There’s a version of the Lumineers story that ends about a decade ago, in the wake of the two-piece folk-rock band’s struggle to duplicate the pop success of its debut single. The platonic ideal of the Obama-era stomp-clap sound also purveyed by Mumford & Sons and Of Monsters and Men, 2012’s Grammy-nominated “Ho Hey” made improbable stars of singer-guitarist Wesley Schultz and drummer Jeremiah Fraites, who’d come up playing house shows and open mics then suddenly found themselves on Top 40 radio amid the likes of Maroon 5 and Flo Rida.
But if the Denver-based Lumineers have never returned to the upper reaches of the Hot 100, they’ve arguably achieved something better, quietly becoming one of rock’s top live acts while exerting a crucial influence on the next generation of acoustic singer-songwriters. In 2023, Zach Bryan recruited the duo for “Spotless,” a track from his chart-topping self-titled album; last year, Noah Kahan brought Schultz and Fraites onstage during a gig at Boston’s Fenway Park. Then there’s Shaboozey, who’s said the Lumineers helped inspire his smash “A Bar Song (Tipsy).”
“Zach has a tattoo of the ‘Cleopatra’ logo on his arm,” Fraites said recently, referring to the band’s 2016 LP. “And Noah, we were emailing once and he said, ‘There’d be no Noah without the Lumineers.’ It’s kind of hard to wrap my head around.”
Last month, Schultz, 42, and Fraites, 39, released their fifth album, “Automatic,” which they’ll support on the road this year with dates including stadium shows at Fenway and New York’s Citi Field and a two-night stint at Inglewood’s Kia Forum in August. Schultz spoke about it the other day in a conversation at the Sunset Marquis, part of a lengthy promotional trek he said was keeping him away from his wife and two young children longer than he’d been away in a while.
“My son Lenny’s school had a music day where whoever wants to play can go up and play,” he said, dressed in jeans and a weathered Talking Heads T-shirt. “I’m just going to be there with him, and then spontaneously he’s like, ‘I want to play ‘Ophelia,’ Dad — you come play with me.’ He whispered the whole song, and I sang it over him.”
You ever get self-conscious at school as Mr. Rock Star Dad?
I think I’m blissfully unaware of whether that ever comes into the conversation. I have a friend who got a date with a dude from one of the apps. They were meeting at a park, and I went with her just to keep her company for a second in case it was weird. Halfway through the hang, he goes, “So, what, you’re in like a Lumineers cover band?” The songs might be famous, but as individuals we’re not. And I wouldn’t say that’s necessarily by design, but it’s not not by design.
I like to joke that we’re this generation’s Steve Miller Band. I never gave a f— what that guy looked like. I never knew what he was up to. I’d just listen to his greatest hits and be like, “This is a vibe.”
There’s something to be said for a cult of personality.
Feels like shaky ground to build anything off of. Part of it is that I covered a lot of songs when I first started playing guitar, and if you played a good song in a bar, the room lit up. It wasn’t like the artist was there playing it. I used to do “My City of Ruins” by Bruce Springsteen, which isn’t even a hit, and the room would just stop.
What made you sure it wasn’t you?
Because then I’d play some of my own stuff and the place would go [fart sound].
I’ve never considered the Lumineers as elder statesmen —
Same here.
But you’ve become a touchstone act for a bunch of younger singer-songwriters.
Zach told me — he was like, “You’re my Tom Petty, bro” [laughs]. I was kind of stunned, because I still feel like a novice.
How’d you end up on “Spotless”?
Looking back, this is very Zach Bryan — what he’s really like in person — but he was playing a festival that we were also playing, and he came over to watch our set. He wanted to say hello, and he just showed up side-stage and our security was like, “Whoa, whoa — where’s your pass?” He’s like, “Oh, I was playing on the other stage.” They’re like, “No.” I only heard about this later. So I asked my manager to get me his number, and his manager was like, “He’ll call you — I’m not gonna give you his number.” All right, whatever. Sent him a message on Instagram, didn’t hear back for months.
Then one day I get a message, he’s responding on Instagram. He’s like, “Dude, you’re one of my idols.” I told him, “Congratulations on all the success, and hopefully we can hang out one day.” He’s like, “We should write a song.” I’m like, “Yeah, man — if you ever have a good idea, here’s my number.” An hour later, he sends me an idea, and that was “Spotless.” We went back and forth, but it was hilarious because as I was recording in my basement, I was supposed to be barbecuing for a bunch of friends I was hosting. They were all just waiting in my backyard as I recorded my parts. I’m like, “There’s this guy, Zach Bryan, and this song’s gonna come out…” Within a year, they were all like, “I’ve heard of that guy now.”
Does it make you feel old to be described as someone’s idol?
I don’t know — I mean, yeah. That would sting if I wasn’t excited about this record we made. It’s 20 years for me and Jer writing together, and I’d never felt more possessed by it.
Do you know why?
Because it was very uninhibited. It’s like a Polaroid of a candid moment — wasn’t posed in any way. We didn’t make any demos, so what you’re hearing is the first tries and second tries.
What made you write the song “A—”? I won’t be able to print the title in the L.A. Times, so let’s say for the reader that it rhymes with “Glass Bowl.”
It’s autobiographical. My college roommates used to always say, “When I first met you, I thought you were an a—.” My wife: “First time I met you, I thought you were an a—.”
Enough people tell you something…
But I sort of took it as a badge of honor — like, she married me. I overcame that. What I think is cool about the song is the full-circle element of it, which is like: You’re probably correct — I might be an a—. But so are you. You have a dark side, you’re just not showing it.
You think you still strike some people that way?
