It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving and everyones hungry for something other than Turkey. Trading my usual Shotgun Betty for a nice Cafe Olé at Eclectic Intellectual (EI) in Downtown Zebulon as a group of 20 somethings mobbed outside chain smoke under the twinkling trees already adorned for Christmas, I had no idea that hunger was about to be quenched. All I can say is FS was anything other than bland, dry and served with gravy.
Calling themselves Punk, thats befitting plus a tiny bit Scream-O with a twist of Grunge. Dare I compare to the masters of three corded bliss Green Day but these kids have a spark and I feel that even mentioning their similarity to Blink 182 would do the slim and shaggy rockers with a long career ahead of them a great disservice. Swapping his Black Gibson for a sweet SG and donning a two toned sweet drenched shirt that just two songs ago was bone dry and solid green, Walter Stanley was everything you expected from a frontman. Animated, Vexing and Loud with an imprint of the guitar strap leaving a defined outline of its previous location like a well earned battle scar.
The next hour was a blur. There were great highs and there were sing-alongs. There was a new song waiting for words and there was even a ballad. Plaid ridden hipsters half huddled in a U of skinny jeans sang every word. Smokers popped their heads in the door just to scream their favorite line. There was a good time had by anyone with ears.
Something was left to be desired in the sound department but a Coffee House is always the best place for a vessel of your favorite beverage and not necessary built for acoustics. Perhaps music this big just cant be contained by four walls. With a few tweaked knobs on the PA Walter Stanley’s vocals will shine through the rifts and be heard as they more than deserve. My ears were however warm and fuzzy for the rest of the evening and thankfully my hearing came back just in time for Saturday Night Live.
The heart throbbing compound of the final song could all but prevent one from remaining seated it their chair and even brought one gentleman to convulsions to and fro on the green and white tile like someone who overdosed on Valtrex. It sure got to me or maybe it was that third Cafe Olé. If you were just sitting there without nodding your head or bouncing your foot you don’t have a musical bone in your body and you need to check your pulse.