FEELSGOOD: The Art of Existing Underground

But what the fuck is FEELSGOOD? I probably should’ve led with that. Born from the New Jersey DIY scene, Hunter, Troy, and Nico have been hard at work on their bouncy, summery 2010s pop-punk vibe for a while now. Three EPs later, and the band have just landed on the quintessential FEELSGOOD song, ‘Play It Cool’. The track is fast, sugar-rush pop-punk at its core, threaded with electronic textures and hooks that can’t help but stick. It sounds like a band that knows exactly who they are and where they’re going.

And that’s the entire point: as a punk-leaning pop band, FEELSGOOD would rather bottle current moments that feel fleeting, instead of pursuing a scene that’s already passed (though that scene was equally great). Beyond the windows of lyrical nostalgia and 2010s Warped Tour energy, the band works in emotional preservation, not some sort of scenic necromancy dredged up by a lot of other, more popular bands looking to nostalgia-bait their fanbases.

But, in the essence of an underground scene, the band isn’t making this music in a vacuum. They’re doing it from New Jersey – somewhere in-between the established hubs of Glassboro and New Brunswick, building their scene from the ground-up. Beyond adventures in recorded music, the band recently launched PRETTY COOL ENTERTAINMENT, a booking company promising to bring you “the best shows in New Jersey since right now”. The first shows are yet to come, but I can’t wait to see bands get more chances to play shows – anywhere from someone’s backyard to a… hall for War Veterans? It truly doesn’t get more DIY than that.

(As of updating this article, the first PRETTY COOL ENTERTAINMENT shows have been played to incredible success, including their first sold-out show).

That’s not to say PRETTY COOL ENTERTAINMENT is just a fun side-quest. It’s a response to the realisation that nobody is going to fix the scene for you, so you’ve got to do it yourself.

Moments like this remind me that DIY isn’t just some aesthetic that bands can try on; it’s a means for survival. It’s about preserving a scene that exists against all odds, watering the flowers to watch them grow.

There’s something unshakeable in the way he describes it, like it’s another rung on the ladder. He speaks with conviction: the kind that screams “this is our shit”, making it clear that he’s willing to drag this band anywhere it needs to go.

For three boys in their early-twenties with so much still to see, the grind comes to sharpen the belief. Nico remembers a kid who braved an eight-hour bus from Canada just to see them in New York. “It makes you stop for a second and think, ‘Whoa – I’m making an impact on someone.’” And that’s the crux of being an underground band today: it’s one of the only places that makes you feel invisible and enormous in the same weekend.

When you’re an underground band emerging from a local scene, playing shows ought to be the entire point. FEELSGOOD aren’t quick to talk about streaming metrics, which seems to be a priority for every band nowadays. They talk about rooms. Rooms that often feel too small, too empty. Rooms that, occasionally, feel perfect. When discussing the writing process, Hunter affirms that he always thinks “good song” before “good live moment”, trusting that the rest will follow. “A good song will go off live,” he says with a quiet confidence behind his logic. This confidence believes in the band: the writing, the playing, the whole thing.

The rush physically hits. Sweaty rooms, brushing shoulders, screaming lyrics about Wawa and hating your job like they’re scripture. One yet-to-be-released song craves the stage. The track balances restless angst and pop perfection, with the guitar leaning almost hardcore, reflecting the heavier records that inspire Troy’s playing. Nico half-jokes that he wishes he could step off-stage just to stand in the pit and watch it all unfold. “You should want to watch your own band,” Hunter adds. Not as ego, but as standard. A sign you’re doing something right.

Off-stage, the band’s tastes follow different directions – dreamy indie-pop, the technicality of swancore, and hardcore abrasion. However, under the veil of “stupid boys making noise”, FEELSGOOD unlock their real evolution on-stage. Flipping double-time beats into half-time, playing with grit and bite, FEELSGOOD live feels markedly more certain and out-there than any other iteration.

And if live shows are where the band feels enormous, the internet is where they’re at their most microscopic – and deeply unserious. Spend enough time scrolling through their Twitter or lurking in their Discord, and you’ll realise the mythology doesn’t stretch very far.

FEELSGOOD refused to comment.

Beneath the nonsense, something is revealed: FEELSGOOD build infrastructure over the online noise. Fans who met through the band now travel to shows together, group-chats splinter off into real-life friendships. Chaos is the digital ecosystem that keeps the music alive. But what does it mean when that same ecosystem becomes a glorified discovery channel for bands?

