THE WRONG OMAR aka Joey Sheehan sings his “sidewalk confessionals of bad choices” with a tongue-in-cheek curmudgeon persona for old souls of all ages. His solo acoustic show follows a string of radio and TV performances throughout the Southeast and Mid-West. Soulful work on the piano leads to a set of guitar/harp and foot tambo songs that can be best described as: “crying tears of joy while making love”. You might also laugh yourself silly with some of his stories.

Be warned: you may walk away with these tunes stuck in your head, and you will be encouraged to sing along at times too.

The Wrong Omar presents a night of roots/folk/rock with blues harp, stories and rock & roll aphorisms.

“There are all kinds of unique indie artists out there making their mark on the musical landscape, but few bring such uniqueness in terms of both vocals and songwriting like The Wrong Omar… …the disc hums along with a pleasant, accessible artistry – things kick off with the sunny, energetic sensibilities of More than Miles, then glide effortlessly into Spit It Out. The cleverly-penned Zemblanity follows – again tapping into a handful of genres that gel together refreshingly well…”  Mark Weber, Red Deer Express

“…My uncle Joey, musically known as, The Wrong Omar, is a one man band of sorts who plays guitar, harmonica, tambourine on one foot, bass drum on the other and sings simultaneously. Tell me this probably isn’t the coolest person you will ever meet Joe’s not only a fantastic musician but an incredible performer and has a witty story that accompanies almost every song. I have listened to some of these stories what seems like a thousand times and every time, without fail, I am totally and completely engrossed, even eager to hear punchlines I’ve heard before. When I was younger, we would pop in his c.d. on long road trips and every time I am lucky enough to hear him play, especially hearing his classics a.k.a Ms Ellie or Monopoly, I can close my eyes and imagine, staring out the window sleepy eyed in the back seat of the minivan as we made our way back from Quetico into a sea of black studded with twinkling city lights…” Erin Moser, Mountains and Microbes