In Da Club: God Damn Doo Wop Band at the Hexagon

Crass crooners turn back time, engage in unladylike behavior

The bass player for Minneapolis's God Damn Doo Wop Band looks like he's covered in scabby hives. But the red marks dotting his face aren't the result of a life-threatening laundry-detergent allergy: They're red-lipstick smooch marks most likely placed on his chiseled visage by one or all of the three female singers in the six-piece group. The lanky bassist is the anachronistic jukebox-era bad boy of the bunch, taking the stage at the Hexagon on Thursday night decked out in ruby kisses, smoke-stained flannel, and pointy-toed boots, but the girls in the group are the real badasses. Between not-so-innocent ballads about moody boys, bad boyfriends, and other offenders of the heart, two of the girls chug cans of Budweiser with as much ladylike flair as a gearhead, and one of the sweet-voiced singers peppers the breaks between their upbeat one-minute songs with loud belches and banter about "saving the titties." Here, their R&B-influenced harmonies stir even dudes in Skinny Puppy T-shirts to get up and dance. The group is fun to watch at least once, especially for the song dedicated to saxophonist Jon Kuder (Melodious Owl). The girls beseech his father to let them have their way with him, and even add synchronized supplication and eyelash batting for good measure. They might be God damned, but they sure as hell have fun pretending to be virtuous.

 
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