Is that possible?
Check some of the names Jimmy Eat World shared bills with before even the New Millennium: Rancid, blink-182, Green Apple Quickstep, Supergrass, Mr. T Experience, The Get Up Kids, Smoking Popes, Bad Religion, The Promise Ring, Burning Airlines, Sense Field, even The Vandals and Fear. The Offspring fit many of those slots. Plus, if you caught “Lucky Denver Mint” on modern-rock radio in 1999, “Why Don’t You Get a Job?” wasn’t far behind.
There’s a half-connection, though, in the wayback days. Drummer Lind recalls supporting the Epitaph-era Offspring with World rhythm guitarist Tom Linton in an outfit called No Longer Plaid at downtown Phoenix’s Silver Dollar. This was the early ’90s, before Chase Field swallowed those blocks.
Anyway, when you read this paragraph, the guys will be closer to home. Here. Where it continues, where it all began. And if you catch them Wednesday, Aug. 27, at the Talking Stick Resort Amphitheatre, frontman/guitarist Adkins has but one word.
“Hydrate,” he advises.
“Everyone needs to hydrate now.” “Start drinking fluids,” Lind adds, “because it’s gonna be hot.”
Spoken like true Arizonans.
And oh, yeah, play this loud
Jimmy Eat World is Mesa to its core, a 1993 punk communion of Mountain View and Westwood high school kids, though Adkins and Lind’s kinship began much earlier. Tom Linton and original bassist Mitch Porter were neighborhood friends. One could say its birth was preordained.A rabid youth ruled three early releases, starting with a snotty demo slabbed as Thursday, Jan. 20, 1994, lurched toward Friday, Jan. 21. ’Twas so DIY, members (Adkins, usually, though everyone shared the task) scribbled “Yes, I wrote all of these by hand” in pen across its cassette labels. Later that year, Tempe indie Wooden Blue Records shepherded the 7-inch “One, Two, Three, Four” EP and a self-titled full-length CD. All ride scrumptious hooks, rife with taut puissance, and in their rarity, rank as prized collectors’ items. One Discogs user lamented last year that he couldn’t find the eponymous disc, sighing, “I’ve been refreshing this page every day looking for it, 24/7.” Another recently offered to part with the first tape, “little to no wear throughout,” for $2,000.
As its sound evolved — audible on “Digits,” recorded first for a split with Christie Front Drive — Jimmy Eat World took off. And in 1995, when record companies swept through cities sniffing for post-alt grub, that trajectory took a wild swerve. Capitol A&R man Craig Aaronson courted the band after a benefit show at Mesa’s Nile Theater. Porter left the lineup for missionary work and was replaced by Carrier bassist Rick Burch, launching a strange but rewarding journey. The East Valley had taken these guys to heart, but how about America?
An answer to that question took some time. The mainstream caught glimpses of the band in the video for “Rockstar,” B-side to lead single “Call It in the Air,” from 1996 Capitol debut “Static Prevails.” “Glimpses” ’cause faces dive in and out of frame. Angles sometimes linger on feet. The action starts on Linton’s head bowed before the mic, throwing itself into the track’s ferocity. Adkins, at second guitar, appears primarily in an ageless profile. Burch looms as his bass thrums. Limbs and equipment obscure Lind at the kit. In a way, the presentation mirrored Jimmy Eat World’s own visibility at the label, which ended its association with the quartet shortly after releasing follow-up “Clarity” in early 1999.
Everything could have ended there. But holy shit, did it not. For upon both “Clarity” and a Fueled by Ramen EP romped the sweet-harmonied, sun-riffed “Lucky Denver Mint.” Radio stations spun it, and it earned additional exposure via “Never Been Kissed,” a romantic comedy led by Drew Barrymore. Footage from the box-office hit invaded the “Mint” video, beginning with the actress in character achingly asking, “Don’t you know just how much I wanted to be you in high school, just for one day, to know what it was like to be popular?” A question that’s dogged many a soul.
“Clarity’s” now regarded as a vital milestone in the development of third-wave emo (the band even earned a chapter in Andy Greenwald’s 2003 genre study “Nothing Feels Good”), quite a coup for a disc dumped into the marketplace sans ceremony. Chicago teen Tracie Amirante already knew what it would mean, opining upon its bow, “It’s more than rock. It’s more than pop. It’s more than emo. ‘Clarity’ is an ‘everything’ record.”