It’s ironic that this very same meme machine is the force that decides who gets to be visible. The same way PRETTY COOL ENTERTAINMENT builds shows in New Jersey, algorithms build exposure everywhere else. One minute you’re playing a barber shop in Virginia. The next, a thirty-second clip of your band covering ‘She’s Kinda Hot’ by 5SOS is projecting big to strangers across the world. Invisible and enormous yet again.

For a lot of bands, TikTok breeds resentment. Since the platform’s acquisition in the US and the confusing, obfuscated way the algorithm shifted, “blowing up” feels less predictable than ever, at the whims of companies that have no one’s best interests at heart. But FEELSGOOD’s perspective sits somewhere closer to acceptance. Hunter doesn’t talk about TikTok like it’s a necessary evil; he speaks about marketing as a net-positive: “It’s really frustrating right now, but it’s all about just figuring it out and taking advantage of the tools you have at your disposal.” Through social media, music discovery feels less gatekept than before. The industry doesn’t scout basements like it used to; instead, it scrolls. “It’s the same, but a different font, basically”.

When I asked the band what people misunderstand most about being an underground band in 2026, this was the most notable shift. Behind the rewarding songwriting and recording sits the marketing, something people don’t often realise. Making pop music, FEELSGOOD negotiate their position as a local band online: “We’re still competing with the biggest artists in the world”, Hunter explains – and they’re doing it all without a team to back them. Underground doesn’t mean outside the system anymore. It means working out how to exist inside it without protection.

Underground doesn’t mean small. It means exposed. The scene is an arena where every win feels earned. Every room feels personal. And somewhere between the memes and the algorithm, FEELSGOOD are figuring out how to exist in both worlds without letting either swallow them whole. The next rendition of FEELSGOOD seems unafraid of the massive world that they exist in. The revolving door has finally closed: the lineup isn’t tentative anymore, it’s certain. The songs have finally caught the feeling that they’ve spent years chasing.

To close off the interview, I asked when FEELSGOOD started feeling ‘real’ to each member. Nico recalls his first ever show with the band, that moment of “Holy crap! Like, we could do something with this”, the feeling of expecting nothing and walking away with everything. So when he says this is his favourite era of the band, it doesn’t sound like nostalgia talking. It’s the kind of alignment that only arrives after enough false starts, enough almosts. After the “I’ll think about it”.

The upcoming era and its ensuing project – still mostly under wraps – makes for the perfect continuation. It’s not a reinvention by any means, there’s no swinging around aimlessly in the dark. It’s a sharpening, building on the momentum of a band that now fully trusts itself.

“This is what FEELSGOOD is meant to be,” Hunter says, recounting the story of Nico’s re-audition. “We need this in the band right now”, Troy echoes. It’s an affirmation that lingers. It’s one of those subjective statements that reads as absolute truth.

Because that’s the real forward motion. Not virality. Not “blowing up” (though that’s always a fun bonus). Not chasing the ghost of Warped Tour summers. Just three musicians who want to watch their own band from the pit, who book their own shows when nobody else will, who learn the algorithm without letting it define them, who bottle the present before it disappears.

For the first time in a long time, FEELSGOOD don’t sound like a local band trying to become something. They sound like a band building their own version of what “something” even means.

Before they signed off, FEELSGOOD left us with a few final thoughts, none of them concise, but all worthy of including here. “Papoy. Bello”. “Shout-out Oasis”. Gimic. Pollyanna. Keep Your Distance. Her Side of the Bed. Shark Earrings. Buffout. Bristol Tooth. Valendina. Wall Carpets. “Shout out all the homies in the local scene”. Troy mentions a new form of physical media they’re “attempting to put out” this year. Hunter declares that the new music is not only the best they’ve ever made, but possibly the best anyone’s ever made.

Beneath the noise, the sentiment lands: “Obviously, shout out to everyone who supports us. You guys are the reason we even believe we can make this a thing.” The chaos subsides. The gratitude sticks. “Shout out FEELSGOOD. Best band in the world”.

‘Play It Cool’ is out now. Thank you to FEELSGOOD for being our Spring / Summer ’26 Issue Eight Print Magazine Cover Stars. Read web versions of our full print magazines here.

All photo credits to Al Harmon // FEELSGOOD.