Hailing from Orlando, Florida—the land of mouse ears, boy band dreams, and humid parking lot brawls—4oh7 is a pop-punk punchline turned power chord prophecy. Born in the shadow of ’90s and early 2000s Orlando pop royalty (Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, O-Town—yeah, we said it), the band took one look at choreographed dance moves and matching outfits and decided to torch it all with three chords, a broken amp, and a bag of stale Triscuits.

Luke Riot (vocals) is the band’s snarling ringleader, equal parts frontman, therapist, and mosquito-bitten Florida Man philosopher. He grew up sneaking into half-empty theme park parking lots with a busted boombox and a Sharpie, dreaming of sing-alongs that tasted like Gatorade and smelled like burnt sunscreen.

On guitar and backing vocals, Casey “Crash” Delmar shreds like he’s late for his lifeguard shift at Wet ’n Wild. Crash’s riffs are sticky with garage-band sweat and coated in glitter from countless all-ages shows where no one paid the $5 cover.

Behind the kit, Jax Vandal pounds out drum fills like they’re eviction notices. A child of Florida strip malls, Jax claims their first drum set was cobbled together from discarded Publix bakery buckets—and they’ve been making too much noise ever since.

Completing the chaos is Trevor Keys on keyboards and bass synth, the wildcard who insists that ska never died (and will argue this fact with anyone trapped long enough in the line at Wawa). Trevor is equal parts comic relief and sonic saboteur, layering cheesy Casio tones over otherwise respectable choruses.

Together, 4oh7 is what happens when you grow up under the looming palm trees of Orlando’s boy band empire but decide your destiny is pop-punk, not pop perfection. Their songs are short, loud, weirdly heartfelt, and built for sweaty outdoor shows where someone always ends up bleeding, crying, or both.

If Orlando gave the world choreographed heartbreak, 4oh7 is its feral cousin: loud, irreverent, and way more fun to sing along with.