Everything, everything’ll be just fine
Free from Capitol, the band moved to DreamWorks, where the floodgates burst open on 2001’s “Bleed American.” The album went platinum on the strength of “Sweetness” and its title track (Nos. 2 and 18 Alternative Airplay, respectively) and, of course, the monstrous “The Middle” (No. 5 Pop), whose popular Paul Fedor video spoke to those longing for meaningful connections beyond superficial frivolities.Fans grabbed Jimmy Eat World and never let go, through three more major-label efforts, including Interscope’s gold-selling “Futures” (2004) — featuring “Pain” (No. 1 Alternative Airplay) and “Work” (No. 6 Alternative Songs) — as well as “Chase This Light” (2007), a No. 5 power-pop-punk colossus, and the No. 11 “Invented” (2010). A declared independence covered the Top 20 “Damage” (2013) and “Integrity Blues” (2016) and continues through “Surviving” (2019). Taylor Swift blessed them in an Apple ad and has dropped “The Middle” into set lists, once within feet of Adkins himself. (They’ve thanked her by taking “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” for occasional spins, too.)
The system under which it toiled may not persevere, but Jimmy Eat World’s forever now. Especially at home, where these four nice guys from Mesa — intact since “Static Prevails” — were feted last October with an official Jimmy Eat World Day. Phoenix mayor Kate Gallego called them “impactful.” They’d “built this city,” she said. These now-pioneers then rocked The Van Buren to rubble with a live performance of the “Futures” album. “Say hello to good times,” Adkins sang. “Trade up for the fast ride.” And what a ride it’s been. But Adkins and Lind will take the story from here. After all, they’re living it.
We realize we’re in a future memory
Phoenix New Times: Combing through your past, I came across names like Aquanaut Drinks Coffee, Spaceman Spiff, Pine Wyatt and Carrier, who were all musical contemporaries of yours, one of whom became one of you. Could you describe Mesa and the East Valley musically and culturally as you grew up?Jim Adkins: It was an archipelago of punk-rock islands, smaller niche communities around the valley. This is also before the Internet as we know it, connections within a very analog world. We got to know these other people with similar interests. Our friend group was probably a couple dozen people, and everyone was in bands and interested in the same things.
I tracked you as far back as I could. The first mention I could find of you playing live is a Mesa Valentine’s Day show in 1994, which was described as your first-ever show, then June 4 with Rancid and Aquanaut Drinks Coffee at Boston’s in Tempe. What were your favorite local spots?
Zach Lind: Boston’s was one of them. We got a lot of opportunities to open for bands like Face to Face and Rancid. Those were big shows, opportunities for us to make a name for ourselves, at least in the local valley area. We played Nita’s Hideaway (Tempe) a few times later. That was a good spot for us.
Adkins: Hollywood Alley (Mesa).
Lind: Hollywood Alley was an important place. Like-minded local and national bands we liked would come through. We definitely played a lot of important shows at the Nile. We opened for Sebadoh there (Feb. 18, 1995). Our A&R guy from Capitol saw us play for the first time at the Nile.
Was there one, especially, a band aspired to play?
Adkins: It was more about just getting out. That was the goal: to play on tour, to play other cities. The big places in town, like what was the Dodge Theatre (Arizona Financial Theatre) at the time, didn’t cross our minds, even as a dream.
I was heartened to discover a real affinity out there for your early and Wooden Blue recordings, especially your self-titled full-length. Do you think you’ll ever reissue those?
Adkins: Unsure. It’s a document of us in our senior year of high school, more or less. (laughs) It’s not at all what we’re capable of doing now. But you really can’t be hard on your younger self for things you didn’t know or couldn’t do. It’s a time capsule. Speaking of time capsules: Interestingly, we’re having this conversation about 29 years and a week after the release of “Static Prevails” (July 23, 1996), your Capitol debut. How do you remember that record and those times?
Lind: A whirlwind. It was our first time in a studio making an album for a major label. Sound City in L.A. was way nicer than any we’d been in before. So many amazing records made there: Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours,” Nirvana’s “Nevermind,” Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers.” We were in awe. Being in those spaces was a bit of a mindfuck. We tried to do the best we could and put our best foot forward, but we were so inexperienced. We knew enough to know that we didn’t know what we were doing. For me, it was a mixture of being scared, excited and frustrated. But looking back, “Static Prevails” was a huge creative step forward. We were very proud of the end result.
You entered the majors at an interesting period. The Internet was used primarily as a marketing tool, and the digital upheaval was still a few years away. Things were changing, yet I still picture guys at meetings saying, “If this record doesn’t make first-week projections, it’s dead.”
