Hunny

About Hunny

Hunny started in Newbury Park, California in 2014, which is about as unglamorous a Southern California suburb as you can get. The band formed when Jason Yarger (vocals), Jake Goldstein (guitar), and Kevin Grimmett (keyboards/vocals) started making music together, eventually adding Joey Anderson on bass and later solidifying their lineup. They came up during that mid-2010s moment when indie rock was getting shinier and more synth-heavy, but still wanted to sound like a band.

Their early EPs captured something specific about being young and aimless in California. "Pain / Ache / Loving" and "Newbury St." showcased their knack for turning mundane suburban melancholy into something catchy. The production was polished but not overcooked, and Yarger's vocals had this deadpan quality that kept the songs from tipping into pure sugar. "Cry For Me" became their early calling card, the kind of song that sounds sad and danceable at the same time.

The breakthrough, if you can call it that, came gradually through streaming and touring rather than any single moment. They signed with Epitaph Records, which made sense given the label's history of supporting bands that don't fit neatly into one box. Their 2019 full-length "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes." showed a band refining what they did best: writing hooks that stick without trying too hard, layering guitars and synths without overcrowding the mix. Songs like "Cry For Me" (re-recorded) and "Speed" felt bigger and more confident than the early material.

What's interesting about Hunny is how they managed to exist in multiple spaces without fully committing to any of them. Too indie for pop radio, too polished for DIY purists, too earnest for the irony crowd. They built their audience through consistent touring, playing festivals and supporting bigger acts, the old-fashioned way of actually showing up places.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes." dealt with the usual subjects—relationships, anxiety, wanting more than what you have—but avoided the worst impulses of their genre. The songs moved. They didn't overstay their welcome. Yarger's lyrics had enough specificity to feel like actual thoughts rather than algorithm-friendly mood boards.

Since then, they've continued releasing music and touring, though the pandemic obviously complicated things for a band whose entire model depended on playing shows. They've kept their sound consistent while tweaking around the edges, adding more electronic elements here, stripping things back there. They're not reinventing themselves every album, which is probably wise.

Currently, Hunny occupies that middle tier of indie rock where you're successful enough to keep going but not so big that people expect constant reinvention. They've found their sound and seem content to explore within it. For fans who discovered them early, they're still making the same kind of smart, melancholic pop-rock that worked in 2016. That consistency is either their greatest strength or their limitation, depending on what you want from a band.

Hunny shows are intimate and a bit understated. Audiences lean in rather than lose their minds, responsive to the subtleties in the songs. There's an air of people recognizing themselves in the lyrics, nodding along to tracks that feel like inside jokes delivered from stage.

Known for Would You Rather, Good Luck, Run, Talk Too Much, Like I Do

See Hunny Live