Not for Church Folks

"Never make someone a Priority who only makes you an Option!"

The above is forwarded advice from muh dear. Something to hold on to.

Hier soir was cool. Jack seems like an almost (but not counterfeit) Joi (they are both children of Mademoiselle Mabry and Millie J.), that is, a painfully self-aware Joi with limited vocal range. Joi is unrepentantly trashy; Jack seems to be in rehearsal. For what? I don't know. Something strong and counterculture. Joi is exo-culture (meow). The porn in the background of their set felt antiseptic, landed diffused. Jack flicked her scanty top turned dress but not very far. Jack's stuff was boy shorted and obscured. Her boots looks vintagey and designer. When I have seen Joi her stuff showed from the second her scuffed stripper heels assumed the stage. Jack seemed like she didn't want to go all the way with it even as she sang the opposite. But I liked her. I really liked them. They were enthusiatic, elastic, not yet disdainful of the people who may or may not have paid money to see them and not put 'em up and clap and smile and express anything other than indifference or gawk and yell and drool and spill beer and jump & funk like their lives depended on it. Jack moved well. She has a thing, a presence unlike some well-intentioned chanteuses. She told her story with that voice about which I haven't made up my mind. It's not great like Yummy or Teedra or Leela. It's just there. But I don't know if any other voice could live there and explore the same territory. Brook's beats were hot. "Private Parts" was the highlight. Lowlight, you ask? Summer ain't never lied.

Why isn't Joi a superstar? Why did damn near all of ATL and a little of Dallas (Badu) shamelessly jack her style? Where is Whyld Peach? Joi's intro and exit vamp been stuck in my head since the A train ride home last night (meow).