JULY JAM @ FRANKLIN PARKWAY
Maybe it was because I was wasted last year at Philadelphia’s July Jam, but I didn’t remember it being so much of a complete and utter shitshow. I’m talking like after the fireworks, a food cart yelled that the leftover chicken was ‘all on the house’ and I watched a live version of the Lion King stampede- drumsticks flying in the air, weave ripped from heads, lace fronts ruined, the whole nine yards (but I still managed to get 2 wings- say haaaaaaay). Mess in the streets aside, The Roots and Common and Queen L were all good stuff but what really blew me away was Daryl Hall’s performance. Sure, he was half of the glorious Hall and Oates back in the day, but I was honestly expecting him to come out looking like a pile of cottage cheese. In fact, he stole the show, slammin out all that shit I listened to in my mom’s car when I was four years old nommin on a Happy Meal in my carseat. Full force on the energy too. So solid.
Every suburban soccer mother and her minivan full of children made my eardrums bleed with emergency-breaks-decibel screaming when Joe Jonas did his baby-Elvis doo wop. Then his brother came out and all the girls got so excited they pee’d a little bit. I’ll never understand.
There was much talk of a surprise performer backstage, and I heard everything from Nas to Will Smith, but then Lauryn Hill brings her fierce ass to that stage is some nine-inch stilettos (the higher the shoes, the closer to God, can I getta amen) and a her after-party-wedding-dress fashionista swag. Played alllllll that Fugee freshness. So glad I got to see her before she hits up that jail cell. Lauryn Hill, pay your taxes girl.
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