Brother Ali is fucking intense. He glares at all the fucking people in the room, even the ones cheering for him. He demands crowd participation, and gets visibly pissed when it doesn't happen. He does that song about beating up a wife-beater a capella. He's the strongest MC in the underground right now, and whatever Scion employee thought to put him on the Brand Nubian comeback tour is an idiot. Two great tastes are not always great together, and Brother Ali needs a hushed, attentive, reverent crowd. He didn't get one. God, I would love to see him in Minneapolis.

Brand Nubian is the greatest nostalgia act touring. They don't wear out their welcome; their set list is maybe like eight songs, even when they're headlining. They get a couple of new joints out of the way, and then it's "What Goes Around" - "One For All" - "Punks Jump Up" - "What Goes Around" - "Don't Let It Go to Ya Head" - "Slow Down" - goodnight. I have never seen a hip-hop crowd get hype like that before.

I'm famous. Congradulations are in order. I'm joining the P-Fork staff, working on that singles review column they have. I get to tell thousands upon thousands of indie kids how fucking great Petey Pablo is. They get the regular services of one of the tightest young music writers in the world. For free. It's a win-win.