O.A.R.

About O.A.R.

O.A.R. started as what most bands start as: college friends messing around. Marc Roberge, Chris Culos, Richard On, Benj Gershman, and Jerry DePizzo met at Ohio State in 1996, playing parties and bars under the name Of A Revolution. They were doing the Dave Matthews thing before they probably realized that's what they were doing—mixing rock with reggae touches, jam band sprawl, and songs built for summer nights and lawn seating.

Their early years ran on the jam band circuit playbook. Constant touring, building a following one college town at a time, selling CDs out of a van. The Wanderer in 1997 and Soul's Aflame in 1999 were essentially calling cards, but 2001's Risen got them actual attention. "That Was a Crazy Game of Poker" became the song everyone knew, this laid-back story-song about a card game gone wrong that felt like it should've been written in 1972. It's still the one that gets the biggest reaction at shows.

In Time came in 2003 and went gold, which was the moment O.A.R. shifted from jam band staple to actual radio proposition. "Love and Memories" off 2005's Stories of a Stranger pushed them further into that space—a genuinely pretty song that didn't feel like they were chasing pop, just writing something sincere. Stories of a Stranger went platinum. They were headlining amphitheaters now, not just opening for whoever.

All Sides in 2008 gave them "Shattered (Turn the Car Around)," probably their most straightforward rock song and another one that crossed over. King in 2011 had "Heaven," which leaned into that arena-ready sound without losing the DNA. The Peace in 2014 and XX in 2016 found them refining rather than reinventing, which is pretty much where they've stayed. These aren't albums trying to chase trends. They're just O.A.R. doing O.A.R. things—Roberge's voice, DePizzo's sax lines, songs that work equally well at a festival or a wedding.

The Mighty came out in 2019, and they've spent the last few years doing what they've always done: touring relentlessly, playing Red Rocks annually like it's a family reunion, and maintaining a fan base that spans college kids discovering them now and people who saw them in basements twenty years ago.

They're not trying to be the next big thing, mostly because they already had their moment and built something sustainable from it. O.A.R. exists in that space where they can sell out venues, have a catalog everyone knows a few songs from, and keep making albums without the pressure to blow everything up. They've been doing this for almost thirty years. At this point, they've figured out the formula.

Their crowds tend toward the enthusiastic and familiar, with people who know the band inside-out mixed with friends along for the ride. Shows stretch long with extended jams and tangents. There's a palpable sense of permission in the room to just let loose, though it rarely feels chaotic. More sing-alongs than mosh pits.

Known for Crazy, Love and Memories, Shattered, Any Kind of Way, That Was a Crazy Game of Poker

See O.A.R. Live