Well, not just me, but it might as well be, because she has that kind of stage presence where she is drawing us in instead of pushing herself out.
We are in the midst of a Santa bar crawl, she informs me, clad in a short red skirt and candy cane striped, fur-trimmed arm warmers.
Emily’s three piece is fun and jazzy, and I am marveling at the merry-go-round of NYC music. I might hate it here (not really) (okay, really), but there’s such a wide range of music to hear. I mean, there’s a show with this fun jazzy stuff followed by Elise and the band glam-rocking through a Filmstar set.
I don’t feel like that happens in Philadelphia. It’s still more segregated – the jazz kids stay on the jazz side of the line, the acoustic kids hang out with their own, and the bands drive the big shows.
There are more Santas here by the minute. The room is now filled with Santas. Some are bearded and authentic, while others are half-hearted in hats and vests or just striped stockings.
Emily is kind of killing it, first with “Branch,” then “Down the Line,” and something about “Sunday Morning.” I think I’m going to have to say hello to her.
But, first I have to go sit in our parked car and give the appearance of knowing how to drive a car, because our parking pass expires three minutes before parking is free. And god help me if anyone calls that bluff, because I don’t think I know the window wiper fluid from the gas pedal.