I’m probably less guarded. But I’m just — how do I say it? — I’m a slow burn. I think if you asked my wife, she’d tell you tons of interactions I have on a weekly basis where she’s like, “What the hell, man?” and I’m like, “What?”
In 2013, “Ho Hey” peaked at No. 3 on Billboard’s Top 40 radio chart.
I think it peaked at 2.
My mistake.
Because I was watching it, and I was like, I wonder if it’ll ever get to 1? And it almost did. But it was at 3 for sure for at least one week [laughs].
The Lumineers’ tour will stop for two nights at Inglewood’s Kia Forum in August.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
The songs ahead of it at that week were Bruno Mars’ “Locked Out of Heaven” and Rihanna’s “Diamonds.” Everyone talked at the time about the unlikeliness of “Ho Hey” becoming a hit. But looking back at what was around it on the chart really drives that home.
My friends would send me Howard Stern clips where he’d be running down the Top 10 and just get mad — like, “What the f— is this?” The narrative goes that when you have a big song, you must have designed the song to be big. Things aren’t a mistake, it’s not an accident, there are no Cinderellas. But listen to that song and tell me that was supposed to be a hit.
The essence of every interview we did at that time was: “You guys are doing really well. Please explain.” Kind of insulting. The scary part after that was you face a fork in the road: You can either do the thing where you try to make other hits that show you weren’t a one-hit wonder, or — like in our case — you just keep going and try to block it out.
They tried to make “Stubborn Love” a hit. They wanted to cut a bunch of the song — they said 4 minutes was too long. We were like, “What do you mean? What are you gonna change?”
Was that disillusioning in some way?
I remember Third Eye Blind had an extra verse [in “Semi-Charmed Life”] that I never heard until I heard the album version. I felt a little bit betrayed by that. What’s that Billy Joel lyric? “If you’re gonna have a hit, you gotta make it fit / So they cut it down to 3:05.” For us it was an easy no, but a lot of artists don’t always realize that they’re in the driver’s seat.
Why did you realize it?
Because I was 30-plus. Also, what are you really after when someone asks you to do something like that? What matters to you more? Is it that you wrote the song and you love it that way, or that you love the idea of people knowing your name in the supermarket? We had meetings with a bunch of managers when we changed management in 2018, and I remember one guy spent half the meeting talking about how his clients fly on private jets. I was like, “I don’t really care about jets, man — I just want to write my own music.”
Jets are nice.
Yeah, but people write music sometimes to have the jets — it’s the tail wagging the dog.
You ever wonder what would’ve happened if you’d agreed to the radio edit?
I’d love to run a simulation just to see. But here’s the trap: Let’s say you have two hits [in] the Top 40 format. Now you’ve created a standard by which your team is evaluating success in this very strange way. You notice what the format likes, you might start to subconsciously write to meet that format. Whereas the artists that last, they just do their own thing. It’s like Neil Young said: “When I was in the middle of the road, I aimed for the ditch.”
Have the Lumineers done that?
Our album “III” was probably the closest we’ve come. We went out of our way to make something that was overtly depressing and cathartic.
Depressing and cathartic?
My wife’s mom was an alcoholic for most of her parental life. We bought her a little house when the band started making some money — did the hip-hop thing. Living out of that house, she could drink a gallon of Tito’s vodka every day. She could order out pizza and order out alcohol so she never had to leave, to the point where she was on a La-Z-Boy with a dish mat because she couldn’t get up to use the bathroom. So the album was all about that and the aftermath of that and trying to imagine what led up to it.
You know how everybody says “Pinkerton” is Weezer’s best record if you’re a real Weezer fan? You’d be shocked how many people say “III” is their favorite record. By the numbers, it’s not the bestselling at all, but it doesn’t matter. Some of the lowest lows make for some of the highest highs. And had “Stubborn Love” got cut, I don’t know if we make “III.”
The song “Automatic,” from the new album, has some interesting images: “Shooting stars / Driving your electric cars / Eating at the salad bars / Praying for the rain.”
The original line was “Shooting stars / Maybe a take a trip to Mars.” I was thinking of Elon [Musk] — it wasn’t about him, but it was about how idealistic but also how dark things feel right now. It’s the best, most cutting-edge time to be alive, yet if you measured people’s happiness, most people would tell you how depressed they are. There’s that Steinbeck quote about people viewing themselves as temporarily embarrassed millionaires — I’m more important than I am at my current station of life — and I feel like that’s come back. There’s a gluttony built into everything where if you’re not careful, you’re never satisfied.
What’s your most gluttonous tendency?
I watch a lot of videos on YouTube. I try to read — I make deals with myself. But it’s probably watching certain clips and getting in a weird algorithm.
What’s the wormhole?
Lately I’ve been watching a lot of Coffeezilla, this guy who investigates fraud. I got into MrBallen, who tells crazy-good stories. Lot of Joe Rogan short clips. Shane Gillis is amazing.
Name a creature comfort you’ve gotten used to even though you know it makes you kind of a brat.
I keep kefir around because I don’t like dealing with hotel breakfast. We have a traveling miniature gym — that makes me really happy to do something in the day. When I burn that energy, the anxiousness goes away for the show that’s about to happen. And then my tour manager, her grandfather used to say, “Life’s too short to drink bad wine.”
What do you drink?
White Burgundy. A nice Chablis. I used to drink red wine, but I can’t really as a singer now.
Red wine messes with your voice?
Ask any ear, nose and throat specialist who deals with singers and they’ll probably tell you the same thing multiple ones have told me. Also, as a singer, if you’re drinking red wine, your teeth get really dark and you look a little wild up there — a little Johnny Depp pre-dental surgery.
