proves

There was a time in the beginning of Sublime’s recent revival when Jakob Nowell, the son of the band’s late singer Bradley Nowell, saw himself simply as a good son trying to help his adoptive uncles — drummer Bud Gaugh and bassist Eric Wilson — restart his dad’s iconic Long Beach trio. The goal wasn’t to take the place of his frontman father who died of an overdose in 1996. “I’ll never look at it as my band. Sublime is my dad’s band, and I’m helping out, that’s all,” he told The Times in 2024. Luckily, he was wrong.

The journey of finding his own voice through his father’s sly, shambolic poetry and reggae rock anthems, along with his determination on the road with Gaugh and Wilson through a barrage of festivals and tour dates helped him eventually step into his own as a songwriter and Gen Z rock star. It’s all been done with the mission to preserving his dad’s legacy and having fun while doing it. Now it feels as natural as the trio sitting together on the waterfront in LBC’s shoreline marina within earshot of the bellowing horn of the Queen Mary earlier this year as they were finishing the recording of “Until the Sun Explodes,” the first album under the Sublime moniker in 30 years.

Just like the band’s original recipe of shoving punk, dub reggae, hip-hop and ska into a blender, the new songs dutifully stick to the formula along with Jakob’s soulful caterwauls that sound scarily similar to his dad. But what emerges from the 21-song tracklist is the evolution of a trademark sound that gives a nod to the past while standing strong on its own, just like Jakob, despite coming to the interview on crutches while healing from a performance-related knee injury. The band members chatted with The Times about recapturing the effortless essence of their immortal beach-ready sound and looking forward to a second chance to chase an endless summer.

This interview was edited for length and clarity

It’s kind of a rare thing for all three of you guys to be in one place at the same time. What was it like working in the studio together to finish the new album?

Bud Gaugh: Magical. Things are just coming together. We showed up, Jake had an idea for another song, and he sent us a little demo and said “Hey, this is what I’ve been thinking about.” And then we get down to the studio [in San Pedro], and he’s like, “Oh yeah, so I had another idea,” and kind of changed it. We jumped in there [and by the end of our sessions, we had written] brand new songs to the list of songs that we already had.

The band’s revival has been a long time in the making. I remember when you guys had your first show together, a surprise gig a couple years ago as part of a benefit show for the Bad Brains frontman H.R. Do you feel you’ve come a long way since then?

Eric Wilson: I never thought the chemistry would be like it was with Bradley.

Jakob Nowell: Especially now that we’ve been playing together this long, the chemistry is very much there. We’re just comfortable and having fun. Jamming together is the best. We get in there to do a take for a song, and I’m always like “Let’s just do like three more!” It’s just that much fun, and that’s how it feels playing live too.

When did the idea for creating a new album come about?

Gaugh: It was pretty much just while we were playing shows, At first, the idea was that we were getting together to do this benefit for H.R. [at Teragram Ballroom in December 2023]. We went from “How’s this going to work?” and then [after the show] it was like, “Wow, this is something special. We should definitely go out and play some more shows, and get this music out there and get the opportunity to bring the music to the people in the purest form that we possibly could.” As we’re doing that, it’s like we’re seeing the reaction in the fans, and we were feeling it emotionally. We realized this is going to be bigger than we ever thought. That’s when we really decided where it was going to go.

Jakob Nowell, right, once thought Sublime was only his late father’s band; now, fronting the Long Beach trio, he’s leading a new chapter that still honors Bradley Nowell’s legacy.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Were any of the songs on the new album mined from previously unreleased material or did you start fresh?

Nowell: There was that song we did with Stick Figure [“Feel Like That”], so I think that kind of inspired us. [We realized] “Oh s—, there really is some meat on the bone.” And then I had found some old recordings of stuff that were just like jams without even like vocals or whatever. Then it became just this thing during sound check or maybe in the middle of sets, we’d just start jamming these random progressions and stuff, and it kind of just evolved from there naturally.

The new songs that I’ve heard fit right in the vein of what people love about Sublime. What was it like putting some of those new songs in the setlist as you were building them?

