Live review: Catch 22 and Keep Flying live at The Wonder Bar

Asbury Park, NJ – 19 Dec 2025

A Christmas Ska-rol

Six nights before Christmas, in a room packed wall-to-wall and sweating through winter coats, I was visited by three spirits. They did not rattle chains or whisper regrets. They smelled of spilled beer, brass polish and damp hoodies. They came not to haunt, but to remind. Call them the Ghosts of Skalidays.

The first to appear was the Ghost of Skalidays Yet to Come, arriving already too large for the room. The World’s Afterparty took the stage as a ten-piece force, their massive horn section turning “Nothing to Lose” into a prophecy as every brass player stepped forward for a solo. Featuring Jamie and Conor Egan of Catch 22, the lineage was clear, but the intent was not nostalgic. Jamie led with revivalist preacher charisma and witch-doctor authority, bouncing effortlessly between guitar, trumpet, trombone, keys and lead vocals. Only their second show, and already a vision of what ska becomes when it refuses restraint.

The Ghost of Skalidays Present followed, grabbing the room by the collar and refusing to let go. This was my second time seeing Keep Flying this year, but January and December might as well have been different lifetimes. In between, they released their stunning debut full-length Time & Tide, and sharpened every edge. The energy was immediate and infectious, spreading through the room like measles in a red county. The crowd caught it all at once and refused to recover.

As a former marching band fuckup drummer who would lose the beat each time I blinked, watching someone play drums with a lollipop was both impressive and envy-inducing. The band even filmed a video for “Super Symmetry” during the set, bottling chaos in real time. This was far from the first time I’d gotten to see these dudes grace a stage… but it was absolutely the best. It was a set that left the room euphoric, soaked and gasping for breath… the present moment stretched to its absolute limit.

Finally, the Ghost of Skalidays Past arrived… not as memory, but as continuation. Jeff Davidson has fronted Catch 22 a handful of times over the last twenty years, but this was my first time witnessing it in that span, and there was no rust to shake off.

Celebrating the 25th anniversary of Alone In The Crowd (humble brag fully intact, I was at the album’s release show in October 2000) the band filled the room with songs that have lived entire lives inside their audience.

Six trombonists joined the stage for “Leaving,” turning it into a communal benediction, even though KG gave them shit for playing the same note instead of harmonizing. Austin from Joker’s Republic was pulled to the stage for the closer “1234 1234,” but spent most of the night planted in the crowd, singing along, no green room, no big-timing. A few notes flubbed. A line forgotten. The imperfections made it real. Made it theirs. Made it ours.

This wasn’t just a show. It was screaming into the cold like our early twenties had never ended, and realizing that the ache in our backs and the rasp in our voices were not signs of loss… but of survival. This was a resurrection. A love letter. A group therapy session conducted in upstrokes and brass. We did not leave younger. We left truer. Our hearts were full.

Six nights before Christmas, the Ghosts of Skalidays did what Dickens always promised his spirits would do… they reminded us that joy is not something we outgrow. It is something we carry forward. ”May You Never Lose Your Flame” indeed. And for one night, in a room too small to hold it all, we carried it together.