HebbaJebba Drops “Number 2”

HebbaJebba isn’t your typical Minneapolis band, and Number 2 isn’t your typical sophomore album. It’s an eclectic, gutsy, and unapologetically weird trip—a sprawling collection that reminds you why we fall in love with music in the first place. As the band insists, Number 2 is a full-album experience, one that demands you shut off the world for 42 minutes and dive into their bizarre, beautiful universe.

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Opening with “Swagger,” a stomping anthem that’s equal parts bravado and self-deprecation, HebbaJebba makes it clear they’re not out to play it safe. The guitar riffs, courtesy of Mark Ganje on “the good guitars,” are dirty and driving, pushing the track forward with an infectious energy that feels more garage-rock than anything polished and premeditated. But it’s this rawness that gives the album its charm, pulling you in from the very first note.

The band—Paul Gordhamer on drums and vocals, Tom Carlon on bass and vocals, Ted Hajnasiewicz on vocals and guitars, Ganje on guitars, and Brendan Ober playing, well, “all the rest”—bring an undeniable chemistry to every track. They aren’t afraid to let loose, and that freedom spills over into the music, giving each song an unpredictable edge. You never quite know where they’re taking you, but you trust them enough to follow.

One of the standout moments is the brooding “Wings of a Dove,” a track that feels like it should soundtrack a surreal desert road trip. Hajnasiewicz’s vocals hit just the right mix of vulnerability and edge, while the instrumentation behind him gradually builds into something that’s both haunting and cathartic. There’s a heaviness to the song, but it’s not the kind that weighs you down—it’s more like the kind that makes you reflect long after the music has stopped.

And then there’s “I’m Tired,” co-written with Matthew French, which shifts the mood yet again, sliding into a space that feels almost confessional. Gordhamer’s drumming is tight, never overwhelming, and it provides the perfect backbone for the song’s simple yet deeply affecting lyrics. The weariness in Hajnasiewicz’s delivery gives the track a heart-wrenching resonance that’s bound to linger with listeners.

What HebbaJebba does particularly well throughout Number 2 is keep you on your toes. One minute, they’ve got you headbanging along to something like “What Do You Want Me to Say,” a fast, gritty number packed with attitude; the next, they’ve got you sinking into the melancholic introspection of a slower, moodier cut. This back-and-forth keeps the album from ever feeling stagnant, offering something new with each song while maintaining a cohesive sonic identity.

But the real genius of Number 2 lies in its multimedia approach. The accompanying book—intended to be read as you listen—elevates the experience to something more than just an album. In an era where attention spans are short and singles reign supreme, HebbaJebba challenges their audience to sit with the art, to treat the album as a full-body experience. The book is packed with the kind of quirky details, photos, and musings that make you feel like you’re sitting in a room with the band as they tell their story. It’s a love letter to the days of vinyl, CD booklets, and the tactile joy of music consumption.

As HebbaJebba so eloquently puts it in the introduction to the book, the album isn’t about claiming to be “special,” but about the very act of stopping time. That’s what Number 2 feels like—a break in the relentless noise of the world, a space to just be with the music. You get the sense that every song, every note, every lyric is an invitation to step out of the chaos and into something that feels both timeless and fleeting.

Mastered by Ty Tabor at Alien Beans Studio, the production on the album maintains a balance between gritty, live-sounding performances and moments of unexpected clarity. Tabor has managed to preserve the band’s raw energy while polishing just enough of the edges to make it all fit together. This isn’t an overproduced, radio-ready album—it’s a labor of love from a group of musicians who clearly thrive in the unexpected.

HebbaJebba’s refusal to stick to one sound or formula is perhaps what makes Number 2 such a compelling listen. They’ve crafted an album that doesn’t just ask for your attention—it demands it. And once you’re in, you’re hooked, not because they’re playing to the trends, but because they’re playing for themselves.

In an era where much of modern rock feels like it’s been carefully packaged and focus-grouped, HebbaJebba stands out as a band that’s daring to be weird, to be different, and, most importantly, to be themselves. Number 2 is an album for anyone who misses the days when albums were an experience, not just a collection of singles.

And sure, HebbaJebba might be a little weird. But as they say, “weird is good.”

Nicole Killian