CMJ: For a Florida Band, a Festival\'s Thankless Churn

Karsten Moran for The New York TimesThe Tampa, Fla. band “Merchandise” - fronted by Carson Cox, left, performs at Villain in Brooklyn on Friday evening.

Sometimes bands hate CMJ, too, and it's hard to blame them. The churn is thankless, especially for those trying to make an impression, or many impressions, running from one room to the next, setting up for a short set, then playing, then running again.

For Merchandise, from Tampa, Fla., which recently emerged out of the cave of several years of local warehouse and D.I.Y. shows into something approximating indie fame, you sense this is far more curse than blessing . On Friday night, it played a warehouse of sorts â€" Villain, in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which is operated by Villain, “a full service events and creative agency” â€" as part of an unofficial CMJ showcase thrown by the website Pitchfork, which has been helping launch Merchandise into orbit.

“I had a whole outfit but I can't wear it; it's too hot,” the band's singer, Carson Cox, said early during the set, one of several disqualifiers, evasions and pokes he'd issue throughout the night. Maybe he was just being sensitive to the fact that the party was sponsored by Topman, the British fast-fashion line whose reach has not extended to the
warehouses of central Florida.

Surveying the crowd, Mr. Cox kept grousing. “You all look very interesting,” he said. “You all look like you have a lot to say.” After really not very long, he told the crowd the set was almost over, but not to worry, because “there'll be plenty more rap,” â€" at least, that's what it sounded like â€" saying the last word like it had four letters.

All of this would have been fine, maybe even hilarious and relatable, if Merchandise didn't have problems that extended beyond attitude. The band's dynamics felt woefully out of whack â€" guitar too low, bass too loud. Mr. Cox moves around stage with a real physical charisma, the beauty of the indignant. There's some Morrissey in his voice, some Sinatra, some Ian Curtis. He looks like he carries the collected anguish of all those singers.

But that voice is easily the defining characteristic of this band, and it's not enough. There's an aspect of muddiness to Merchandise's sometimes great songs, but at this show, it was at the fore. It was hard not to be jealous of the couple making out in the middle of the mosh pit â€" they probably weren't listening very closely.