Nowell: It was like magic. We were joking yesterday that sometimes we’ll play a new song for the first time just randomly and I’d see people try mouthing the lyrics and stuff and I’ll say “you’ve never even heard this before! I know you haven’t. We don’t even really know what the hell we’re saying.”

Gaugh: You frontin’! [Laughs]

Nowell: But [the new material] sounded like it was supposed to be there, so it was kind of a rad little test in a lot of ways. We almost don’t even have to think about it. That’s always going to be the guiding goal of any band trying to make fun music that’s relatable.

Wilson: What if you’re Slayer? That’s not true if you’re Slayer.

Jakob, it seems like you’ve gotten a lot more comfortable in the frontman role since joining the band. What’s it like just taking the lead, not just for the sake of your dad, but for the fans?

Nowell: Oh, dude, it’s the best. I don’t even have to think about it. We really feel like this is — we’re a band, you know?

Gaugh: It’s [Jakob’s] band too. Now it’s our band. It’s us.

Nowell: It feels like that whenever we’re hanging out, just doing stuff, or at the studio or at these shows. So, this upcoming year feels like a really rad adventure. We got all these different eras [of fans] — people who were in their 50s when [Sublime’s] first stuff dropped, who are still alive, and then their kids and their grandkids and great grandkids. Everybody finds a piece of the discography they can relate to. That’s what is most exciting. It’s not just one or two songs, people sing along to everything.

I was at Warped Tour in Long Beach last year when you guys played and —

Nowell: That was my favorite set!

To me that felt like it encapsulated what you were talking about with the multigenerational groups of fans that have enjoyed you guys and associate you with Long Beach.

Gaugh: It was like a homecoming for me. I remembered playing the Chili Cook off, you know, right over there in the same area [as Warped Tour], and it was just bringing me back 30 years. It’s so meaningful to be in our backyard playing our music again, right there. This is where it all started. It’s come full circle.

Nowell: It was like playing at a local bar in a cool way. I had this huge group of people up front, they were just talking and shouting and saying stuff, like f–ing with us and joking around. I was like “Damn this is great!”

How about you, Eric? How’d you feel playing Warped?

Wilson: [Mumbles] It was f–ing awesome.

Now that you’ve played all these festival shows, from Coachella to No Values, you’ve got your own festival going on. Can you talk a little bit about Sublime Fest and your Sublime Reef Madness Cruise and how you came up with it?

Nowell: We could put on a bunch of the bands we love, and some of our boys, like Vandals, and make it our own vibe.

Gaugh: You walk around Coachella and there’s so many different elements there. Wouldn’t it be neat if we could make like all this like a Long Beach element, a Sublime element. Looking at this thing, it’s like “Oh wow. So we can actually get some of our friends and set up like a tattoo booth, and have our idea of art and everything out there, and mix it all together — food, art, music — bringing all these different elements, and friends of ours that play music. We get to decide who’s going to share the stage with us, so it’s really neat. It’s like planning a high school party or something like that.

Nowell: The biggest backyard party ever seen.

You guys always had your own sound going on, what’s it like to see that the fans still want it?

Wilson: It took a lotta years to catch on, but it did.

Nowell: Yeah, the kids really want that, like ‘90s, Y2K kind of vibe. That was the last era of like cool authenticity and stuff. You can see it when young people make stuff to look retro … when things get so high fidelity, we’re almost losing a little element, so I think these festivals kind of seek to bring some of that back in a way that everybody can get into.

With “Until the Sun Explodes,” Sublime’s first album in three decades, Jakob Nowell, Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson rediscover their studio chemistry, jamming new songs that feel instantly familiar onstage.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

You guys also have the timeless iconography of the Sublime sun logo. The title of the album is “Until the Sun Explodes.” Does that title have any particular meaning to you?

Nowell: It’s almost just another way of saying “forever,” like “Oh baby I’m gonna love you till the sun blows up.” That’s gonna happen in billions of years, if at all. The fact that [Sublime’s] lasted this long and has this many fans is evidence to me that we wanna be here forever. I think that’s what everybody wants for themselves.

Jake, you’ve taken steps to advance your own aspirations and music with your label, Sunburnt Records, how does that fit into where Sublime is right now?

