“Some of y’all are too cute to have a good time!”

Fantasia is pissed. Or at least, stage-pissed. She’s the second Main Stage act on the final night of the Essence Music Festival and has no patience for hesitancy. Her hair and coat disheveled, her face bathed in sweat, she dashes off the stage and sings from the floor, visibly trembling as she ignites the crowd.

For “Even Angels”, the screen shows succeeding black-and-white photos of MLK, Malcolm X, President Obama, Oprah, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Marvin Gaye, then MLK with family, Obama with family, an Hispanic family, an Asian family, and finally a younger Fantasia. I’d say the Obamas received the loudest cheers, with MJ and Whitney tied for second. The final number, “Nobody Greater”, takes us to church, and most of the floor seats are empty as people rise to join Fantasia, who just turned in one of the better performances of the weekend.

Security honcho/Fleur de Tease host Chris Lane will later berate me when I tell him, but I decide to see Eve in the Superlounge instead of Anthony Hamilton on the Main Stage. From what I hear, the latter was outstanding. Whatever. I chose hip-hop and will stand by it.

Musically, Eve keeps a low profile these days. She hasn’t put out a record in years, made news by dating the dictator of Equatorial Guinea’s bizarre playboy son, and in general seems to have distanced herself from the rap game in favor of fashion and luxury.

None of that is evident by her performance tonight. She remains supermodel beautiful but still able to deliver the girl-next-door flow. As the so-called Queen of the Ruff Ryders, she was part of a late-’90s Def Jam sound that ages fairly well. “Who’s That Girl,” “Let Me Blow Your Mind,” and “Gotta Man” were all well-produced tracks and still move the 2012 crowd. The only flaw is a forced, momentum-killing rapport with her DJ, who is on the mic half the time with weak jokes and then decides a medley of bounce is necessary in New Orleans. Hey DJ—we’re here for Eve. I love, but don’t really need to hear, DJ Money Fresh’s remake of “Rollin in the Deep” for the ninetieth time.

Several audience members are brought onstage, including the Tambourine Lady and a white kid with a “I’m From Philly, Too” t-shirt, all of them dancing. Things become weird and disjointed.

But after three days of Essence Fest, maybe I’m irritable and I’m pretty sure I’m getting a cold from all the Superdome AC. Gotta stay strong for Aretha. Ironically enough, someone in the know tells me that the Queen of Soul requests no AC in her limo, the better to preserve her voice. I picture the goddess rolling through New Orleans with the windows down.

Nephew Tommy begins his introduction and we’re all on the edge. “Born in Memphis, she went to Detroit…” Then another voice cuts in and welcomes Aretha’s orchestra, an awkward if necessary mistake. The band plays “Rocksteady” and we notice the tall man in the percussion section. Jason Marsalis begins a tympani roll and Aretha emerges. At 70, she moves with effort. When she reaches the mic, sound issues muffle her and continue in the next song. Imagine being a soundman, with the Queen of Soul up there trying to sing “You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman,” and nothing’s coming out.

Once the mic is working, Aretha sounds fairly good, if a bit tired. She can hit the notes she chooses, but not for long. She keeps up with the band just fine and at times really goes for it. The high point for me is “I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Loved You),” when the blues comes through deep and fundamental, the starting point for decades of American music. This seems like my cue to exit.

Outside, t-shirts are $5 and various staffers lounge on golf carts. The markets on the corner of Rampart are still alive with deal brokering and grill smoke. Water salesman fish for last customers and VIP buses breathe, waiting on the after-partiers. I resolve never to miss another Essence Festival, and then I go home.