Unlike South By Southwest, which takes over Austin and fills every venue and corner store with showcasing bands, the CMJ Music Marathon takes place in a city working to millions of different schedules. It isn't uncommon for passers-by to spot the purple lanyards round the necks of industry folk and ask, “What's CMJ?” And setting a music conference in New York City throws up obstacles: long commutes between venues, which leads to 'festival fatigue' (first comes FOMO, then anger, then acceptance); a related sense by the third day that the festival is fracturing between the official showcases in Manhattan and the unofficial parties happening in Brooklyn; an inconsistent flow of communication between those attending due to the spread, which means when set times and venues change, luck is usually the only thing on your side.

It certainly has its perks, too, including the possibility of remarkable shows that aren't crammed to the teeth with drunk publicists. Downstairs from Rockwood Music Hall's Stage 3 on the Lower East Side, New Zealand's Tiny Ruins is playing to a seated audience in a candlelit room no bigger than a New York apartment. There's a one-drink minimum with table service, and even the light of a phone is conspicuous. Standing with her acoustic guitar, Hollie Fullbrook is accompanied by a percussionist pulling a djembe and tambourine from a sack. She introduces him: it's Hamish Kilgour of legendary Flying Nun band The Clean. Then Fullbrook plucks a beguiling set of her ethereal folk to Kilgour's interpretive taps, rattles and finger clicks. Though Fullbrook clearly has much reverence for early-'70s acoustic storytelling and little interest in giving the form an update, she backs it up with a voice that beckons free spirits and tales of travel that suggest she might be one herself. Lyrically she paints rural fantasies: her songs are of winter gardens, catacomb villages and town criers. “We're on a Thursday, aren't we?” she says mid-set, all too telling of her busy week. “We're almost there.”

Tiny Ruins.

In an entirely different setting, across the river in Williamsburg, Melbourne's Lost Animal are playing as part of the unofficial Hardly Art showcase at Death By Audio, a dingy space with a folding table for a bar. The record label released the group's debut album, Ex Tropical, in the States earlier this year, and also has Hunx & His Punx, Shannon & The Clams and Jacuzzi Boys on its books. Hunx played a frisky show at Death By Audio late in August, supported by New York's cleaner art-punks Hunters, who are being mentioned in many columns for their CMJ shows this week. The atmosphere is more relaxed inside the venue tonight, though Lost Animal's Jarrod Quarrell is in it, scrunching the mic lead to his neck as he sings his ragged poetry with all the anguish of a lifelong street tough. Shags Chamberlain is here to back him up on guitar, with Quarrell's synth adding post-punk beats and hums. It's quite something to hear the album's songs in a city that can aesthetically match the tone of their beautiful struggle.

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The Hardly Art merch desk.

Around the corner, at Glasslands Gallery, music blog Gorilla vs Bear and new-media content provider Yours Truly are holding another unofficial party. Brooklyn singer/songwriter Tei Shi makes elongated R&B-pop songs backed by light hip-hop beats and live drumming. There's plenty to suggest the Vancouver native is well trained: she messes with jazz structures and vocal runs. But her silken songs always head back for the hook. It's pop music, through and through. Under lights made of sawn off PVC piping, Tokyo's Sapphire Slows is up next. With releases through 100% Silk and Not Not Fun, and enough Pitchfork coverage to have label folk talking about her this week, the producer is an unassuming entity. With just her desk and a mic in front of her, and nary a word to the audience, she makes ghostly bangers equally at home in a dark club (such as this one) and on a festival stage in the wee hours. She even has the smoking kids out front filing in to listen.

Sapphire Slows.

Back at Death By Audio, Hausu's yeller/guitarist Ben Friars gives an early hint of what's to come: “I am wont to break guitar strings, so does anyone have a guitar I could set aside just in case? No pressure.” The Portland quartet then go about an awesome set of hardcore ditties with a backwoods bent. Friars has clearly spent time in the bedroom practising his cascading guitar riffs, and with his fall-down melodies and growls, it's a DIY-punk dream. They've even figured out how to get a crowd to move closer to the stage. “Feel free to occupy space however you wish,” Friars charms, “but if you wish to come closer, we wish that too.” Cue: bodies up front.

Hausu.

Capping off the Hardly Art showcase are The Beets, a punk group from Queens whose cartoonish sloganeering and style descends from The Ramones. A hung sheet behind them reads, “MEANWHILE BACK IN QUEENS…” – this kind of borough pride can only come from New York natives, and the same could be said of the band's dedication to jaunty punk jams.

A few blocks away, the Beggars Group, Europe's largest group of independent labels, is holding its CMJ party with a DJ set from New Jersey's Real Estate. Label folk sip frozen margaritas and talk shop while a few locals hand DL codes to the influential set they've stumbled across. The loud chatter filters down Williamsburg's quiet streets as day three of CMJ rolls on into day four.