Cro-mags Love M.Doughty

Not the band but actual sturdy, men with large heads and sloping brows (no photo).

Tuesday night (07/26/05), my niece and I (photo) went to see the Magnificent Mike Doughty at Maxwell’s (alliteration not intended). We noted the crowded room was comprised of roughly 7 awkward women and a bevy of Modern-day Cro-magnon Men! Nearly every one of the guys in the room were shaped like Fred Flintstone in Dockers, apart from the dead-ringer for Bob's Big Boy. Admittedly, seeing them sway, croon along with Mike and stand upright was endearing.

However, when the music stopped between songs, they got a little raucousy, demanding to hear “Real Love" (yes, the Mary J. Blige song). There was something surreal about the many, thick-set men requesting a ballad to be sung by a guy they’d most likely head-butt in another situation...yet, touching.

There was even a Cro-mag Hottie. As in, back in the Paleolithic era, he’d’ve been inundated by female Cro-mags, hurling their hair at him hoping to be dragged back to his lair to rut. Unfortunately, this is 2005 A.D.

For the encore, the Band played a sampled, break-beat extravaganza that confused the Evolutionary Throw-Backs a little and we feared there might be violence. Then M.Doughty segued into something more melodic, restoring calm and the stumpy horde swayed along once more. At show's end, they galumphed back to their Condo-Caves, to rise early to forage for fortunes on Wall St.

They say 'Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.' Add to that ‘make sway the Cro-Mags of Hoboken’.

p.s. If you don't know who Mike Doughty is, do yourself a favour and find out, NOW!