Lind: I don’t think we were talked about at any morning meetings. We were so below the radar they weren’t even considering week-one sales. We’d show up at Capitol and say, “We’re here. We’re Jimmy Eat World,” and they’d say, “Who? Who is that? Who are you?” They barely knew we were there.
Obviously, it was frustrating for us back then because we at least wanted to feel like we were part of the label, valued, appreciated and supported. A small handful of people were very supportive of what we were doing. But it was a blessing in disguise, because had there been all this expectation, or had anyone been genuinely worried about our week-one sales, we would have been so cooked.
The great thing about being on Capitol was that we got album-making experience and received support that our friends in other bands weren’t seeing from their labels, but we were so under the radar. We were actually putting out releases on other labels with songs we made with Capitol money, and they didn’t even know it. It allowed us the time and space to develop, to learn what we were doing.
As we moved into “Clarity,” we took our “Static Prevails” experience and incorporated it into our way forward. It was totally night and day: We’ve done this before and kind of know what we’re doing. We’ve learned a lot. But we were kind of in the same position with the label. No one cared. No one knew what we were up to. I don’t think our A&R guy came to the studio more than once. But we were getting support and kind of getting away with something. We made a record we were proud of, put it out, and that helped us get to the next step: becoming a drawing touring act. We could go to Philadelphia, New York and D.C. People began showing up at our shows, which was not the case when we made “Static Prevails.”
Capitol released “Clarity,” but then released you. Weirdly, the song “Lucky Denver Mint” then took off, and “Clarity” became both a classic and a launching pad. (Jimmy Eat World celebrated its release Saturday and Sunday, Feb. 27-28, 1999, at Tempe’s Green Room.) What do you suppose would have happened had that first disc sold well and Capitol kept you after the initial two-record deal?
Adkins: It’s hard to say. I think that would have been a very negative long-term development. It was valuable, like Zach said, to have time that is impossible to have now to develop anonymously (laughs) and just learn. We were definitely getting away with a major heist.
Everything we were able to take was for the sole purpose of reinvesting in ourselves. We took our work and the opportunity to work very seriously, but it’d be ridiculous to take it seriously, like, “This is going to be our career. This is something we can expect to support ourselves on” (laughs) in those times. We wouldn’t have made the records we made had it gone any other way.
Lind: When we were dropped from Capitol after “Clarity,” we signed with DreamWorks. I know this for a fact: We wouldn’t have had the same support and push on a third album for Capitol. The way it worked out for us was perfect in terms of allowing “Bleed American” to be on a different label with a different staff, people who were excited about and valued the band. That fresh start and new scenery were what “Bleed American” really needed.
Why do you think “Bleed American” resonated the way it did?
Lind: The songs are strong. We’re playing them now, and they all have some kind of hook that ended up meaning something to people. Tonally, it’s a bit more rock ’n’ roll and straightforward. Compared to “Clarity,” it’s maybe even more focused. That was just a step in the band’s evolution, putting together an album in a very intentional way.
What’s great about “The Middle” is its universal message, yet it seems personal for the band, too.
Lind: So many people have been able to connect to that song in so many ways, whether it’s someone getting through a tough time in middle or high school. We’ve heard from people who are battling cancer, and that song really helped them. Its message is so simple that people can see themselves in it in a way that they may not in some other song that may be slightly more abstract or esoteric. It has its own center of gravity, I think (laughs).
I’ve always wanted to ask you about your versions of Duran Duran’s “New Religion” and The Wedding Present’s “Spangle.” I recall the original “New Religion” as a great ’80s track and “Spangle” sounding like a gorgeously tattered memory. How did you go about interpreting those songs?
Adkins: “Spangle’s” pretty faithful, and the “New Religion” cover is an exercise in chasing an idea you’re excited about. A quick once-over of the bass line progression and the lyrics are the only things that are similar. My favorite covers are always the ones that artists took and made their own. “New Religion” was maybe one of the first times we went full-on trying to do that. (See also: Jimmy Eat World’s take on Radiohead’s “Stop Whispering” or Manchester Orchestra’s “Telepath.”)
In April 1999, Zach, you told the Newark Star-Ledger’s Lisa Rose, “‘Emo’ is the buzzword du jour. It means nothing. It just seems to be a hip word to call anything that’s non-jams or rock right now.” What’s your relationship to the term and its history in 2025?
Both: Pretty much the same (laughs).
JA: It’s a time-capsule word, like grunge.
