On one particular Thursday, the 19th of April, the students at New York University came together in a celebration of courage and diversity through independent music. Each of the three bands that took the stage that night were a living, rocking testament to the thriving underground that perseveres in a independent musical climate that too often rewards complacency . In the face of structure and contentment, there are bands like Battles, Dirty Projectors, and O'Death. Whether through an electro-jazz fused tangle of wires, disturbingly macabre pop, or an American Gothic tent revival, each group push their unique dynamic and sound to uncharted territory, throwing caution to the wind. With each band hailing from New York City, that may be the sole common thread in the way of tangible facts. The level of stylistic eclecticism couldn't put the bands in more distant corners of a musical spectrum, but in a symbolic manner, the bands represent a brotherhood with roots far deeper than geography. Never displaying experimentation for the sake of eccentricity, each band’s fiery creativity provides a common ground on which to build—a valor that says, “Here we are in all of our flawed glory; let us put on a show.”

Brooklyn's Dirty Projectors began the night with what sounded like the soundtrack to a frightening collapse. The raw emotion verged on terrifying as high-pitched three part harmonies were conducted by lead Projector David Longstreth, but fleshed out by his female counterparts, Amber Coffman and Angel Deradoorian. Dirty Projectors play the type of twisted pop music that was never hugged as a child and might've tortured small animals. With a touch of what the tastemakers call 'freak folk', it was the playful call-and-response of baby-talk nonsense (think Animal Collective) that would give the audience a feeling of safety and comfort—the girl’s voices sounded smooth and dare I say, beautiful. But just when things began to sound too light, Longstreth would shriek and warble like Xiu Xiu's Jamie Stewart,displaying a startling, raw vulnerability with each abrasive holler. It was difficult like Deerhoof and swirling like the Microphones, but it was also proof that there's no such thing as solid ground – as soon as stability set in, the Dirty Projectors shook the floor beneath your feet.  

The group to follow, O'Death, play gothic folk-punk straight out of Appalachia in all of its booze-guzzling, foot-stomping, bare-chested glory. With fiddles, acoustic guitars, banjos and beer guts, the boys do their best to erase the thoughts of skyscrapers just outside the door. Instead, led by the fire pit sing-a-long of the unapologetically screeching Greg Jamie, their breed of countrified, goth-punk recalls the great wilderness as it would sound most at home by the light of the moon, next to the flicker of a flame as the wolves howled and the crickets chirped along. Having been compared to Neil Young and Tom Waits, Jamie can whoop it up with the best of them, but it's the band's deadpan delivery and earnest sincerity that made it impossible for this crowd to not clap and stomp along. 

The night's headliners, math-rockers Battles have garnered their fair share of internet buzz well before the release of their debut album Mirrored due out in May. Playing a genre-bending mixture of electronic music and experimental jazz, with jam band instrumental proficiency, it's safe to say you won't be hearing anything else quite like Battles this year. Live, the band was as much a treat for the eyes as for the ears as their stage set up looked like a jumble of endless wires and futuristic machinery, as if a mad scientist had robbed a Radio Shack.

With a single gigantic crash cymbal extended a full arm's length above his head, ex-Helmet drummer John Stanier anchored the onslaught with his pounding rhythms as Daft Punk-style vocal effects ran against spinning tape loops. Never more exemplary than on the killer lead single ‘Atlas’, the band was so tight that they even grooved in unison, creating the illusion of a futuristic musical experiment. Throughout the performance, the stage vibrated with such ferocity that the group's laptop-turned-instrument teetered on the edge of its stand, and one couldn't help get the feeling that if it came crashing to the ground, the band might vanish with a zip like holograms in the night. 

All things considered, I have an inkling that everyone has enough of a jumbled mess in their heads and hearts to appreciate the expression of organized chaos these bands represent. But I am not idealistic enough to be overcome by a naivety that would highlight these bands' universality. The truth is, each group remains nearly unknown on a global scale; they are jagged pills and require an open minded ambition as a listener. Fortunately, on this night, the crowd scoffed at convention and embraced this challenge, coming out on the other side three bands wiser.