I was inspired by the whole Skunk Records thing [Sublime’s first label], Evan Zinger with [his lifestyle brand] SRH, and just all the local brands I grew up with when I was a kid. So just trying to do a cool, chill local thing that has that vibe of putting on small shows and kind of getting to use this new notoriety to be like, man, I have so many friends in these small bands like Strange Case and Eight Ball, and other bands up and down Southern California. Let’s put on shows and sneak them on a Sunburnt Stage at [Sublime Fest] and if people really like that Sublime sound here’s a bunch of kids who are carrying the torch like Slightly Stoopid did when they started out. Mike Watt always said “start your own band!” So the more we can inspire people to do that and be some small part of that, it’s a dream come true.

Do you feel like this version of Sublime is something Brad would be proud of?

Gaugh: We all kind of brought our own element to the music orignally. So we just kind of followed that recipe. Jake’s his own person, he’s got his own influences, and we just kind of stick with that idea. Jake brings in his feelings, and Eric brings in his and we sat there and recorded this song, and then as we were recording it, we’re coming up with ideas. It’s like, “Oh wait, we should do this here, slow that down there, stop here,” it’s all a conglomeration of ideas, everyone does their part, brings in their own spices and we mix it in a pot like gumbo.

LEE Andrews’ lies, mistruths and mystery disappearance have captivated the nation following his flash wedding to Katie Price in January.

Accusations of fraud, gaslighting and emotional abuse have been levelled at him by ex-partners in recent months, all of who fell under his smooth-talking spell and promises of a happy future and financial riches.

Back in March, I became the first newspaper journalist to interview Lee following his emergence as Katie’s new man.

I held out little hope of it taking place when my initial request via WhatsApp was met with weeks of silence.

But then, out of the blue, Lee replied that he was keen to chat and to quash the ‘lies’ that had been spread about him.

I believe he was either that confident in his powers of persuasion that he could brazenly talk himself out of the numerous question marks around his lavish lifestyle and career, or that he viewed me as a useful idiot who could be hoodwinked into washing his tarnished reputation — perhaps a combination of the two.

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We set a date to talk the following week, but when the time came Lee revealed he was struggling with illness and would need to reschedule.

The interview was then postponed twice more with Lee still under the weather and, at this stage, it felt like I was being strung along, destined for the same fate as the Good Morning Britain producers who tried to land him for a TV interview months later.

To my surprise, he eventually made it onto the Zoom call on Friday, March 26, speaking from inside a Dubai branch of Caffé Nero.

Tanned and with salt and pepper stubble, he wore a baseball cap and T-shirt and sounded like someone coping with the last remnants of a cold.

I found him to be amiable, relaxed and open to being grilled on subjects that I thought would make him uneasy.

Off the bat I asked if he was a fantasist and compulsive liar, which he dismissed with a chuckle, telling me the claims were “comical and spin”.

For over an hour we went through everything from his dodgy CV, which he claimed was the result of errors from an unnamed personal assistant, his desire to start a family with Katie and plans for a lavish second wedding, his ability to speak multiple languages (with some muddling examples) as well as serious allegations from his ex-partners, which Lee likened to “barking dogs”.

There was also lots of business talk, full of wordy jargon that I can only assume was designed to impress and baffle someone not au fait with the workings of a cutting edge tech firm.

At the end of it all, we thanked each other and said our goodbyes.

The following day, the story ran in the paper with the humorous tag line: “I don’t really like liars myself. I do everything with honesty (just don’t look too closely at his CV).”

It was perfectly befitting of the ridiculousness of the story at the time, before even more ludicrous claims came to light including Lee’s attempt to buy Chelsea Football Club and boasts about being an international arms dealer.

But I expected Lee might not see it the same way I did and the next day I was proved right when he messaged me to say: “I don’t appreciate the pictures your edit team have used or the way the article has been written.”

I politely explained that we had a duty to examine the various claims against him, that a light touch of light humour was to be expected and that there was no malice in the framing.

His follow up surprised me.

Rather than pushing back, or at least further pleading his innocence on the accusations about his wealth and past relationships, Lee reiterated that his biggest issue was with his looks.

He simply said: “I don’t like the photo at all.”

