
More than once was I asked, “seriously, how do you know Third Eye? Your parents?”
I wouldn’t call them young, but after the set they unleashed in Raleigh it’d be wrong to call them old.
Donning a wrinkly all-black jumper that looked as though it should have been peppered with military regalia and stitched infantry patches, frontman and lead guitarist Stephan Jenkins no doubt drew confusion from the crowd as to how he was able to withstand the July heat, much less perform in it with such an outfit.
At times he serenaded with soft and sweet lyricism, presenting doe-ish auras and Bambi-like choreography, while at others he erupted into jerky flow-state dancing, jumping and gyrating that felt just a little erotic and seemed only to cease whence he was handed back his guitar.
Frankly it was difficult to say which persona he preferred - the instrumentist or the singer - or in fact if he had a preference at all. Though, I must note, never have I seen a guitar player so hindered by there guitar.
Third Eye Blind rocked and they rolled. It was a show to remember.