DEPARTURE: 12:17 p.m.
RETURN HOME: 3:03 a.m.
WEATHER REPORT: Kinda chilly and here we left our jackets home like big sillies.
BANDS SEEN: Four: Stars Like Fleas, Bring Back The Guns, Torche, Jesu. CMJ total: 31.
BANDS MISSED BECAUSE THEIR VAN BROKE DOWN: Philly's amazing Clockcleaner. Booo.
BEST SWAG: Nada. Why should the last day be any different than the first, eh? Maybe Goldberg got that extra hat.
BEST AMENITIES: Free pie! Even if we didn't eat any.
DORKIEST IRONIC QUOTE OF THE DAY: "You've neve heard of them? God, they were a band to watch on Stereogum!"
BEST FAKE RAVE: Maura's reports of glowsticks and clown wigs from the Justice show, which almost made us wish we had gone raving rather than shoegazing with Jesu. As did...
BEST "COVER": Justice putting the new French touch on Metallica's "Master Of Puppets," which we're sure was enjoyably ghastly even before they started dropping more Schoolhouse Rock-style "you can dance!" samples over it.
SUGGESTIONS FOR CMJ ATTENDEES: Heckling terrible bands will not actually make you look bad. It will actually make you a better music fan, as you will be more engaged than 98% of the sleepwalkers around you who are too bored/disaffected to care that some shitacular indie folk band or photocopy dance rock act is wasting minutes of their lives.
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CMJ STAFF: Obviously you can't euthanize an "important" "institution" like CMJ, but it needs a transfusion stat, whether it's bands that might actually tempt laypeople to leave the house, a slightly less stultifying air, or a few curveballs. With many of the best/most interesting bands playing daytime/late night parties not officially connected to CMJ and the actual CMJ gig guide reading like one big yawn, people were less enthused than ever as they trudged through five days of one middling indie combo after another. Especially those trapped in the blog echo chamber, where six or seven "influential" sites are pimping the same two or three negligible, unformed acts whose deficiencies—lackluster songs, poor onstage chemistry, all the usual stuff that comes from being hyped too soon, rather than a band finding its groove over time on the road—are apparent the minute they hit the stage for their first major showcase for the NYC biz mafia.

Even if CMJ is really 75% "networking" for most people (including getting drunk at house parties and eating on someone else's dime); even if people attached to the music industry have entitlement issues that would shame an heiress (who else expects to be constantly "wowed" more for contributing less?); and even if the formatting of CMJ has long been contrived, this kind of mass ennui over up and coming bands doesn't bode well for an already ailing enterprise (i.e. the music industry), biz folks and press alike treating the process of auditioning new bands as a business obligation spiked with occasional cocktails. The "suffocatingly cool" vibe talked up by some of the more delusional hypemongers out there was definitely not in effect, though a certain exhaustion brought on by diminished expecations was: Is it particularly surprising that most people merely shrugged when they learned their new blog rock emperors had no cardigans? If CMJ is the first warning shot that people are becoming weary/wary of the empty praise heaped indiscriminately on one mediocre band after another, in an ever-shortening press cycle, then maybe this lackluster year was worth it.
STILL, HOW MANY GREAT BANDS DID WE SEE?: Four. Yeah, out of 31, but still more than we expected.
WILL WE BE BACK NEXT YEAR?: 'Course. Provided it still exists.

DEPARTURE: 12:45 p.m.
RETURN HOME: 1:15 a.m.
WEATHER REPORT: Overcast and drizzling/raining, meaning at least we didn't smoke as much as on previous days.
BANDS SEEN: Five: [Some band whose name we never caught the name of but we wanna say Other Passengers. They weren't very good], Health (again), Mika Miko, Yeasayer, Black Kids (finally, right?). CMJ total: 27.
CELEBRITIES SIGHTED: Mike D from the Beastie Boys after Black Kids' set, wide-eyed and wizened and looking like a wrinkly hobbit, lost and frightened in Mordor, trying to escape before any of the hipster orcs noticed who he was.
NUMBER OF PEOPLE SPOTTED IN GIANT RUBBER MONSTER SUITS: Two. One looked like a giant tortoise with eczema and the other resembled a mutant parsnip.
