I first got in touch with FIPS (or fucked as i like to call us) because my little brother, the hip hop artist formerly known as Egglard, was playing a show at Southpaw and I thought... where better to publicize his EPICK awesomeness than a blog that shares his love of titular profanity?

Unfortunately, Erica was busy eating Robicelli's cupcakes and watching the Bachelor/Lost/CashCab, and thus did not see my prophetic email in a timely fashion.

What his fans are saying:

"Songbird of our generation." Epick

"How can you continue to humiliate me like this? If you don't change that name, I'll never talk to you again. By the way, are you coming up this weekend?" Epick's mother

"Six inches of skill, maybe six and a half." Epick 

"Good for a white dude." Epick's nephew

"Upwardly mobile." unspecified critics

So, you probably missed the genius that is my brother the first time around, not to mention his big-ass (i mean kick-ass) backup band and his smoking hot single sister Sara out in the audience. 

But your time is coming. All hail Epick and his fellow vanilla but not vanilla ice hip hoppers. The eldest and I are going to take naps so we can stay up late. See you there!!

Maybe it was the beat of the rain on my umbrella but Norah Jones had a seriously soporific effect on me last night. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was... fine, I was fucking bored to death. And it didn't help that I only got one fancy seat press pass so I got to sit in style all by my lonesome while friends and loved ones were exiled behind a fence in the cheap seats. VIPS like me get a white cotton hanky to wipe the seat off. They get plastic bag ponchos to don. And actual seats. At the front. 

I felt like a sell out. I missed my peeps. My proletariet. The hardworking real people outside of the bubble. Not enough to get up and move to my friends huddled far behind me, mind you, but I did contemplate it for like ten seconds.

So, I love Norah but I hadn't realized that what is great to listen to at home in the background doesn't necessarily translate to a not-to-be-missed concert experience. 

The outfit was awesome. I want that blue polka-dotted dress with the red petticoat. Vintage? Had to be.

I didn't get the need for all that atmospheric fog that kept blowing. I mean, shit, it was a fucking monsoon already. At one point, Norah was virtually obscured in smoke.

Good cover of Johnny Cash. Winsome, sweetly awkward repartee. Is NJ from Texas? She sounded twangy when she spoke. Great voice. But I don't like the country phase as much as the old, original bluesy stuff. Just sooooooo meh somehow. Not lighter worthy...probably a good thing since I may have set fire to my umbrella.

Don't Know Why.

You?

Full disclosure: I decamped for home before ten so maybe I missed the best stuff! 

Norah Jones. TODAY, June 9.  Prospect Park Bandshell. 7pm. Free. Or so they say.

Give us the inside line on best seats. When do you actually need to arrive? Best picnic food nearby? Best cheap wine? Best BK brew?

I'm going to buy a lighter for this one, I tell you.

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