jakehinze* is stepping into a new era — and it’s only getting louder
There’s something special happening in the Phoenix music scene right now — and jakehinze* is right at the center of it.
We caught the band live at The Rebel Lounge on March 18, and from the moment they stepped on stage, it was clear this wasn’t just another local opener. This was a band that knows exactly how to command a room — even if you’ve never heard a single song before.
And honestly, that might be the best way to describe a jakehinze* show: you don’t need to know the music to feel it.
a sound that refuses to sit still
Originally starting as Jake Hinze’s solo project, jakehinze* has evolved into something much bigger — a full band rooted in experimentation, collaboration, and a refusal to stay in one lane.
“We're still trying to figure that out,” Jake shares. “It started as ‘everything in my head in sonic form,’ but now it’s turned into this dream pop alt rock band where everyone’s influences are shaping the sound.”
That evolution is especially present as they work toward their debut album, Change of Pace, set to release early this summer. The project pulls from everywhere — yacht rock, punk, ‘80s pop, synth-driven textures — creating a sound that feels unpredictable in the best way.
It’s genre-blurring without feeling forced — something that feels increasingly rare.
built in phoenix, shaped by community
There’s a certain pride that comes through when the band talks about Phoenix — and it makes sense.
Growing up in the city and now playing venues they once attended as fans, there’s a full-circle energy behind what they’re doing.
“Phoenix is so musically diverse,” Jake says. “There’s a lot of bands trying new things… and it doesn’t feel competitive. Everyone’s just making music for the love of it.”
That spirit shows up in their sound — and even more in their live performance.
There’s a looseness to it, a willingness to experiment without overthinking, that feels directly tied to the scene they came up in. Nothing about it feels overly polished or calculated — it’s instinctual, collaborative, and constantly evolving. You can feel that sense of community in the room, too — not just from the band, but from the crowd that shows up ready to be part of it.
It’s the kind of environment that allows a band like jakehinze* to exist without needing to fit into a single lane — and instead build something that feels entirely their own.
a live show that pulls you in
Some bands play a set. jakehinze* builds an experience.
From the moment they step on stage, there’s a constant sense of movement — not just in the music, but in how they carry the room. The energy never dips, and neither does the connection. Even if you walked in without knowing a single song, it wouldn’t matter — you’re pulled in almost instantly.
Part of that comes from how fluid everything feels. The band leans into live experimentation, weaving in interludes and shifting arrangements in a way that keeps the set feeling dynamic and unpredictable. It reflects what Jake shared about their songwriting process — nothing is ever fixed too early, and that same mindset carries into how the music translates live.
There’s also a real sense of trust between the band and the audience. It doesn’t feel overly rehearsed or rigid — it feels lived-in, like everyone is part of the moment as it’s happening. That looseness, that willingness to let things evolve in real time, is what makes the set so engaging from start to finish.
And then there’s Jake himself.
Confident, magnetic, and completely in control of the room, he has that rare ability to command attention without ever feeling overbearing. It’s natural, effortless — the kind of presence that makes you believe in what you’re watching. He knows how to work a crowd, but more importantly, he knows how to make them feel like they’re part of something.
It’s the kind of performance that sticks with you — not because of one specific moment, but because of how consistently strong it is the entire way through.
By the end of the set, one thing is clear: this isn’t just a band finding their footing — it’s a band stepping confidently into what’s next.
momentum that’s only building
While the band describes their growth as a steady build rather than one defining moment, it’s clear they’re stepping into something bigger.
There’s a quiet confidence in the way they talk about what’s next — and an even louder one in how they perform. It doesn’t feel like they’re trying to prove anything anymore. It feels like they already know what they’re capable of, and now it’s just a matter of time before more people catch on.
With their debut album Change of Pace slated for early summer, jakehinze* is entering a new era that feels more expansive, more intentional, and more fully realized than anything they’ve released before. The way they describe the project — pulling from everything from yacht rock to punk to ‘80s pop and synth-driven sounds — hints at a band that’s not interested in playing it safe.
And if their live show is any indication, that risk is going to pay off.
They’re already building momentum show by show, drawing in crowds that feel genuinely invested — not just watching, but engaging, moving, and coming back. There’s a sense that this isn’t just local buzz, but the early stages of something that could reach far beyond Phoenix.
Bands like this don’t stay under the radar for long.
jakehinze* feels like the kind of project you discover early — the one you remember seeing in a smaller room before everything starts to scale. The kind you keep coming back to because you can feel the growth happening in real time.
And if there’s one moment that captures that energy live, it’s “Pardon Me” — a track that, as the band put it, “goes so hard” — and it truly does. It’s the kind of song that instantly shifts the room, pulling everyone in and reminding you exactly why this band is one to watch.
And right now, they’re right at that turning point.
don’t miss this
If you get the chance to see jakehinze* live, take it.
Whether you know the songs or not, it won’t matter. You’ll leave impressed — and probably already planning to see them again.
Photography + coverage by Everyday Jams.
Evening Elephants Turn a Glitch Into a Moment at Crescent Ballroom
When Evening Elephants stepped onto the stage at Crescent Ballroom in Phoenix, the night didn’t begin with a dramatic downbeat or blinding lights. It began with a small technical hiccup — a drum component wasn’t plugged in.