FIRST THING SAID TO US WHEN WE MENTIONED TO SOMEONE THAT WE WERE GOING TO A BROOKLYN VEGAN PARTY: "Well, I hear he's actually very nice."
SECOND THING SAID TO US WHEN WE MENTIONED TO SOMEONE ELSE THAT WE WERE GOING TO A BROOKLY VEGAN PARTY: "Make sure you nail that d-bag in the nuts for me."
BEST COVER: Mika Mika ripping through the Misfits' "Attitude."
REALEST TALK OF THE DAY: "I wish they'd just keep playing Misfits songs."
AMOUNT SPENT RE-PURCHASING THE MISFITS CATALOG FROM ITUNES UPON RETURNING HOME DRUNK: $43
DID WE HEAR SIMIAN MOBILE DISCO AND JUSTICE AND DAFT PUNK SONGS AGAIN?: You betcha, but at least the DJ didn't play the wack "house edit" of Rage Against The Machine that the doof at the Fader party subjected us to. (That was like listening to dance music die a painful death right in front of you.)
BEST SWAG:Do free Bloody Mary's count?
WHO ON EARTH GIVES AWAY FREE BLOODY MARY'S?: Brunch joints and blogger parties apparently.
ENERGY DRINKS DRUNK: Zero. We finally swtiched to booze. (See above.) CMJ total: 12.
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CMJ STAFF: None. After having some guy's erect penis (honestly, dude!) shoved against our thigh during Black Kids' set, as the promoters attempted to squeeze as many people into the performance area as possible, we promise never again to complain about bouncers, exclusionary door policies, or turning away people with badges once the crowd gets out of control.
BIGGEST ASSHOLE MOMENT: Guy stage diving off of a table during previously mentioned Misfits cover, sending half the audience (and their drinks) sprawling. We know the usual routine at these shows—arms folded, gentle nod of approval, polite clapping...we're as guilty as anyone—is definitely lame, but being that guy, the one that tries to start an old-school circle pit in a crowded bar during a friggin' blog party...not a good look.

DEPARTURE: 1:45 p.m.
RETURN HOME: 2:30 a.m.
WEATHER REPORT: Another pleasantly warm fall day just perfect for strolling around Manhattan, thanks to the planet's ongoing environmental collapse.
NUMBER OF SHOWS MISSED BECAUSE WE'RE IDIOTS/WE LEFT WITHOUT THE ALL-IMPORTANT CMJ BADGE: One: Yeasayer and Simian Mobile Disco.
MOMENT WE REALIZED WE DIDN'T NEED THE BADGE FOR THIS PARTICULAR SHOW: When we were approximately halfway across the bridge back to Queens.
BANDS SEEN DESPITE IDIOCY: Seven: We Are Wolves, Cut Off Your Hands, Imperial Teen, Yo Majesty, Trail Of Dead, Jay Reatard, Dirtbombs. CMJ total: 22.
NUMBER OF PEOPLE WHO BITCHED TO US ABOUT THURSDAY BEING THE WEAKEST DAY: Seven.
NUMBER OF GOOD-TO-GREAT SETS WE SAW ANYWAY: Four.
BEST SWAG: Gawker videographer Alex Goldberg scored a bright yellow sweatshirt and a sweet fitted hipster baseball hat, which practically amounts to camouflage at some of these parties.
AMOUNT PAID FOR SHOW(S) ON TOP OF BADGE: $12, Jay Reatard/Dirtbombs @ the Mercury Lounge.
SHORTEST SET: Garage snot/fake Brit-punk Jay Reatard, at a hyper-compressed 15 minutes (give or take). Had you shown up just for Jay, you would have been paying almost $1 per minute. And it still would have been worth it.
ENERGY DRINKS DRUNK: Two. CMJ total: 12.
COLORFUL HOMELESS PEOPLE SIGHTED: One. A woman in an oversized blue sweatshirt and ripped yellow stretch pants on corner of 52nd St. and 9th Ave.
WHO IT ACTUALLY WAS UPON INQUIRING: Popular songstress M.I.A.
