via New Found Glory / Garage Beer
Hey dorks, let’s stop pretending we want music to be smart. The exact second rock ‘n’ roll started trying to get a master’s degree is the exact second the flavor left the building. Leave the spreadsheets and the AI prompts to the suits. New Found Glory has spent over twenty-five years being righteously dumb in the best possible pop-punk ways, and their new track with Garage Beer, “Good to Go,” is a testament that three chords and a cold can of lager with the boys are still the only things worth believing in.
Watch it below via YouTube.
Beer and music, man. That’s the good life.
Especially if you’re drowning in the kind of angsty, mid-life existential crisis I’ve found myself rotting in lately. It’s comforting to hear a band refuses to reinvent the wheel in the name of a new creative era, choosing instead to drop a heat-seeking missile of Aughts nostalgia straight into the middle of 2026 to help soothe the grays creeping into my beard.
“Good To Go” is like throwing on that beat-up pair of Vans that gave you plantar fasciitis but loving every single agonizing step. It’s cheap, loud, and incredibly easy to guzzle without getting acid reflux. It’s the sound of asphalt-scorched Warped Tour parking lots and the stupid optimism of youth, cracked wide open and blasted with the garage door up.
The new video features frontman Jordan Pundik in a sunny backyard, unapologetically slamming crisp Garage American Light Lagers, proving that rock still needs to be played loud enough to piss off the neighbors. Eventually, we all become NIMBY contradictions of ourselves, but until then… let’s leave the lawn uncut, crank the volume, and let the local HOA cry about it. Boo-hoo. Chalk it up to a perpetual Peter Pan syndrome, but I will go to my grave enjoying that kind of refusal to grow up.
Did I just see a go-kart, too? Noice.
Over on YouTube, the comment section is a confessional of elder millennials waking up from a twenty-year nap, readying ourselves for the colonoscopy stage of our lives (all those pizza rolls we dined on after the bars at 3 a.m. were bound to catch up with us eventually).
User @flimflam0681 wrote, “Im 39. Thank you for 25+ years of bangers that have gotten me through life,” while @EWTB is benchmarking his entire existence: “Turning 36 and finding out I’m gonna be a dad all in the same week. Where the hell did 20 years go?!” (Crack a cold light beer for the kid, brother—the next generation of degenerates needs a soundtrack).
Sure, @ljtinney called it like he saw it: “I enjoyed that Garage Beer commercial. lol.” Hey… who the hell cares? Take it up in the comments if your artistic sniff test is so sacred to you.
Selling out is cool these days because it signifies you got the bag—the beer money bag, specifically… and that just means you don’t have to lose a wink of sleep over an email you should have sent two weeks ago (a specific kind of middle-age torture I’ll never be able to cope with). You’ve gotta make a living to pay the bills when gas is six bucks a gallon, you have a dangerous Zyn habit to feed, and the world is burning around you. If you’re gonna sell your soul, you might as well do it to a riff this clean. Played this loud, commercialism is just a Wham-O toy to bash around in the backyard until it breaks into smithereens.
Summer 2026 is going to absolutely rip. We’ve got the actual, honest-to-god return of Vans Warped Tour in Long Beach, Johnny Knoxville and the boys reuniting for Jackass: Best and Last to destroy their bodies one last time (WITH BAM, TOO! YIPEEEEE), My Chemical Romance hitting stadiums to resurrect The Black Parade, and a new Scary Movie sequel bringing back the Wayans brothers to save whatever is left of cinema that can be saved.
Pop-punk is thirstier than ever. Grab a cold beer from the garage fridge that refuses to die, text the high school crew you haven’t seen since the Bush administration (drop an Entourage reference for the chuckle), and let the noise save your tortured pukka necklace soul.
Summer is officially good to go.