Instead of scrambling or apologizing, the speakers filled with a SpongeBob-esque coastal interlude. It was absurd. It was funny. It dissolved the tension instantly.
The crowd laughed.
And then they launched into “Parking Lot Problems.”
From that first real downbeat, playful shifted into electric. What could have been an awkward opening became an icebreaker — a reminder that live music is unpredictable, and sometimes better for it.
Frontman Sam Boggs doesn’t perform like someone confined to one genre. He moves between rhythmic, near-spoken phrasing and expansive melodic lines with ease. His lower register feels grounded and conversational; his higher notes stretch clean and controlled without tipping into theatrical.
There’s elasticity in his voice — but more than that, there’s control. Even in moments that feel loose, nothing sounds accidental. Live, the shifts feel sharper and more immediate than on record, less polished and more alive.
He doesn’t dominate the stage in a flashy way. Instead, he inhabits it — letting the music expand around him.
Behind him, Brandon “B” Leslie anchors everything.
Watching him settle in after the opening glitch made something clear: this is a drummer who builds momentum, not just tempo. His playing is tight without feeling mechanical, powerful without excess. The fills land with intention. The transitions feel earned.
Even when the set pulls back dynamically, there’s a steady composure underneath it all — a current running through the room. The mythology in their origin story may center around rhythm, but live, it feels justified. Leslie doesn’t overplay. He drives.
And that difference matters.
The energy never plateaued, but “Rent Free” felt like ignition.
Live, the track expands — louder, faster, more kinetic than its studio version. The crowd responded immediately, folding into the rhythm without hesitation. In a room like Crescent Ballroom, that exchange changes the temperature. It stops feeling like a performance and starts feeling collective.
The room wasn’t just watching. It was participating.
What lingers most isn’t the technical hiccup or even the vocal range. It’s adaptability.
There was no visible frustration at the start of the night — just instinct. Presence. A band comfortable enough to let unpredictability become part of the show rather than something to fight against.
By the end of the set, Crescent felt smaller than it actually is — like everyone in the room had been pulled into the same current. Evening Elephants don’t perform like a band chasing perfection. They perform like a band fully present.
If they pass through your city, it’s worth stepping into the room. Their set isn’t insular or niche — it’s expansive, the kind of live show that meets you wherever you are and pulls you forward with it.
Chaotic when it needs to be. Controlled when it counts. And built for more than just one night in Phoenix.
Evening Elephants are currently on tour.
Photography + coverage by Everyday Jams.
Melt Came to Life at The United Theater: Inside Not For Radio’s Swan Lake–Inspired Performance
On Saturday, January 24, I stepped into The United Theater on Broadway in downtown Los Angeles and experienced a performance that felt less like a concert and more like a carefully staged piece of theater. Not For Radio’s live presentation of Melt unfolded as a two-act performance inspired by Swan Lake — dramatic, emotional, and impossibly intentional.
The United Theater itself set the tone before a single note was played. Originally opened in 1927 as the United Artists Theatre, the space was commissioned by Hollywood icons Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, and D.W. Griffith as a temple to storytelling. Nearly a century later, its Spanish Gothic architecture, soaring ceilings, and ornate detailing still feel sacred. Being inside a room built for spectacle and narrative made the night feel elevated from the very beginning.
The show opened with a string quartet, immediately signaling that this would not follow the structure of a traditional live set. Instead, the evening unfolded deliberately, moving through two distinct acts — much like a ballet — each with its own emotional arc. The pacing was quiet and cinematic, inviting the audience to sit with the music rather than rush through it.
When María took the stage, the room fell into a reverent stillness. The way her vocals filled the theater felt magnetic and angelic, stretching effortlessly into every corner of the space. Her voice carried a weightless power — restrained yet commanding — perfectly suited for a performance rooted in classical inspiration. In a venue like The United Theater, every note lingered, suspended in air.
Melt was performed live in full, allowing the album’s emotional depth to unfold exactly as intended. Each song felt like a chapter, woven together with careful transitions and moments of silence that made the experience feel theatrical rather than performative. The influence of Swan Lake was subtle but present — not literal, but emotional — reflected in the fluidity of the staging, the tension between softness and strength, and the sense of transformation throughout the night.
Some of the most striking moments came with unreleased tracks “Comet” and “Living Room.” Shared quietly and without spectacle, they felt intimate and fleeting — like being invited into a private rehearsal rather than a public performance. Hearing them in that space, before they belong to the wider world, made the experience feel incredibly special.
There were also thoughtful, tactile details woven throughout the evening. María shared some of her favorite YSL beauty products with the audience, blurring the line between artist and observer and reinforcing the feeling that this night was meant to be shared, not simply watched.
As the second act drew to a close, it became clear that this wasn’t just a show — it was a fully realized vision. One that honored the history of the venue, the emotional core of Melt, and the idea of live music as something immersive and transformative.
Not For Radio at The United Theater wasn’t simply beautiful — it was transportive. A rare moment where album, performance, and space aligned perfectly. To witness Melt come to life in such an iconic room, during such a limited run, felt genuinely magical — the kind of night that stays with you long after the curtain falls.