The photos in question were a selection of unedited grabs from the Zoom call, a fair reflection on Lee through the course of the interview.

What struck me at the time, and even more so now in light of his disappearance and ghosting of wife Katie, is how his visual portrayal seemingly mattered more than any harm caused to others by his actions.

It’s no secret, Lee is fixated on his appearance; his numerous photoshopped pics have gone viral time and again.

The pictures we used took that editing power away from him and the reality appeared to hurt.

In other videos on social media he can be heard referencing his looks, from his hair to his chiselled body, and commenting about filters — or the lack thereof — to ‘prove’ he’s not fake.

He also took great pains to portray himself as a wealthy businessman with links to Kim Kardashian and Elon Musk, years after his sustainable vehicle company was quietly dissolved, which he continues to insist isn’t the case.

Further interactions between us saw him insist others simply couldn’t understand the workings of his complex world.

Optics are king with Lee and it seems he’s willing to let real feelings fall by the wayside as long as he is presented as the handsome, wealthy success story he’s so desperate to be — a mindset that could have heartbreaking consequences for Katie.

The datacom market outlook was recently revised upwards by LightCounting, which J.P. Morgan analysts said proves positive for optical component suppliers, including Coherent (COHR), Fabrinet (FN), and Lumentum (LITE).

“The datacom growth outlook remains robust, with the total market forecast once again

The Zion Phelps story is going to be told over and over at Loyola High to show students what can happen when someone discovers potential and decides to take a chance to bring it out.

In his first year running track after bragging during the football season that he was the fastest student at Loyola, Phelps proved on Thursday he’s also the fastest 100-meter runner in the Mission League by winning in a school-record time of 10.49 seconds at the Mission League finals at Sherman Oaks Notre Dame.

“I’m beyond grateful,” he said after embracing Loyola coach Sharaud Moore.

A junior defensive back, Phelps let Moore bring out his track talent, and now he has options in track and football.

Loyola’s Ejam Johannes offers the “shoosh” sign after anchoring the winning 4×100 relay team. He also won the Mission League 400 and 200 titles.

(Craig Weston)

Another Loyola athlete stepping forward in preparation for next weekend’s Southern Section Division 1 prelims was Ejam Yohannes. He ran anchor leg for the 4×100-meter relay team that beat Notre Dame for the first time in three years with a time of 40.75. At the finish, he put a finger over his lips and gave a “shoosh” sign. He also won the 400 meters in 47.05 and the 200 meters in 20.85, the fourth-best wind legal time in the state this year.

Notre Dame’s JJ Harel qualified in three events — going 6 feet, 10 inches in the high jump, 22-5¼ in the long jump and also qualifying in the triple jump.

The strangest moment of the day came in the Mission League 100 girls’ final. Nalia Keyes of Chaminade and Maya Rios of Bishop Alemany tied for first place, each finishing with a time of 12.46.

“It’s weird,” Rios said of her first ever race tie.

In the Marmonte League final, Demare Dezeurn of Westlake ran the 100 meters in 10.39 seconds to outduel Jaden Griffin of Newbury Park (10.50) and Kingston Celifie of Calabasas (10.56). Dezeurn played football for Palisades in the fall after transferring from Bishop Alemany last season.

Baseball

Sylmar 10, Kennedy 0: Rickee Luevano hit a grand slam for Sylmar.

Westlake 10, Newbury Park 3: Dylan Lee homered and Holden Backus had two hits and three RBIs.

Bishop Amat 3, La Serna 2: Ray Castro threw six innings and also had an RBI single.

Temecula Valley 3, Vista Murrieta 1: Grayson Martin gave up one hit and struck out seven in six innings.

Oaks Christian 17, Calabasas 8: Ryan Sheffer hit two home runs and finished with four RBIs.

Softball

Garden Grove Pacifica 4, Cypress 1: Jenna Valladares had an RBI triple and Shay Kletke threw a complete game.

Sherman Oaks Notre Dame 16, Louisville 0: Jackie Morales had three hits and six RBIs.

