Mike Doughty took the stage at the 9:30 club Saturday night in a black T-shirt and a black jacket. He was dressed like a small-time label owner, a businessman. His tattoos were covered and his mannerisms were reserved.
All this could be considered carryover from the opening act, the Panderers, a band composed of a couple of Mike Doughty's own band members and fronted by the kin of a coal miner. The Panderers are the only band on Mike Doughty's brand spankin' new micro label Snack Bar.
The Panderers were flat, a band that finds a groove and keeps it, much like Mike Doughty himself, but without Doughty's characteristic sound.
So when Doughty took the stage following the opener, the vibe was uncertain, un-rock and unexpected.
Before the Panderers, the crowd filed in to find the stage full of fake-bearded men who wore Holden Caulfield hats. Upon further inspection, Doughty's pasty boyish face was an easy find. It was he and his band jamming for the early attendees. It was imperfect, simple and free. It was a bonus set from the headliners themselves. It was awesome.
Doughty and the band took the stage again more than an hour later, without their beards or hats. They jumped into three or four songs, playing them through with little improvisation. It wasn't until "Unsingable Name," a track from Doughty's previous release "Haughty Melodic," that the battery on Doughty's acoustic guitar died.
The veil of professionalism was gone. Doughty laughed nervously as he changed the battery. Then he and the band launched back into "Unsingable Name" with more vigor than anyone on stage had shown that night. The pressure was gone.
"Sweet and plain," Doughty sang. "Unsingable name."
The rest of the concert rocked breezily. Doughty paid an impressive amount of homage to his bandmates, particularly drummer Pete McNeal, whom he introduced halfway through the set. Bassist Andrew "Scrap" Livingston also received considerable attention from both Doughty and the crowd. He wore jeans and a bright red Locksley t-shirt under a blue plaid blazer. He played the bass with his glasses on the end of his nose and his hand appearing to grip the neck of the guitar instead of fingers pressing the strings. His head moved to the beat like a rooster's head moves when he walks. In short, he was a character.
John Kirby, who spent much of the show with his eyes closed or his head back, sat behind his keyboard and stared at the colorful lights. It wasn't until the finale, which featured Doughty's two biggest songs "Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well" and the new single "27 Jennifers," that Kirby showed any signs of engagement, smiling and standing and shaking around.
After the finale, Doughty took a swig of water, removed his coat, tossed it over his shoulder and followed close behind as his cast of characters left the stage. They had taken care of business.
