The Lumineers: The Heartland Heroes Who Strummed Their Way to Stardom

The Lumineers: The Heartland Heroes Who Strummed Their Way to Stardom

Imagine two Jersey boys, bruised by life, hunched over a beat-up guitar and drum kit, scribbling songs to make sense of the mess. For The Lumineers, music wasn’t just a lark—it was a lifeline, a way to stitch up wounds and chase a dream bigger than their small-town roots. From Ramsey’s quiet streets to Denver’s dusty open mics, Wesley Schultz and Jeremiah Fraites built a sound that’s raw, rousing, and real, a folk-pop beacon for the weary. Here’s the tale of how a duo turned tragedy into triumph, with a wild pitstop involving a name mix-up and a tumble down memory lane.

The Beat That Began It All

The Lumineers’ story starts with a punch to the gut. Wesley Schultz, born December 30, 1982, and Jeremiah Fraites, born January 17, 1986, grew up a mile apart in Ramsey, New Jersey. Music was their glue—Wes strumming, Jer banging drums—forged in the shadow of loss. Jer’s brother Josh, Wes’s best friend, overdosed on heroin in 2002 at 19, leaving a hole they filled with chords and cries. “We wrote to survive,” Wes once said. By 2005, they were gigging as Wesley Jeremiah, but New York’s grind—three jobs, no time—stifled them. In 2009, they bolted to Denver, lured by cheap rent and a hunch. Music became their rebellion, their way to howl at the past and build a future.

File Photo: The Lumineers perform at the ACL festival in Austin, Oct.6, 2023. (Copyright 2024 Larry Philpot,/ Soundstage Photography.com)
The Lumineers in Indianapolis in 2013, with Nehla.

The Road That Made Them

Wes and Jer were Jersey kids—Wes’s dad a psychologist, Jer’s a mechanic—tied by shared grief. In Denver, they hit open mics, sleeping on floors, scraping by. A Craigslist ad in 2010 brought Neyla Pekarek, a cellist with a music ed degree, into the fold—her bow adding depth to their stomp. Their 2012 debut, The Lumineers, exploded with “Ho Hey,” a shout-along born from Wes’s Brooklyn struggles. Neyla left in 2018 to go solo, shedding the band like a snake sheds skin, her cello silenced in their sound. Today, The Lumineers are a duo—Wes and Jer—backed by touring players, their core unshaken.

Wes married Brandy in 2014, had a son, Lenny; Jer wed Alina in 2018. Through it all, Denver’s their home, the Meadowlark bar their launchpad.

The Career That Caught Fire

The Lumineers’ rise was a slow burn turned blaze. The Lumineers (2012) hit with “Ho Hey” and “Stubborn Love,” earning Grammy nods. Cleopatra (2016) topped charts—“Ophelia” a runaway hit—while III (2019), a dark family saga, peaked at No. 2. Brightside (2022) kept the flame, and Automatic (2025) looms, “Same Old Song” teasing their rootsy pulse. No core bandmates beyond Wes and Jer now—Neyla’s gone, Maxwell Hughes and Ben Wahamaki brief early tour hands—but Stelth Ulvang (keys) and Byron Isaacs (bass) flesh out live shows.

TV spots (SNL, Colbert), film nods (The Hunger Games), and collabs (Tom Morello, Brandi Carlile) dot their map. Awards? Grammy noms, Billboard Music wins, no Hall of Fame yet. In 2025, they’re stadium-bound, a duo driving the machine.

  • Bands: The Lumineers, Wesley Jeremiah (pre-2009)
  • Core Bandmates (Classic Era): Wesley Schultz (vocals/guitar), Jeremiah Fraites (drums/percussion), Neyla Pekarek (cello/vocals, 2010-2018)
  • Awards: Billboard Music Awards, Grammy nominations (Best New Artist, 2013)

Biggest Songs:

  • “Ho Hey” – Written by Wesley Schultz and Jeremiah Fraites
  • “Ophelia” – Written by Wesley Schultz and Jeremiah Fraites
  • “Stubborn Love” – Written by Wesley Schultz and Jeremiah Fraites
  • “Cleopatra” – Written by Wesley Schultz and Jeremiah Fraites

The Dust They Kicked Up

The Lumineers’ road’s had bumps. Neyla’s 2018 exit—after 600 tour days—stung fans; her “recovering Lumineer” Instagram bio hinted at strain, though she cited creative itch. A 2015 lawsuit from ex-member Jason Van Dyke, claiming songwriting credits, settled quietly in ’17. Manager David Meinert’s 2018 sexual misconduct allegations cut ties, but the band rolled on. Wes’s frank lyrics—addiction, loss—draw praise and flak, some calling III too bleak. They shrug it off, stomping forward.

Now, a true tale: In 2009, pre-fame, Wes and Jer played a Jersey City dive as Wesley Jeremiah. The emcee, half-listening, announced “The Lumineers”—a different band booked next week. The crowd cheered, oblivious, and the name stuck. But here’s the twist: years later, in 2013, Wes told People how they’d crashed a Lumineers dental veneer convention—same name, wrong crew. Picture it: two scruffy rockers, post-gig, stumbling into a hotel ballroom of suited dentists, all grins and champagne. “We thought it was a fan meet-up,” Wes laughed. They signed napkins, posed for pics, and bolted when a rep asked about tooth whitening. “Best smile I’ve got,” Wes quipped, flashing his high school “Best Smile” cred. It’s The Lumineers—accidental, absurd, and always rolling with it.

The Light Still Shining

From Jersey’s ashes to Denver’s glow, The Lumineers—now Wes and Jer alone—turned a brother’s ghost into a global roar. They’re not just a band—they’re a heartbeat, a folk-rock pulse for the restless. In 2025, with Automatic dropping, they’re still here, proving why they began: to mend, to move, and to make us all shout “Hey!” one more time.