{image1}A nearly full first-floor capacity (just two seats shy), The Pabst Theater was alive and buzzing with excitement, waiting patiently. The lights dimmed and a quirky pre-recorded message blared over the loudspeakers, spouting gibberish phrases but nonetheless, effective in setting the mood for spontaneity and rule breaking. Mike Doughty walked out in silhouette, and the crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. He gave a smile and nod, and then broke into the opening chords of "Madeline and Nine." The crowd roared, and on a rainy, Tuesday night, Doughty shined.
His new album, "Haughty Melodic," was released in May, but judging from the nonstop sing along, you could guess Doughty has been around much longer.
Best recognized as the voice for the mid-'90s offbeat band Soul Coughing, Doughty has spent the past five years finding his own place in music. The voice that carries him is an anomaly in itself, difficult to describe, impossible to duplicate. Low, but not baritone, and nasally but not annoying or tinny, Doughty's voice is able to sing sweet melodies or beat box gibberish with equal effortlessness. Paired with his unique lyrics and clever wordplay, Doughty's music exercises both the singer and the songwriter, with winning results.
Doughty played with an accompanying band (his first since Soul Coughing split), providing a fuller, filled out sound to some of the more multi-faceted songs. With an electric classical keyboard, upright bass, various guitars and big shiny drum set, the group jammed and improvised.
An extended "Tremendous Brunettes" was well received by the mostly college-age crowd, but the Duran Duran cover of "Hungry Like The Wolf" brought the crowd to its feet. And they stayed there, more or less, for the rest of the show, at first like a slow ripple effect, then just a few die-hard gophers popping up in their seats to freestyle dance. Other highlights included the Soul Coughing droll "True Dreams of Wichita" and a Johnny Cash cover of "The Gambler" (which began with opening chorus of Guns N Roses' "Paradise City").
As fun and engaging as Doughty's performance was, the concert experience is as much performer as it is audience, I think. A good performer deserves an equally attentive and respectful audience. Poor Mike Doughty had to suffer through a fratty, Animal House, "Who can yell song titles louder" contest Tuesday night at The Pabst.
The crowd seemed young and rowdy, and ready to stand on the plush seats of the century-old Pabst to sway and flail to the jam-band aspects of Doughty's set. Chatter was at a constant buzz, and intermittent clapping or yelling out was rampant. As obnoxious as the crowd grew, Doughty still held command of the night.
To Doughty's credit, he did not let the dancing girls clamoring to get on stage, nor the fist-pumping drunks yelling out requests get the best of him. At one point he simply smiled and said "You yelling at me won't make me play things I don't want. So stop it." This was his show, lest anyone get confused.
