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Los Angeles indie-punk outfit Jacob the Horse return with their latest power-pop blast, “Keystone State,” a track that wrestles with one of adulthood’s most uncomfortable questions: What if chasing your dreams wasn’t the right call? Specifically, frontman Aviv Rubinstien turns the lens inward, imagining an alternate reality where he never left Pennsylvania for Boston and eventually Los Angeles. The result is a hook-heavy anthem layered with big, crunchy guitars and lines like, “Could’ve had a couple kids / Could’ve fell in love again / Been a big fish in a little lake,” capturing that bittersweet tug between ambition and stability.
About the song, the band had a little discussion about it below:
Aviv Rubinstien: There are so many songs about “following your dreams” and “just believing that everything will work out” because songs like that are self selecting– you’re hearing them from people who followed their dreams, believed, and it worked out for them. This song is the opposite of that. It’s from the perspective of a person who has been singing in basements for handfuls of people since the age of 17, who’s now staring down 40, and wondering what could have been if I just went into accounting or some sort of middle management. Would my life have been better? The conclusion we come to is, probably not.
The idea behind the video is that there is so much going horribly wrong with the world right now, but we have this completely detached look at how amazing life can be when you don’t have anything real to worry about.
Rick Chapman: Or choose not to have anything to worry about.
Aviv Rubinstien: Exactly. It’s a bright sunny day, we swim in the pool, we ride trains, the guys made me ride a rollercoaster.
Mark Desrosiers: You loved it.
Aviv Rubinstien: And the whole thing takes place in an alternate reality where the biggest thing you have to worry about is being afraid of rollercoasters. But none of it is real, just like the idea that you’d be happier if you stayed in your home town is a false one.
Rick Chapman: I left Pennsylvania 16 years ago, after I graduated from college, and never saw myself wanting to move back. Now that I have kids of my own I see the appeal of raising a family there. I’d probably be working in beer sales like my dad but my house would be a lot bigger than the one I’m in now.
Aviv Rubinstien: Rick and I grew up in a town full of middle managers. So it’s possible I could’ve given up on any creative dreams entirely, had a normal job, and lived my whole life like the little match girl looking in through a window at the stuff I wish I could be doing, but there are also really great folks in our home town making music and films on their own terms. That’s really attractive.
Rick Chapman: Maybe if we’d never left my wife and I would’ve had a chance to be on the PTA board. The PTA here is a true cult. If you weren’t born here, you’ll never be in charge. It’s a full time job for these people and the hierarchy is something out of Game of Thrones.
Josh Fleury: There are things I imagine I would’ve or could’ve done if I stayed back East, but I also feel so fortunate to have made the leap which led to having an incredible wife, amazing friends, supportive family within driving distance, and endless creative opportunities to explore.
Aviv Rubinstien: There’s a bit of toxic capitalism that tells us we have to move to the biggest city in the country and we’re only successful if we make a billion dollars or sell a billion records. If you can support yourself and you have enough time and energy to do something that you love, how is that not success?
Mark Desrosiers: Getting older and playing in a band forces you to reconcile with WHY you’re in a band. We’re all married; we’re not in it to meet girls. We all have relatively steady, “real” jobs; we aren’t playing to make money. We aren’t playing to hundreds of people every night; we aren’t playing to become famous. At this point, we’re in a band out of some combination of spite and habit.
Aviv Rubinstien: Being in a band is the best thing I’ve ever done, but it’s also really hard sometimes. Sometimes you drive eight hours to play 30 minutes to the sounds guy and everyone fucking hates you. But it’s also solidarity. I have friends all around the country that I’ve only spent a few hours with in person because they were the folks in the room that I got to connect with, or I was in the room when they came through my town. You make a strong connection with other people in those moments when you share music together.
Josh Fleury: The first chorus of “Keystone,” we sing “Sometimes being in a band sucks. We’re just going deaf in basements, and we’re screaming in your faces”. It immediately takes me back to every basement show I’ve ever played. There was probably a girl in the crowd I was crushing on who I’d wish were standing front row, but instead they were at the opposite side of the room or went outside giggling with their friends.
Aviv Rubinstien: And then the second chorus goes: It’s like therapy in public, and you’ll never get the love you want. True story. You’re basically opening up your diary and reading to people begging them to love you. And that’s not a sustainable way to live.
Mark Desrosiers: If we’re talking about lyrics: I should have stayed / And learned to like the taste of IPAs is objectively funny but also a pretty astute jab at conformity by Aviv; beer snobbery as a hobby is pretty townie-coded and IPAs have been in vogue long enough that ordering one is as reflexive as our parents swilling Miller High Life or Bud.
Rick Chapman: I want to go to the grocery store and buy beer that isn’t a cheap domestic or 20 different IPAs. I think they’re pushing them because they know they won’t sell otherwise.
Mark Desrosiers: IPAs are what breweries make when they don’t know how to make beer that tastes good. It is the “landlord painting your entire apartment with two inches of white paint between tenants to cover up the neglect” of beer. That said I love IPAs because I’m also a basic bitch white boy.
Josh Fleury: I loved IPAs, but the minute I turned 35 my body told me “Hey, that’s enough. Do it again and I’ll hurt you.” and it has, so I’ve had to cut ties.
Aviv Rubinstien: Too sour! But the IPA is a symbol, man. It’s not whether I like them or not, it’s that I have to learn to love them to fit in.
The single serves as a preview of their upcoming album At Least It’s Almost Over (out March 20), a record that channels frustration, anxiety, and a simmering rage at the state of the world. The band tackles everything from the rise of modern fascism to mental health struggles, blending personal confessionals with defiant, rallying-cry energy.
Sonically, the album hits that nostalgic sweet spot. It pulls from classic punk urgency, flirts with grunge’s raw edges, and pairs it all with tight, modern folk-punk lyricism that feels sharply tuned to the present moment. There’s anger here. There’s exhaustion. There’s even a hint of nihilism. But there’s also an undeniable sense of catharsis, the kind that makes you want to shout along in a packed club.
It’s the type of record that feels destined to soundtrack someone’s formative years — the kind of discovery that changes how you see the world. Much like The Clash in the ’70s, Dead Kennedys in the ’80s, Propagandhi in the ’90s, Against Me! in the ’00s, or Amyl and the Sniffers today, Jacob the Horse aim to capture that lightning-in-a-bottle mix of rebellion and revelation. It’s music that says it’s okay to be angry, okay to feel overwhelmed — and maybe even necessary to channel those feelings into something louder than yourself.
