Today, Hoarders of Hurt stands for crafting songs that hit like a gut punch and linger like an old scar. Their sound has evolved far beyond the rough beginnings at The Howling Pint. What started as a chaotic collision of raw emotion and half-formed ideas has grown into a finely tuned machine, delivering music that’s as complex and layered as the lives they’ve lived.
Their songs still carry the weight of pain and struggle, but there’s a depth now—a sense of perspective that only comes with time. They’ve moved past simply screaming into the void; their music explores what happens after the scream, after the chaos, when the dust settles and you’re left standing in the wreckage, searching for meaning.
Jesse’s voice, once a blunt instrument of unrefined power, has become a masterful tool for storytelling. Whether it’s a tender falsetto on a ballad about unspoken goodbyes or a guttural roar on an anthem of defiance, Jesse’s voice pulls listeners into the heart of the song, making every word feel like it’s meant just for them.
Alex’s drumming anchors the band, a steady heartbeat beneath the chaos. Their rhythms have grown intricate, weaving in syncopation and unexpected flourishes that keep even the heaviest tracks alive with movement. “I don’t just play the drums anymore,” Alex once said in an interview. “I tell my part of the story with every beat.”
Sam’s basslines provide a dark undercurrent, threading through every track with a brooding energy that ties everything together. Sam’s lyrics, too, have matured. They’re no longer just words to fill a melody but poetry that cuts straight to the bone, speaking to the fears and hopes we all carry.
Riley’s guitar work is where the band’s experimental edge shines. His playing is as unpredictable as it is brilliant, blending jagged riffs with soaring, ethereal melodies. Riley has a knack for creating textures that feel like landscapes—barren deserts of isolation or lush forests of hope, depending on the track.
One standout track, “Drifting Away,” is a stark yet beautiful meditation on love—not the idealized version, but the messy, complicated reality of it. Jesse’s voice aches with vulnerability, while Riley’s guitar weaves a melody that feels like a conversation between longing and acceptance.
In contrast, “The Reckoning” is pure fire—a rallying cry against betrayal and the weight of past mistakes. Alex’s thunderous drumming drives the track, with Sam’s bass adding a relentless pulse that feels like a racing heartbeat. Riley’s solo adds the icing on the cake.
For Hoarders of Hurt, the music they make today isn’t just about creating songs—it’s about leaving a piece of themselves in every note, every lyric, every performance. It’s about taking the pain they’ve hoarded and transforming it into something bigger than themselves—something that resonates with anyone who’s ever felt broken but kept going anyway.
“It’s not about where we started,” Jesse said in a recent interview. “It’s about where we’re going. And as long as we’ve got music, we’ll keep going.”
The band may not fully believe the myth of their origin, but they believe in what they’ve built together: a sound, a story, and a connection that’s as raw and real as the city they call home.
