Here’s what you get when you buy a ticket to a Wakey! Wakey! show: knowledge of a microchord (a mini-keyboard type thingy), strings and piano rock and threats of a sharpie style prison tattoo. In this economy, that’s not too shabby. 
Not too shabby is exactly the way I’d describe Wakey! Wakey!. Frontman Michael Grubbs’ voice stands out crisp and large against a beautiful backdrop of instrumentation. More importantly however is his ability to make a point when his voice captures your attention. His lyrics are not only poetic but descriptive, telling a story as real and believable as the best in the business. Blended with beautiful string play and charming piano, the mesh of sounds is as flawless and practices as possible. With this gift in their pockets I could easily see them supporting great bands like Jack’s Mannequin or The Elected.
Charming and marketable as they can be, Wakey! Wakey! manages to retain their indie sensibilities. Spending as much time joking with the crowd as playing the set, their down to earth personalities sell their show as much as their catchy, polished songs. Their harmony vocals are as practiced as I’ve seen in a hole in the wall dive. I mean, as much as I love the Record Bar, it certainly isn’t as sound in terms of acoustics as The Midland or Uptown Theater. Yet, Wakey! Wakey! managed to make it sound like a fucking opera house.
Without a doubt, I see big things happening for this band. Those who are blessed enough to catch them in a tiny room like The Record Bar might have caught the steal of the year. Chances are they’ll be untouchable in a matter of time, playing room of 2000 plus instead of speaking personally to an intimate crowd.
Catch them while you can kids. Once radio gets a glimpse of this band you’ll be scrapping for tickets.
