Quick—grab your headphones. Number 2, the latest album from Minneapolis’ HebbaJebba, isn’t just music; it’s an odyssey through rock’s golden past with a sharp detour into something distinctly their own. With one foot in the 70s, the other in the 90s, and their collective head in a dimension where rock never lost its edge, HebbaJebba delivers a layered, unpredictable ride that’s as thrilling as it is peculiar.
From the opening track, “Swagger,” it’s clear the band is here to make a statement. The song kicks things off with a strut that’s equal parts bravado and self-awareness. Just as you settle into its cocksure groove, it morphs into a swirling introspection, flipping the mood like a record needle sliding off track. By the time the final notes hit, you’re not sure if you’ve been hyped up or emotionally unzipped—and that’s exactly the point.
The band—Paul Gordhamer (drums, vocals), Tom Carlon (bass, vocals), Ted Hajnasiewicz (vocals, guitars), Mark Ganje (credited with “the good guitars”), and Brendan Ober (essentially everything else)—has crafted Number 2 with the meticulous care of sound architects. Each track feels like a sonic lasagna, layered with melody, distortion, and the occasional surprise spice.
Take “Wings of a Dove,” a standout ballad that sits at the album’s emotional core. Haunting and raw, it’s a track that feels like it’s holding its breath, with Hajnasiewicz’s vocals striking a perfect balance between clarity and ache. The song lingers like a memory you can’t quite place, its poignancy amplified by restrained instrumentation that knows exactly when to lean in and when to let go.
https://open.spotify.com/album/3vIaiWgNhUy8oQW7RvEEPI?autoplay=true
On the lighter side, “What Do You Want Me to Say,” co-written with Matthew French, brims with the exasperated energy of trying to explain the obvious for the hundredth time. It’s relatable, wry, and infused with just enough tension to keep you hooked, pairing sharp lyrics with a driving rhythm that refuses to relent. HebbaJebba knows how to keep things human, even when their music reaches for the stars.
The band’s trademark humor and irreverence shine throughout. Mark Ganje’s billing as the player of “the good guitars” is just the beginning—this wit is infused into the very DNA of the album. But don’t let the cheekiness fool you; there’s a precision to Number 2 that only comes from deep respect for their craft.
Still, if there’s a crack in the armor, it’s in the pacing. A few tracks linger just a touch too long, threatening to slow the album’s momentum. It’s not enough to derail the experience, but it does add a hiccup to an otherwise seamless journey.
Ultimately, HebbaJebba isn’t here to follow trends. With Number 2, they’re carving out their own space in rock’s sprawling landscape. Quirky, ambitious, and just a little unpredictable, this album invites you to sit back, turn up the volume, and let the music do its weird and wonderful thing. Rock might never have stopped being cool, but HebbaJebba ensures it’s also still fun as hell.
Anne Hollister