Harvard-Westlake 14, Chaminade 11: It was a wild Mission League game that ended on a walk-off grand slam by Kale’a Tindal in the bottom of the ninth inning. Chaminade scored five runs in the seventh to tie the score 9-9. Both teams scored runs in the eighth to make it 10-10. Chaminade took an 11-10 lead in the top of the ninth on an RBI single by Siena Greenlinger. Tindal finished with four hits and four RBIs. Dylan Fischer had a home run, two doubles, a single and four RBIs.

Murrieta Mesa 8, Great Oak 0: Tatum Wolff threw six innings, striking out 10 and walking none. She also hit a home run.

By early 1963, the Station Hotel in London had become an epicenter of the burgeoning British blues scene. On a blustery, snowy night that February, the Rolling Stones’ classic early lineup took the stage for one of the first times, dazzling the audience with ferocious renditions of blues standards like Muddy Waters’ “I Want to Be Loved” and Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City.”

Multi-instrumentalist Brian Jones, the band’s founder and leader, synchronized guitars with Keith Richards, who favored a distinctive slashing and stinging style. Drummer Charlie Watts, the group’s newest member, a jazz aficionado and an accomplished percussionist, propelled the music forward with a rock-solid beat.

Anchoring the rhythm section with him was bassist Bill Wyman, who was recruited more for his spare VOX AC30 amp that the guitarists could plug into than for his musical skills. The stoic bassist proved a strong and innovative player. Together, he and Watts would go on to form one of rock’s most decorated rhythm sections.

Ian Stewart’s energetic boogie-woogie piano style rounded out the sound. Months later, manager Andrew Loog Oldham kicked him out of the band for being “ugly,” although Stewart continued to record, tour and serve as the band’s road manager until his death in 1985.

This April 8, 1964, file photo shows the Rolling Stones during a rehearsal. The members, from left, are Brian Jones, guitar; Bill Wyman, bass; Charlie Watts, drums; Mick Jagger, vocals; and Keith Richards, guitar.

(Associated Press)

Fronting the group was Mick Jagger. Channeling the music like a crazed shaman, Jagger shimmied and sashayed, owning the stage like few lead singers have before or since. By the end of the night, the Stones had the crowd in a frenzy. Although only 30 people had made it to the gig because of the treacherous weather conditions, the hotel’s booker had seen enough: He offered the Stones a regular gig.

“The Rolling Stones had caught fire. The music they were playing and the way they played it struck a chord with a young crowd starved for something different, something their own… It was soul-stirring, loud and uncompromising,” writes Bob Spitz in “The Rolling Stones: The Biography,” his magisterial work that charts the 60-year journey of “the greatest rock and roll band in the world.”

Spitz, the author of strong biographies on the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, as well as Ronald Reagan and Julia Child, captures the drama, trauma and betrayals that have kept the Stones in the public’s consciousness for more than six decades. It’s all here: The Stones’ evolution from a blues cover band to artistic rival of the Beatles; the musical peaks — “Aftermath,” “Let It Bleed” and “Exile on Main Street” as well as misfires like “Dirty Work”; Keith’s descent into a debilitating heroin addiction that nearly destroyed him and the band; the death of the ‘60s at the ill-fated Altamont free concert; Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg, Bianca Jagger, Jerry Hall and other lovers, partners and muses; the breakups, makeups and crackups; and perhaps most important, the unbreakable bond between Jagger and Richards at the center of it all.

Although Spitz unearths little new information, he excels at presenting the Stones in glorious Technicolor. Spitz homes in on the telling details and anecdotes that give the band’s story a deep richness and poignancy.

Take “Satisfaction,” the Stones’ 1965 classic and first U.S. chart topper. The oft-told story is that Richards woke up in the middle of the night, grabbed the guitar that was next to his bed, and recorded the iconic riff and the phrase “I can’t get no … satisfaction” on a cassette recorder in his Clearwater, Fla., hotel room before falling back asleep. But as Spitz notes, the song initially went nowhere in the studio. That is until Stewart purchased a fuzz box for Richards a few days later, which gave the tune a raunchier sound that perfectly matched Jagger’s lyrics of frustration and alienation. A classic was born.

Piercing the Stones mythology

Spitz’s deep reporting often pierces the mythology surrounding the band. Contrary to the popular belief of many fans, for instance, Jones bears much of the responsibility for the rift with his bandmates and his tragic demise.

