Not sure if he’ll be rocking pants tonight, but Har Mar Superstar will be rocking indie pop tonight with Five O’Clock Heroes, Bang Bang Eche at Mercury Lounge, 217 E. Houston St. (betw. Ludlow & Essex Sts.), 212-260-4700; 7, $12

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A small ferret of a man sat in a wheelchair surrounded by a low copse of mic stands, a pawn shop's worth of vintage amps and a gaggle of musician types—The Professor, The Stoner, The Fetching Violinist, etc. Finally, in a clear, deliberate voice, he said "OK. Here we go," Vic Chesnutt's way of saying "kick out the jams, motherfucker."

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Sean Tillman has been a sex god for years. Whether performing as Har Mar Superstar—as he will tonight at Mercury Lounge in support of his new record, Dark Touches—as Sean Na Na or in his former band Calvin Krime, Tillman always puts on a show. And it’s not always just with music; just recently it was announced that he would be working with actor pal Ellen Page to pen a new HBO comedy. Rebecca Huval caught up with Tillman to talk Ron Jeremy, Minnesota and, um, nipple hair.

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For once, Saturday night the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway got me from Brooklyn to Tribeca and it didn’t cost me a $30 cab ride. Granted that’s only because I took the train to Tribeca for the DVD-premiere film screening of Sufjan Stevens’ The BQE at 92YTribeca.

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It'll be an all-star cast when Vic Chestnutt Band takes the stage with Clare & the Reasons tonight at Bowery Ballroom, 6 Delancey St. (betw. Bowery & Chrystie St.), 212-533-2111; 8, $18

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The last two days of CMJ went by in a manic 48 hours uninterrupted for me by any real type of sleep, so I feel it's fitting to mash them together into one long mega-post.

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How does the mood of a band affect its performance? Seattle-based three-piece The Blakes hit New York City with a show at Crash Mansion on Friday. During sound check the band appeared unhappy; lead singer and guitarist Garnet Keim threw around unnecessary audio cables with a look of disdain on his face. As starting the set, Garnet repeatedly asked the soundman how a show taking place during CMJ could have such a poor sound mix in the stage monitors. (None of the other bands playing the bill complained about sound problems.) The audience was listless while the Blakes meandered through the first few songs of its set; the rhythm and blues swagger of the band’s best material lost with indifferent performances.

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Buckle your seat belts, La Roux’s not your typical day-at-the-races, but then again, neither were the Eurythmics, Depeche Mode or David Bowie, all of who went on to have critically-acclaimed careers.

La Roux’s new single “Bulletproof” debuted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Heatseekers Chart. It went to No. 1 in England. So what does all this mean? Hot. Red Hot. Plus isn’t it refreshing to learn, in a world where contest-driven TV shows seem to be the only way to get head, that a band—talent, touring, perseverance and all—can still make it to No. 1.

But what makes La Roux —playing tonight at the Highline Ballroom—thrilling? Could it be the fact that feisty front woman, Elly Jackson, sports a signature copper-red pompadour and dresses in vintage clothes; or that she, at 21 (along with partner Ben Langmaid), actually writes her own songs, melody and all; or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that she sang in her school choir. I had the great opportunity of asking her myself.

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In an interview with Gothamist today, Fugazi's Guy Picciotto, who's playing with Vic Chestnutt tonight and tomorrow in New York, says that the legendary band might not be completely kaput yet.

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CMJ Guerrilla tactics: while often successful, there is no real guarantee that they won't make you look/feel like an asshole. Case in point: with a gaping hole in my schedule and a handful of glowing first-hand reviews from festival goers who saw them at Bell House, I planned to catch the North Carolina's The Love Language 10 last night at the Living Room, but I arrived just after the set started but I arrived to find myself at the back of a merciless room. Behind the well laid out rows of table and chairs at the LES backroom was chatty chaos, the band up front transmitting so weakly through the space I didn't even need my earplugs. Solution: when auxiliary band members make a push to get on stage, follow in wake. Problem: once you get to the front there won't be anywhere to go. I sat on the floor a good three or four songs (I didn't want to block all the people who'd jockeyed for position and was willing to sacrifice sight for sound), but the overworked waitress decided that was a no go, so soon I was standing in front of all the people I'd just shoved past.

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