Now that posters touting next month's VH1-sponsored Eurythmics reunion concert at Madison 
Square Garden have been plastered all over LIRR stations, the writing is literally on the wall: 
Alternative music is the classic rock of the '90s, making great fodder for balding DJs at high-
school reunions, but having little other relevance. 
  While this might be news to those of you whose car stereos got stuck on WLIR back when 
it seemed Clinton would restore dignity to the presidency, the fact that Britney Spears, not 
Björk, is the current music-biz babe is not exactly shocking. On the other hand, the fact that 
there are record-industry types out there who are still whining about the decline and fall of 
alternative music is. 

Simply put, alternative music (or college rock, or new music, 
or whatever label you want to slap on it) is never going to relive 
its glory days of a decade ago, when Smashing Pumpkins, REM 
and Nirvana moved millions of units. Still, even taking this into
consideration, all the angst at CMJ seems somewhat silly. Despite 
the reality that no one's gonna get rich jumping on Beck's bandwagon 
these days, the raison d'être behind the CMJ convention remains 
much the same as ever: To provide kids working at college stations 
and interning at two-bit record companies across the nation with an 
excuse to hang out in the East Village for an extended weekend 
and use expense accounts to hone their binge drinking. 

This cultish group of die-hards, who still believe in the 
gospel according to Perry Farrell, came together last 
week at the 19th annual CMJ music festival, a downtown 
Manhattan trade show for those in the music industry who 
define "alternative" as owning a Sonic Youth T-shirt. 
Hosted by the Great Neck publishing company College 
Media Inc., the get-together (panel discussions during 
daylight hours and club concerts at night) has always
acted as a mirror for participants. Sort of like a dysfunc-
tional family reunion at which you can step back, look 
objectively at your relatives and realize just how fucked 
you all are. 

This year continued that tradition. But while there were 
just as many ridiculous haircuts, poorly-drawn tattoos and 
snotty attitudes as before, this time around the vibe of the 
whole shebang was noticeably different. The buzz wasn't 
about the next big breakthrough band; it was about the 
utter lack of a next big breakthrough band. 
  Sure, the crowd (comprised of college-radio types, indie-
label execs, rock journalists and other "professionals") tried 
its best to talk up the lackluster lineups at the nightly CMJ 
gigs.  But when two of the big shows being promoted are 
Cheap Trick and Willie Nelson, there can be no denying 
that the times, to quote another musical geezer, they are 
a-changin'. 

  That said, most yet-to-be-discovered bands still find it worth-
while to participate in the proceedings. In fact, while it's debatable 
whether an appearance at CMJ amounts to anything more than 
fond memories for most acts, the competition to capture a 
performance slot is fierce. For Long Island bands, the prospect of 
CMJ success is especially alluring.  Coming from a place a little 
too close to New York City to easily declare itself as musically
distinct, but a little too far away to bask in the reflected glory of 
the rock mecca, Nassau and Suffolk musicians can use a spot 
at a CMJ show to bring a little respect back to the 'hood.