The most musically adventurous member of the group — he plays sitar on “Paint It Black” and dulcimer on “Lady Jane” — Jones wasn’t a songwriter. That stoked his jealousies and insecurities, along with frontman Jagger stealing the spotlight from him. A monster of a man, Jones impregnated multiple teenage girls and physically and emotionally abused several women, including Pallenberg. Perhaps that’s why she left him for Richards. Over time, Jones made fewer contributions in the studio and onstage, becoming a catatonic drug casualty. The Stones fired Jones in June 1969 but would have been justified doing so a couple years earlier. He drowned in his pool less than a month later.

Author Bob Spitz

(Elena Seibert)

Similarly, Stones lore has long romanticized the making of “Exile on Main Street” in the stifling, dingy basement of Richards’ rented Villa Nellcôte in the South of France, where the Stones had decamped to avoid British taxes. In this telling, Richards, deep in the throes of heroin addiction, somehow managed to come up with one indelible riff after another built around his signature open G tuning — taught to him by Ry Cooder — leading the band to create one of the best albums in rock history. That’s not entirely accurate, according to Spitz.

Yes, Richards came up with the licks for “Rocks Off,” “Happy” and “Tumbling Dice.” But it’s equally true that a strung-out Richards missed myriad recording sessions, invited dealers, hangers-on and other distractions to Nellcôte, and repeatedly failed to turn up to write with Jagger. Far from completing the album in the druggy haze of a French basement, the band spent six months on overdubs at Sunset Sound in Los Angeles, where Jagger contributed many of his vocals.

Beatles vs. Stones

One of the more interesting themes Spitz develops is the symbiotic relationship between the Beatles and Stones, with the Fab Four mostly overshadowing them — until they didn’t.

John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote “I Wanna Be Your Man” and gave it to the Stones, whose 1963 rendition, with Jones on slide guitar, became the group’s first UK Top 20 hit. The Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership inspired Jagger and Richards to begin penning their own songs. In early 1964, the Beatles came to the U.S. for the first time, making television history with their appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and playing Carnegie Hall. A few months later, the Stones kicked off their inaugural American tour at the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino. In 1967, the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” a psychedelic masterpiece. The Stones responded with “Their Satanic Majesties Request,” a psychedelic mess.

The Rolling Stones: The Biography cover

As the Beatles began to splinter, Spitz writes, the Stones sharpened their focus. The band released “Beggars Banquet” in late 1968 and “Let It Bleed” the following year, albums every bit as innovative and visionary as “The White Album” and “Abbey Road.” For the first time, the two groups stood as equals.

When the Beatles broke up in 1970, the Stones kept rolling. With Jones replaced by virtuoso guitarist Mick Taylor — whose fluid, melodic style served as a tasty foil to Richards — they produced what many consider their finest works, “Sticky Fingers” and “Exile on Main Street.” More impressively, the band, with Taylor’s successor, Ronnie Wood, has continued to dazzle audiences with incendiary live shows, touring as recently as 2024 behind the late-career triumph “Hackney Diamonds.” The Beatles, by contrast, retired from the road in 1966 and devoted their energies to the studio.

Hundreds of books have been written about the Rolling Stones, but few sparkle quite like Spitz’s. For anyone who loves or even likes the Stones, it’s indispensable.

Like most of the band’s biographers, Spitz gives short shrift to the post-“Exile” period after 1972. He curtly dismisses 2005’s strong “A Bigger Bang” and 2016’s “Blue & Lonesome,” a back-to-basics album of blues covers, as “adequate endeavors that signaled a band living on borrowed time.” That critique is both off target and under-developed. Spitz ignores the band’s legendary live album, “Brussels Affair,” recorded in 1973, or why the band waited decades before officially releasing it.

These are small quibbles. Spitz has written a book worthy of its 704-page length; another 50 or so pages covering the later years would have made it even stronger. To quote the Rolling Stones: “I know it’s only rock ‘n roll, but I like it, like it, yes, I do.”

Marc Ballon, a former Times, Forbes and Inc. Magazine reporter, teaches an advanced writing class at USC. He lives in Fullerton.