Lind: Back then, we were constantly answering questions about that, and it became annoying. We certainly never called ourselves an emo band.
I think now we understand that there’s a shorthand music journalists use to describe things. Sometimes those phrases or genre tags don’t fully encapsulate what a band can do or is. So, there’s a natural and understandable yet adversarial relationship between the artist’s comfort in being pigeonholed and the writer trying to describe what he, she or they are to readers: “How do you place this band into this category with these others?” It’s part of the way people talk about music, but for someone in a band or creating something, once you’re down or comfortable with that, it feels limiting.
As we’ve gotten older, we understand that reality. It doesn’t elicit the same kind of annoyance, but we’re still here trying to make music we don’t want to put in any envelope or category. Hair metal bands probably felt the same way when someone said, “Oh, tell us about this new hair metal.” But I’ll use that term all the time. It is what it is.
You stayed with majors through 2010. What prompted you to say, “We can do this ourselves” and establish Exotic Location Recordings?
Adkins: With the way the industry was changing, it seemed that labels weren’t going to take as much of a chance on an unknown quantity. It was always sort of moving toward that trend, anyway: You must get their attention, prove some kind of success before they invest in you. With a band like ours, which had slowly been building autonomy with recording and our operations in general, it made sense that if we were going to work with a label, we would be making the record on our own and licensing it to them instead of looking to them for extra hands-on involvement. If you’re a younger band, labels are trying to tie you into 360 deals, and we want nothing to do with that. We’d rather use a bigger label for what it’s good for, as far as distribution goes, and handle the creative side on our own.
Tell me about revisiting “Clarity” and “Futures” live (the 2021 “Phoenix Sessions” series). How did you view them as older men?
Adkins: I still like them (laughs). I’m still proud of them.
Here’s what happens when you make a record: You’ll have ideas, go into a recording session where the sky’s the limit as far as your imagination goes, and create this piece of music. Then you’ll figure out, “OK, how am I going to perform this again?” You make choices, and you perform it. Over time, that performance ebbs and flows and takes on new life.
In a record that might have been released a decade ago, it’s educational to go back and listen to the original recordings. Because, in playing it over time, so much has changed that may or may not have been intentional. Maybe there are harmonies you’re not covering anymore. Maybe you’ve forgotten an element that should be featured more (laughs) because you’ve been playing it a different way. That was the biggest thing for me that jumped out in revisiting those.
Not many people of any age can say, “Something I started in high school with my friends is still a going concern.” How do you stay active and engaged as you get older, your priorities change and you’re no longer the kids who once wrote and sang, “Watch me melt from a man into a boy” (“Chachi”)?
Adkins: It’s about constantly challenging yourself musically. It’s not going to look the same over time. What challenged me three years ago is different than where I feel I want to go now. You’ve got to constantly leave that door open for yourself and look for the reward. Keep it fun. It’s supposed to be fun. There’s really no ceiling to how deep you can go, how far you can push yourself. It’s about enjoying the process.
How does it feel to have this catalog be such a part of people’s formative years when you yourselves were once pitched as kids with a contract who weren’t yet old enough to play certain venues?
Adkins: It’s wild, unexpected. We don’t take it for granted. We’re very grateful when anyone bothers to take the time to connect with something we did, especially now, because there’s so much more competition for your time. And it takes time to build those connections. So, if you’re going to spend time with something we did, that’s a huge deal.
Lind: There’re two sides to that coin. It’s cool hearing from other people, but it’s not something you really focus on because, along with Jim’s last answer, it’s “Where are you now?” “What’s challenging you now?” “What can you do musically now?” We’ve always been somewhat future-oriented in that we’re looking toward the next thing. It’s important to not get caught up in patting ourselves on the back. It’s a bit of a poison pill if you focus on that too much.
Anything new in the works?
Adkins: We’re always working on something. I can’t say that there’s enough put together for a new album, but we’re always working.
After all these years, Arizona holds you in high regard. What does it mean to you?
Lind: For me, personally, it’s just home. It’s where we grew up. We have a connection to it from the time we spent from being kids to adults, living and working in the area. Our home base is there. Our studio is there. I don’t really know exactly how the area has directly influenced what we do, but it has, because there’s no way it couldn’t. It’s all we’ve known, really.
Jimmy Eat World, New Found Glory and The Offspring will perform at 7 p.m. on August 27 at Talking Stick Resort Amphitheatre on the latter's SUPERCHARGED Worldwide in '25 tour.
