug. 22, as well as a showcase slot. The first place winner will receive their choice of two showcase spots during the Indiegrrl events. Winners will also get their song published on the 2011 Indiegrrl compilation CD, as well as an individual retail page on the new Indiegrrl Records online retail store. All proceeds collected through the Indiegrrl Songwriting Contest will be donated to the development of the Indiegrrl Music and Art Camp for Children. For more submission information, visit Indiegrrl, or submit through Sonicbids .

William House (no relation to the mag's publisher) recently had a Marshall amp head stolen from the North Beacon Street Sound Museum rehearsal complex in Brighton.

The model and serial are:

Marshall JCM 800 Lead Series - 2210 100W head
Serial Number: S/A-V06536

If anyone has any info or comes across the amp head, you can e-mail William House at x-0-x@earthlink.net.

The Milkman's Union opened the night. Their mix of delicate melodies and syncopated rhythms created a sort of sonic static charge in the room. Songs would drift into a whisper, then pop - the drums would explode like firecrackers and the song would swell again. Each seemed thoughtfully crafted, well-built and nicely arranged.

Spouse has been part of the local indie scene for years. They're loved by many and quite a few showed up on this winter Wednesday night to prove it. Jose Ayerve writes songs that'll get even the most bashful feet tapping, the stiffest hips swaying. The lineup is fluid, but that night he had Ken Maiuri on bass and JJ O'Connell behind the kit. I've never seen Spouse play a show that was anything less than amazing and this was no exception. Maiuri's bass playing was flawless. Every note was right were it needed to be so that Ayerve could dance around it with his guitar and his voice. His singing has a way of reaching right into your gut and pulling. He draws the notes out across the top of the song, like they're coming in off the shore as some sort of siren call.

The highlight of the whole night, though, was when they played "Spouse Visits the World Bank." O'Connell is a great drummer. He keeps tight control of his kit and can get any sound out of it, but when they did this tune he topped himself. He played it with a tambourine and a stick. He didn't just shake the tambourine, he played the whole kit with it. He played fills, rolls - everything. It was an amazing sight to behold. The entire night was excellent and when you throw in the fact that my wife and I had some of the cheesiest, most decadent nachos ever and a couple drinks for something like 20 bucks, I think you can argue it was paradise.

The Stork Club
Oakland, CA
Dec. 17, 2009

When I saw the Machetes at the Stork Club in Oakland a couple of weeks ago, I felt like I had just seen a unicorn. I wanted to take a picture and show all my friends what a great discovery I had made. Perhaps my often-jaded point of view led to this feeling of surprise since I never expect bands to be good, and perhaps this point of view also caused the stress that came after seeing this unadulterated performance. I began to have nightmares that the band would vanish into thin air and that no one would be treated to this experience again.

The Machetes came off as terrifically hard working and sincere. Moreover, the dynamic between co-front people Tessa Ridgeway and Keith Bishop was enchanting. When Ridgeway's sultry voice poured on top of Bishop's raspy one, it was like honey dripping over asphalt. I wanted to lick it, but I knew it might hurt.

The four piece has only been playing together for five months - two of which drummer Jake Harrower was trudging through the wilderness, earning a degree in forestry. That night however, the band's sound was cohesive and distinctive. Bishop also plays the drums for the Molestations, a Stooges-inspired psychedelic punk band (later that night they put on an excellent show in their own right). Bishop's knowledge of drumming came through in his guitar playing for the Machetes; he helped carry the rhythm and the melody. Tessa Ridgeway also added a unique and compelling sound with a layer of plucked mandolin leads that made me want to do more than bob my head - they made me want to get drunk and dance a jig. Both elements mixed perfectly with Harrower's song-driving drumbeats and bassist Nathan Shaw's complimentary bass lines. The band had complete control over tempo changes and rhythm that turned regular garage rock into something matchless.

Stone Church at Zion Hill
Newmarket, NH
Jan. 7, 2010

Nepotism should be one of the seven deadly sins. The idea that as the child of someone talented, you must be talented too is an absurd one. Therefore, it must be doubly hard for someone like Tao Rodriguez-Seeger (grandson of folk legend Pete Seeger) to convince folks he isn't just a poor man's imitation of old granpappy.

Tao, after joining the opening band for a few songs, ended up walking on stage in his New Jersey-style tight jeans and denim shirt (think the Boss circa 1984) and wasted no time. "We got a little murder ballad for you," was all he said before his four-man band busted into the more-rockabilly-than-folk "Long Neck Bottle." In fact, the only thing that seemed to be folksy about him at all during the entire night was his storytelling songs and his occasional political bent on covers like his father's "Bring 'em Home" and Jim Garland's "Harry Simms." He strummed his banjo like a rock star, howled into it, and jumped around on stage like a madman.

Raised in Nicaragua, it was no surprise he played some Spanish tunes, including an old caballero number. His voice, which is pleasant in English, is beautiful in Spanish. Tao sounded more at home singing in Spanish, although the audience seemed more at home listening in English. The only thing missing was a crowd as enthusiastic as Tao himself. After around an hour and a half on stage, Tao invited the openers (Chris Merenda and the Wheel Specials) up for a couple covers. He told the crowd that the show was basically over but that they would just stay up there and mess around for a while. Mess around they did, musically, but it was all business and it was all sorts of good.

Photos by Victoria Wilson

Thousands // The Middle East Upstairs // Cambridge, MA // Jan. 10, 2010

Prog-power trio Thousands pins back its ears and turns it up to 11. Drummer Brandon Philips adds a critical energy to an otherwise staid stage show, but guitarist Omar Kazmi holds the audience's eye. At 6'5", Kazmi is an imposing presence on stage, rarely looking up from under his messy curls. His fingers flit over the guitar's neck, striking so hard it's a wonder the strings don't break. While Thousands' guitar riffs can devolve into sloppiness, they require a degree of technical difficulty that would scare away many other musicians.

At first glance, it's difficult to square the image of Supriya Gunda with the enormous bass notes reverberating in my chest. She's tiny compared to Kazmi and Philips, a delicate-looking girl with a nose ring, nerdy glasses and a tousled ponytail plopped atop her head. But she absolutely dominates her instrument, manhandling a bass that almost seems too large for her. Philips is flawless on the drums, moving in and out of radical tempo changes with aplomb. His sticks splash off the cymbals, attached to long sinewy arms slashing through the air, and his fills show an inventiveness that's tinged with the practical considerations of keeping a prog-rock band on task.

Thousands remains in its embryonic stage; the band's set is EP-length, but the trio hasn't found time to lay down a proper album yet. If you enjoy being able to say "I saw a band when...," check out Thousands at venues around Boston as soon as you can.