"and get more cheese than Doritos, Cheetos or Fritos..."

Last night Doom spit my very favorite line off Madvillainy, and for an artist with such an extensive catalog to choose from, that’s all I could ask for, really. I didn’t know most of Doom’s jams. He played a ton off MMM…Food and earlier albums I don't own, only touching briefly on the insta-classic that sold me and not at all on his latest Aquateen-splattered collab. No surprise cameo from Danger Mouse and no banging kick-start. My ladies and I, after force-feeding ourselves booze and drilling for last-reserve adrenaline until 12:05am on a Thursday night, held out for a particular menacing beat to mark Doom’s entrance, hoping the tinkling of West coast piano chords and a Cee-Lo chorus would announce our hero.

“His name’s…DOOM.”

No such luck. Although we did get the mask (for 40 measly minutes!).

The show, starting at 9:00 in the Space Mountain-like cavern of the Nokia Times Square Theater featured a legion of wordsmiths, many of whom eluded my quaint hip-hop knowledge base. We arrived in time for Big Daddy Kane’s entire set, a sizzling display of mike skills and gripping beats that bumped my crew into motion, even in our exhaustion and impatience. A jacked rapper in a black muscle tank (don’t ask me who it was, I have no idea) came out to sling some old-school hits, striking the reminiscence chord dead on. He flaunted the most obscenely huge triceps on record, bricks bulging beneath his skin. Throwing those hands in the air to “wave ‘em like you just don’t care” appeared to be quite the strenuous exercise.

The crowd was a mellow, breezy bunch, buzzed on weed and cradled in slick grooves. Miss Jazzy J was the first to point out the male/female ratio imbalance, about 80/20 in our favor.

“And they’re all fiiiiiiiine Stacey.”

For true. The theater housed a collection of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen under one NYC roof. Stylish brothers with silky swaggers. And Lillycita and I pointed out almost simultaneously, delicious scents smothered and seduced us from every direction. In a moment of pure creepiness we actually leaned forward and took a whiff of the guy in front of us, deciding that he, and his immaculately groomed compatriots, emanated the delicious floral aroma of freshly washed laundry. You know you’ve been hanging out at too many hipster shows when showers and clean clothes are enough to send you swooning.

**UPDATE: The grossly muscular rapper mentioned above has been identified as the Furious Five's Melle Mel. If you see this man on the street DO NOT give him any more spinach.