Twenty years ago, Hoobastank were just four goofy kids with an unfortunate band name, some serious riffs, and a few VHS tapes they prayed would never see daylight. Spoiler: the internet found them anyway.
“Yeah, the name,” guitarist Dan Estrin sighs. “We had every intention of changing it. We’d even signed our record deal as individual members, so we could change the name and get a fresh start. But our A&R guy came to our first show after we signed — the crowd was chanting Hoobastank before, during, after. He goes, ‘You guys can’t change it. It has to be this.’ So that’s Paul Pontius’s fault forever.”
Blame or not, the name stuck. So did the riff-heavy crunch that helped Hoobastank sneak onto every Y2K rock radio playlist sandwiched between Deftones and P.O.D. “I wanted it heavy,” Dan says. “We were all going to Deftones shows at the Whiskey, sneaking into Korn gigs when we were underage, standing on the roof trying to watch. I’d be in the studio and our producer would ask, ‘Is it too heavy?’ Doug would just go, ‘What does that mean?!’”
Doug Robb, the voice that belted “Crawling in the Dark” and made The Reason the breakup soundtrack of an entire graduating class, still shrugs at whether he’s ‘found his voice.’ “Honestly, I still ask myself that every record,” he says. “I mean, the first time we did a real demo in ’94, I was like, oh wow — that’s me. But since then, I don’t know. It just changes with the song. I still haven’t found it, maybe.”
For all the chart success, they never pretended it was effortless. That debut album was basically stitched together from a scrapped EP, a dropped sax player, and the faint scent of teenage funk. “We were so funky back in the day!” Doug laughs. “Hoobastank made sense in ’95 when we had slap bass and horns. Then we got heavy. The name stayed. The stank never left.”
They hit pay dirt with “Crawling in the Dark” and “Running Away,” but the follow-up was the big curveball: “The Reason” — a pristine, vulnerable ballad that gave angsty teens a new confession booth and their parents something to hum while driving the carpool. Doug gets philosophical about it: “Love it or hate it, it expanded our audience. We went from sweaty clubs to amphitheaters with kids and their parents singing along. It was a trip — you love it while you’re hot, but those casual fans? The second you’re not on the radio, they’re gone. And you hope the ones who were there in the clubs stick around.”
Then the internet struck. Leaks, Limewire, Napster — all those demos they thought were buried ended up online. “It sucked,” Dan admits. “We were heartbroken. You think you’ve got this secret vault, then you come home and all your worst takes are out there. But now, hey, good luck finding it in the ocean of crap.”
And then TikTok brought the stank full circle. “I have a 10-year-old daughter and even she barely used TikTok,” Doug says. “Suddenly we hear, ‘Hey, there’s this challenge, 300 million people mouthing ‘I’m not a perfect person.’ We didn’t even have an account! Our manager goes, ‘Maybe chime in?’ So we did this video about regretting our band name. Boom — a million views overnight. I guess we’re relevant again.”
Twenty years later, they’re still plotting. The shows are trickling back, they’re eyeing a summer nostalgia tour, and Dan’s got “trash bags full of tapes” for a possible 20th anniversary doc. “It’s got everything,” Doug promises. “Us recording ‘Crawling in the Dark’ with our hair in our faces. Awful clothes. We looked awesome.”
As for a new record? Don’t hold your breath, but they’ve got ideas — and if it’s anything like their early days, expect a funk riff here, a massive chorus there, and a chorus of fans still chanting that terrible name. “Hey, we survived,” Doug grins. “Congratulations to us for just staying alive. That counts for something.”
Watch the interview above and then check out the video below.
