Fat Mezz Was MMRBQ
The first band onstage and the one still echoing when the amps cooled down.
It’s just past 5PM on a perfect May Saturday at MMRBQ, and Fat Mezz has already played twice. The second set just ended, this time on the smaller stage, and the air still crackles. Marty and I are up front, flipping through the photos we snapped. That last song is still ringing in our ears. The crowd hasn’t scattered yet. Everyone’s still buzzing, talking, reliving it.
Then we spot him, a man with an “ARTIST” badge dangling around his neck, heading behind the barricade. I motion him over.
“Are you their manager?” I ask.
He smiles and tells me he’s the bassist’s dad.
“You must be so proud,” I say. “Your son is a monster player.”
We shake hands. A minute later, Marty spots the drummer, Corey, coming offstage and shouts, “Purdie shuffle!” Corey’s head whips around like someone just dropped the secret password. That’s drummer code.
They talk for a minute, two drummers instantly in sync. Marty compliments his drumming, mentions he saw him playing open-handed. Corey grins and says he’s a lefty. Marty lights up. “Me too.” Corey asks if he plays open-handed too. Marty tells him no, he plays closed, but wishes he could go back and learn it the other way.
It’s a moment that sums up the whole vibe of Fat Mezz: tight musicianship, open hearts, no barrier between the band and the crowd.
After their exchange, I hand Corey a Bandit Signal sticker and tell him what we’re doing — chronicling bands that don’t just sound like rock and roll — they remind you why it still matters. I say we’d love to ask them a few questions sometime. Corey nods, still catching his breath, and tells us to reach out on Instagram.
Strike the Match: 1PM on the Main Stage
Let’s rewind a couple hours.
Before the backstage handshake, before the shout of “Purdie shuffle,” Fat Mezz was on the main stage. First band of the day. One o’clock sharp. And they weren’t easing anybody in gently.
They launched straight into original material. No warmups, no covers. “Three Years and a Day,” “Lucky,” and “Just Call My Name” were all part of the set, and each one hit with the polish of a band that’s been burning through venues night after night and the edge of one that’s just getting started. No filler, no autopilot. Just four guys stretching a tight half-hour set into something that felt like a warning shot: pay attention, we’re not here to blend in.
Their sound is classic but not retro. Heavy, but not posturing. Harmonies you don’t expect from a band this loud. Solos that never drift into wankery. They play like a gang. Four members. Four singers. All locked in.
A Four-Headed Beast With a Groove
Fat Mezz doesn’t have a frontman. It has four. The band’s identity is built on being a four-headed beast — leadership shifts fluidly, and the groove never hinges on one personality.
Guitarists Billy Thoden and Kurt Foster swap riffs and leads like a telepathic tag team. Dom Levy’s basslines punch through the mix with melody and grit. He takes the mic for several originals and practically radiates rhythm. And Corey Chodes behind the kit? Not just a timekeeper. He plays open-handed. He drops a Purdie shuffle into a rock set. That’s bold. That’s gutsy. That’s style.
Marty said it best walking away from the small stage:
“I’ve never seen a band with this much energy and originality. The drummer plays open-handed and threw a damn Purdie shuffle into a rock song. That’s not just cool — that’s bold as hell.”
From the mouths of young drummers. Truth.
From the Shore to the Pavilion
If you’re from South Jersey or Philly, Fat Mezz probably already crossed your radar. Maybe it was at the Wharf in Wildwood, or a cover-heavy marathon at Sea Isle. They’ve spent the past five years turning every bar and beer garden on the shore into a proving ground, building chops, building stamina, building a real following. Burning through that many venues gave them something most young bands never develop: chemistry under pressure.
Their early buzz came from uncanny covers — Hendrix, Zeppelin, The Doors — played with real heart and grit. But starting in 2023, they made the pivot that separates live acts from legacy. They started putting out originals. First came the EP, Fat Mezz Loves Cooter. The the EP included “Pretty Blonde Noose” and “How Would You Know.” The singles that followed were “Perfect” and “Sleepin’ With the Fish.” Now, in 2025, they’re releasing a new song on the first of every month.
And in the middle of all that? They’re still playing like it’s 1970 and they’ve got nothing to lose.
Back Again: 4:45 and the Groove Gets Tighter
The second set at MMRBQ could’ve been a letdown — smaller stage, people pulled in every direction. It wasn’t. It was electric. Somehow, it hit even harder than their main stage set. Perhaps it was the open air, the breeze, the sun beating down on the crowd. Summer was fucking here and Fat Mezz brought the spiked lemonade.
They played like a band on the verge of blowing up. The groove got passed back and forth like a live wire. Dom’s basslines dug in deeper. Billy’s solos loosened and soared. Kurt added color and punch. And Corey’s drums? Driving, anchoring, pulling everything forward without ever showing off.
Fat Mezz isn’t a nostalgia act. They’re not stuck in the past — they’re pulling its best parts forward. Their songs sound like classics you somehow missed. Their live shows felt like a party you want to crash. And their vibe? Grit over gloss. All in. No pretense.
This is a band with nearly 9,000 monthly listeners now — soon to be more. Because they’re doing the work. Writing. Releasing. Touring. Connecting. Sweating. Growing. And most importantly, showing up. First band on. And the biggest standout from the whole goddamn event.
So yeah, we’ll be reaching out on Instagram. But this article is the first message. A thank you for the music. For the moment. For the groove passed hand to hand like a secret. For the rare feeling that this is something worth sticking around for.
And for reminding us that rock and roll means something.