BIGGEST AUDIENCE AGE/BAND AGE DISPARITY: Imperial Teen. Which, as a fellow blogger noted, may have gone some way to explaining why said audience didn't seem to care very much that, you know, a band was on stage. Which pissed us off. Because they were good.
BAND THAT MADE YOU WONDER WHAT THE OFFSPRING OF NELL CARTER AND FATMAN SCOOP MIGHT HAVE BEEN LIKE: Florida rap duo Yo Majesty.
EXPOSED MAMMARIES SIGHTED: Two, belonging to one half of Yo Majesty.
APPROXIMATE AMOUNT OF TIME BEFORE YO MAJESTY'S EXPOSED MAMMARIES THING FINALLY STARTS GETTING CALLED OUT AS SHTICK: Approximately six weeks after CMJ.
CLASSY YO MAJESTY QUOTE FROM BROOKLYN VEGAN COMMENTS SECTION: "Why is it always the fugly people that get naked?"
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CMJ STAFF: Not a thing. Y'all were even very helpful in finding an extra CMJ guidebook after my first was stolen by my boss.
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE GODDAMNED VENUES INVOLVED IN THIS THING: Honestly, you need to stop holding "CMJ related" shows where you're only letting in four people with badges. No one should bitch about helping out their favorite bands financially, but as usual the badge is basically Charlie Bucket's golden ticket for those that manage to show up early and an ugly necklace for the rest of us.
BIGGEST ASSHOLE MOMENT: When we snapped at some poor cabbie because he was the 12th or 20th that day to tell us that he was "not going in that direction." Is CMJ finally starting to get to us?

DEPARTURE: 1:30 p.m.
RETURN HOME: 1:45 a.m.
WEATHER REPORT: Delightful enough to make you wish you were frolicking in a park rather than in a clammy bar watching some guy with a harmonica sing about deaaaaaaatttthhhh like he's flinching from a punch.
BANDS SEEN: Nine: O'Death, Peasant, the Airborne Toxic Event, Health, Ezra Furman and the Harpoons, Ponytail, Charlotte Sometimes, the Pack, Cobra Starship CMJ total: 15.
THEIR GENRES: Celtic thrash folk, singer-songwriter, serious emotive-face keyboard indie rock in matching black suits, noisy spazzes, people who own Modern Lovers records, best band in the universe, shitty emo, hyphy, shitty emo with a goddamn keytar.
BANDS YOU SHOULD SEE AGAIN THIS WEEK ONE OF THE 900 TIMES THEY'RE PLAYING: Health
BANDS YOU MISSED BUT SHOULD CHECK OUT IMMEDIATELY AS SOON AS THEY COME TO YOUR TOWN: Ponytail, the Pack.
BLOGGER GATHERINGS OBSERVED: Two: Gothamist party at the White Rabbit and Fader Sideshow.
DISPARITY BETWEEN NUMBER OF ATTENDEES AT BOTH EVENTS: Considerable.
POSSIBLE REASONS WHY: Obscure art-folk/singer-songwriters versus hipster approved "rising" noise/punk/indie bands. But mostly the rumor of free shit at Fader party.
BEST SWAG RUMOR: "Free Levis and Pumas at the Fader party!"
SWAG REALITY: Free Levis and Pumas ruthlessly guarded by surly guards with secondary swag guest list, leading to very disgruntled hoi polloi. (Considering they never have jeans long enough or shoes in my size, I was there for the music, man.)
ACTUAL FADER SWAG: Issues of the Fader. Just in case you wanted to know Devendra Banharts toilet habits or the right kind of promotional vodka to pair with your ugly, overpriced "streetwear."
ENERGY DRINKS DRUNK: Six. CMJ total: 10.
CELEBRITIES SIGHTED: Bob Balaban in a dirty Baltimore Ravens windbreaker walking down Houston St. at 4 p.m.
WHO IT ACTUALLY WAS UPON INQUIRING: Homeless man.
BEST SONG HEARD ALL DAY:

(Sorry, CMJ bands. You'll get there one day.)
