Jakob Nowell Says New Sublime Album Connected Him with Late Father Bradley (Exclusive)

In April 2024, Jakob Nowell took the stage in front of 100,000 festival-goers at Coachella to make his official debut fronting the band he once swore he’d never join. For years, the son of late Sublime frontman Bradley Nowell kept his distance, wary of being defined by the father he lost before his first birthday. But the set — packed with faithful renditions of the group’s gloriously foul-mouthed reggae-tinged punk rock mainstays — was a triumph with critics and O.G. fans from their ‘90s heyday. The tentative reunion quickly snowballed into a full tour and, now, Sublime’s first new music in nearly 30 years.

This was not part of the plan — so much as there was one. “This last year has been a blur,” Jakob tells PEOPLE. “So much has happened and changed. Lots of ups and downs, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

When he first agreed to join surviving Sublime members Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson at a one-off charity benefit in December 2023, a few months prior to his formal coronation at Coachella, it felt like nothing more than a tribute. But the chemistry with his musical “uncles” — and the crowd’s ecstatic response — gave the comeback momentum.

For Jakob, excitement soon outweighed a lingering case of imposter syndrome. “I still feel that in some moments,” he admits today. “But one thing that’s changed is that me and the dudes from Sublime are a lot more confident and comfortable playing altogether. It’s gotten to be much more regular, much more routine, and much more fun. Now every time we play, it becomes much easier to lose yourself and sort of disintegrate into the experience.”

By most logic, Sublime shouldn’t have had a second act. The band’s story ended abruptly in 1996 when Bradley succumbed to addiction while on tour. It was two months before the release of their breakthrough self-titled album, sending tracks like “Santeria,” “Wrong Way” and “What I Got” into the Top 40. For decades, those songs remained frozen in time — cult classics that defined a generation of California cool. 

Though the band officially dissolved in the wake of Bradley’s death, Gaugh and Wilson regrouped with singer-guitarist Rome Ramirez in 2009. Billed as Sublime with Rome, the project straddled the line between tribute act and reinvention. But the original duo made it clear that the only way Sublime could ever return under its own name was if Jakob took the mic. For years, he declined, focusing instead on his own projects — first with the band Law, and later with his current “beach-y internet music” venture, Jakobs Castle.

The turning point came in the fall of 2023, when Jakob made a visit to the Phoenix Theater in Petaluma, California — the site of Bradley’s final concert. Crowded out of his father’s gravesite by fans and tourists, he had come to see the empty stage as a more private place to mourn.

When he arrived, Jakob discovered he had walked into an addiction recovery meeting. The attendees were fighting the war that Bradley had lost just a short distance away. It was a war Jakob himself had also fought — and won. Sober after overcoming substance abuse struggles that began in his teens, he introduced himself to the group (which featured more than a few Sublime fans) and shared his story as both a cautionary tale and message of hope.

Standing in that room, at the same age his father had been when he died — 28 — Jakob felt the weight of the family legacy shift. A lifelong reader who once considered teaching English Lit, he couldn’t help but note the symbolism of the venue’s name: the Phoenix, a sign of rebirth. The signs were impossible for him to ignore. The next day he called his manager: The Sublime reunion was officially on. 

After months of live gigs, the move to record a new Sublime album felt less like a decision than a natural next step. Part of the inspiration came from Jakob’s deep dive into the band’s tape vault, a process of “musical archaeology” that also brought him closer to his father. “Finishing these songs was never something we thought we’d do, but we just had so much fun jamming together,” he tells PEOPLE. “There was so much unreleased Sublime stuff that we wanted to shape and share in a new form.”

To keep the new music true to Sublime’s canon, Jakob and producer Jon Joseph took a meticulous approach, combing through the band’s discography with near-forensic detail. “We had this funny little notebook we called the Skin Bible,” Jakob recalls. “Everything Sublime ever did was dissected and recorded in there — every chord progression, song topic, and arrangement. Every ingredient!” They even sketched out a Venn diagram to guide the lyrics, making sure the songs captured the band’s signature mix of sincerity and irreverence.

But to prevent things from feeling too clinical, the team lived by a simple motto: Learn it and burn it.

“You’ve gotta learn the cookbook and then you gotta burn it,” Jakob explains. “A lot of people might think this is a contrived way to make a record. For us it was more about honoring the music and putting in our work. There’s no worse feeling than hearing a new record from a band that hasn’t released anything in a hundred years, and it’s just so different. So we did our homework, and then threw it all out the window. At the end of the day, you have to trust your gut and have fun.”

Once the R&D phase was complete, Jakob teamed up with Wilson and Gaugh at Harbor Martyr Studio in San Pedro, California, where Jakob previously recorded tracks for Jakobs Castle. Authenticity was built into every choice: Gaugh played the same drum kit heard on Sublime’s original records, while Jakob made sure his father’s trademark brown custom guitar was featured on each track. “We even had my dad’s Mesa Boogie Triple Rectifier Amp. As soon as you flip it on and add Bud’s drums, it’s like, ‘Oh, we just turned on the Sublime switch.’ I think the result really sounds like Sublime — if I could be so bold. I’ll let the fans decide for themselves.”

The first taste came in July with the release of “Ensenada,” Sublime’s first original song in nearly three decades. A sun-drenched blend of laid-back reggae grooves, punk grit and a bittersweet pop melody, the track plays like both a road trip anthem and a personal reckoning, with lyrics about crossing borders and starting over. Fans embraced it as a seamless continuation of the Sublime sound, while critics noted how its mix of nostalgia and fresh energy mirrored Jakob’s own journey into his father’s musical role.

Jakob describes the album, which is due out later this year, as an epilogue for a band who never got to say a proper goodbye. “The last Sublime record was a self-titled record. There’ll never be a real Sublime record after that. This is us coming back together and just celebrating 30 years of crazy wild times in Southern California.”

Eventually, Jakob plans to return his focus to Jakobs Castle and his new label, SVN/BVRN, which he hopes will give a platform to “West Coast alternative music.” But Sublime, he says, will remain a central pillar of his creative life. “I feel like it’s my duty in a lot of ways. People really care about Sublime’s music. I’m up there by the good graces of being Bradley’s son. So I try to put in as much hard work as I can to honor the songs — while still delivering an authentic, fun, chaotic performance.”

That chaos was on full display Aug. 20, when the band played an intimate acoustic set at downtown Manhattan’s Silver Lining Lounge for a few hundred lucky fans. Guitar strings snapped, F-bombs flew, and a Rottweiler named Melvin patrolled the stage. Their upcoming TODAY performance on Sept. 15 will likely be more sedate — if only slightly.

If the live shows are marked by gleeful mayhem, the recording process was a more intimate experience for Jakob — offering a chance to connect, and even collaborate, with the father he never got to know. “It felt very healing,” he says. “When we made the very last track, I cried. I just felt such a sense of relief. I think we all teared up a little. I’m so grateful to my friends for putting in their time and being involved in this. And I’m grateful to my family: Bud, Eric, and everyone else.”

That catharsis, he adds, quickly transformed into fuel. “After making this record, I already wanna make more songs. I mean, I don’t wanna get ahead of myself, but this album has excited me more than anything in my musical career so far. I’m just so excited to continue making music similar to it. We’re gonna keep on doing it, man. This stuff’s not stopping. We’re gonna do this till the sun explodes!”

The expression is more than just a promise of endurance, but the name of the new album. Till the Sun Explodes nods to the band’s iconic celestial logo that has long shone on posters and T-shirts. But to Jakob, it also marks a new dawn: a way to honor the past while blazing ahead on his own terms.