When I stepped into the back room of The Cutting Room Bar & Restaurant on West 24th St., an air of nervousness, undercut with aura of hope, overwhelmed me. Representatives of Warner and Atlantic Records sat awaiting the young, budding artists. It was enough to make me nervous, and I wasn’t even performing. Yet the room itself provided an inviting blanket of warmth, much needed on this bitterly cold night. It’s an intimate venue, replete with red drapes, an ancient piano, and two large, fuzzy paintings of an old man with a pig. I can’t whether the paintings are meant to be disturbing, but they provided me with an odd sense of well-being. The wait staff is extremely friendly and attractive, and the man in the bathroom pretty much washes your hands for you. If it weren’t for the record label reps, this place would be as comfortable as a home.

Numerous artists climbed on stage and flaunted their goods. They were a sundry lot. There were solo artists, duets, and one full band. They preformed funk, R&B, soul, and rock. Some were original; some were nothing more than glorified karaoke singers. For the most part, I was unimpressed. But the few acts that did impress, namely Asi, Danny Chait, and P.S. and Carmen Chiles, displayed talent and potential that I can only hope the record label reps appreciated as much as I did.

Brooklyn-based Asi was the opening band of the evening. They broke the ice, so to speak. In fact, they shattered it with style, starting off with two high-energy rock-and-roll songs that jump-started the crowd’s enthusiasm and created a wave of excitement and energy in the room. A damn fine start, but nothing too remarkable. A tad too hopeful, perhaps a bit unemotional. On their third song, though, Asi displayed their potential, delving into darker and more mysterious realms. “All I want is to be a friend of mine but I’m losing control,” crooned the lead singer (whose name is Asi) in an incredible voice that would prove to be unsurpassed for the rest of the evening. For the rest of the set, Asi varied their style just enough to prove that their a band with a future, a band with a store of talent that can twist and bend and weave their music around the voice which provides the backbone for their music.

Colleen Evans aka P.S.

After Asi packed up and left, I sat through some drab, quotidian performances, languidly sipping my Bud. After about an hour and a number of vocalists singing over CD music and taking themselves way too seriously, Danny Chait came as a surprisingly relief. Onstage, he humbly assembled equipment for his guitar—a little awkward, palpably nervous. He strummed a few chords and gave a sardonic “check,” drawing laughs from the crowd and priming them for his quirky, creative music. “I’m a hypochondriac. You don’t know me so you don’t know that,” were his opening lines. From there the song gets better and better, as he takes you on a hilarious journey through his psyche, climaxing with rapid-fire guitar as the background for his vocals: “Let me rewind every year, every month, every day, every hour, every fucking minute of my life.”

“I don’t like wasted notes,” Danny said of his music. As a result of this meticulous attention to his music, you may not hear from this unassuming 19 year old NYU student for a while, but he’s got the talent and the creativity to fill the shoes that Beck left vacant when he stopped being fun and started being depressing.

But despite the talent exhibited by Asi and Danny Chait, P.S. and Carmen Chiles were the highlight of the evening. I talked to the two young ladies before the show. It was a delight watching the two friends play off each other’s differences. Carmen is tall, laid-back, and quiet. P.S. is shorter, energetic, and gregarious, more than willing to divulge their band’s 3 month history. But on this particular night, their band wasn’t there. It was just Carmen and P.S. performing for the first time together on stage. It didn’t seem that way. The two seemed to know and understand each other so well that the sum of their differences seemed to add up to one beautiful, unified sound.

At first, P.S. appeared to be the lead vocalist with Carmen’s guitar and deeper voice in the background, apparently guiding P.S.’s voice. When P.S. seemed about to break out and go nuts, Carmen’s smooth, mellow voice reigned her back in. In the middle of the first song, P.S. takes a quick breather, allowing Carmen to calm her down. But then, like a good friend, Carmen lets P.S. go and she breaks loose into a climax that could almost be called rock, but not quite. Throughout this fascinating, playful interplay of voice and personality, the music has constantly been shifting between funk, soul, and rock.
The second song, “Damn I’m So Fly,” had much the same feel as their first song with an added element of what could almost be called hip-hop, but (again) not quite. P.S. raps with an abundance of energy, bursting with attitude. Carmen raps a little smoother, a little mellower. And the song progresses, until the two harmonize at the end. And when they do, it’s wonderful, creating a new, original kind of music. It’s music that seems to transcend differences—differences in personality, physical differences, and the difference between funk, soul, hip-hop, and rock. Before the show, P.S. put it perfectly when she said, “It’s not soul, not rock. It’s a vision and I hope people can see that.”

I’m not sure what the record label reps thought, but I can only hope for the best for the three talented up and coming performers I saw. Each of them played completely different styles of music, yet all three showed potential to mature into something great. It was hard to leave The Cutting Room with its warm, cozy setting and friendly employees and step out into the cold New York night. But thanks to Asi, Danny Chait, and P.S. and Carmen (and a few beers), I left the bar feeling I lot warmer inside than when I came in.