Jackyl Tickets

 You know the look. Somebody says "cover band" and you watch the room deflate ; the polite nod, the drift toward the door, the guy at the bar who suddenly needs to check his phone. We've spent twenty-five years on stages watching that look. We built this band to wipe it off your face inside of one song.

Here's the thing about the songs we play: they're perfect. Creedence. Aerosmith. Van Halen. Metallica. Grand Funk. Alice in Chains. Marshall Tucker. This is the music that raised us the soundtrack to first cars and last calls and every summer worth remembering. We don't treat them like a setlist to get through. We treat them like they belong to us, because they do. They belong to anybody who ever turned one up too loud. Three vocalists, two lead guitars, no backing tracks, no laptops, nobody phoning it in. Played the way the bands who wrote them played them with the volume, the sweat, and the grin that comes with it.

Then we play a few of our own, and you don't reach for your drink. That's the standard around here. If an original can't stand next to a classic, it doesn't make the set.

But the songs are only half of it. We're up there to entertain you to talk to you, take your requests, give you hell and take it right back. We laugh at ourselves. We drink with you. We'll drag you into it whether you planned on it or not, and by the end of the night the people who came for one drink are the ones helping us close the place down.

Somebody once told us that we  were like a racecar.  We've never found a better description. We're loud, we're a little dangerous, and we have entirely too much fun but every one of us can play, and we take this music dead seriously even when we take nothing else that way. We're not here to reenact rock and roll. We're here to keep it breathing, and to make sure everybody in the room walks out with a piece of it.

Beer's cold. Guitars are loud. Let's Roll.

— Last Call