Zebrahead don’t age so much as they molt, since 1996, the SoCal crew have ridden pop-punk’s sugar rush into rap-rock grit, ska curious bounce, and back again. The best bit? It’s always with a grin that says, ‘Let’s make this wild.’
When we caught up with bassist Ben Osmundson, the conversation veered exactly where long time fans would hope, longevity, out there moments, and the joy of being the odd ones out.
Longevity without the beige
We talked about what keeps Zebrahead ticking when so many peers tapped out, think relentless touring, zero pretence, and songs built to be shouted back in sticky clubs. There’s honesty in admitting the grind can get prickly, the trick is knowing when to laugh, when to step back, and when to hit the stage like it’s night one.
The sensible one (and signing body parts)
Every band has a de facto adult right? Zebrahead’s version keeps the trains moving when passports wander and rider rules bend. Fan culture remains gloriously unhinged, too, yes, there are body part signatures and stories you only tell at closing time.
Royalty vs outsiders
They’ve shared stages with Blink, Green Day, and Sum 41. Do they feel ‘pop-punk royalty’? Osmundson leans into the outsider tag, after all the band’s hybrid DNA was never about fitting a lane. That misfit energy is the point, and it’s why the catalogue still feels live wired.
New fans, new lens
Gen-Z arrives without the 2000s baggage, hearing Zebrahead as genre-fluid before ‘genre-fluid’ was a sellable term. The mosh etiquette is different, the memes are better, and the pit sings every hook.
Covers and what’s next
If a left field cover makes the set, expect something joyfully wrong footed, catchy enough to flip a crowd, unexpected enough to feel like a dare. As for stateside plans, watch this space, the band’s compass is rarely still for long.
Zebrahead have outlasted trends by refusing to sand down the rough edges, that’s not nostalgia, it’s craft, and it still hits like a cold beer to the back of the throat.