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CMJ STAFF: Closing the registration office at 6 p.m. actually makes it hard for that small handful of attendees who actually a.) have jobs that are not related to being minor players in the music industry and b.) actually paid money (that could have gone to rent or booze) for their badges to pick them up in a timely manner, judging by the flustered woman on the sidewalk who arrived 15 minutes late and started cursing someone (who obviously couldn't have given a shit) out about the fact that she was going to miss some potentially life-changing indie rock band. You might wanna extend it to 8 p.m. each night next year to avoid pissing off the part of your customer base that's still dropping cash on this event because they actually love music. Crazy, we know.
MOST UNCOMFORTABLE MOMENT: Watching multiple old guys ("old" here meaning "over 50," not "over 25") licking their chops like cartoon canines as they very obviously eyeballed the jailbait at the Cobra Starship show. But if any perverts out there are reading this, apparently emo shows are better than shopping malls and playgrounds combined. The more you know!

ARRIVAL (at CMJ registration HQ): 2:30 p.m.
DEPARTURE (from CMJ registration HQ): 4:30 p.m.
RETURN HOME: 2 a.m.
MILES TRAVELED: 27.1.
WEATHER REPORT: Slightly overcast, light breeze, highs in the upper 60s, lows in the mid 50s with a waxing crescent moon.
CONDITION OF CLOTHING UPON RETURN TO HOTEL ROOM DESPITE BALMY EARLY FALL EVENING: Moist. Very, very moist. Hazmat-suit-to-handle-your-own-jeans moist. Because they were soaked. Soaked with other people's funk.
BANDS SEEN: Six: Saturday Looks Good To Me, Another Animal, Alter Bridge, Juiceboxxx, Team Robespierre, Dan Deacon. CMJ total: Six.
SHOWS SHUT OUT OF: One: Celebration at Union Pool. Total shows shut of: One.
BLOGGER GATHERINGS OBSERVED: Does a Todd P show in Brooklyn count as a "blog party"? Six of one, half-dozen of the other I guess.
BEST AMENITIES, NON-OPEN BAR VARIETY: "Apple" flavored "Ed Hardy Energy Drink." Let's taste it now to see what it's like... flat, acidic Mountain Dew with paprika and crushed baby aspirin stirred in. Also it's warm. There's tons of it though, and I suspect our old asses are gonna need every drop. Speaking of which...
ENERGY DRINKS DRUNK: 4. (Expect this number to jump dramatically tomorrow.)
BEST SWAG: They ran out of swag bags! The part that makes it all better by giving you small shiny objects and inexpensive consumer goods! We were told to return "in an hour, maybe." Now we'll never know what treasures lurked inside. Briefly thought about hanging around, since I could at least get the lowdown on maximizing my impact on college radio and "how to make MySpace work for me" (answer: annoying widgets), or at least check my e-mail, but was forced to go see bands because...
TECHNOLOGICAL MISHAPS: As Ryan mentioned yesterday, there seemed to be no Internet access anywhere that Internet access was promised, which perhaps might have been CMJ's subtle slap at the blogging hordes or just organizational incompetence. Definitely organizational incomptence: the fact that everyone's badges had the wrong publication names printed on them. So for the rest of the week, I'll be covering CMJ for CNET.com, while some tech geek will be repping Idolator.
SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CMJ STAFF: Roving beer vendors. Especially when, say, you're stuck on line for a canvas bag full of useless tchotchkes, only to get to the front of the line and be rewarded with a warm energy drink and a wan shrug by the girl behind the swag counter in the Flashdance sweatshirt, whose gum-snapping, but genuine lack of interest at the entire CMJ process is something you, like, totally understand, having just lost unrecoverable minutes of your life in line at CMJ for a canvas bag full of useless tchtochkes, while listening to two guys talk about how hard it is to find a relaible banjo player for their alt-country bands. Those are the moments you just need a watered-down Bud in a plastic cup to stead your nerves. I see all those disaffected "volunteers" milling around trying to look busy. Just make a note of it for next year.
PERSON SEEN HAVING MOST FUN: Guy practically rupturing something singing along to "Blinded By The Light" while stuck in traffic in Long Island City, blissfully unaware CMJ was even going on.
PRIME ASSHOLE MOMENT: Guy spilling entire beer on girl's perfectly arranged Kimmy Gibbler retro-late-'80s ensemble, and responding to her aghast expression with an almost cosmically glib "well, sucks to be you."