It’s a warm November day in Miami, and I’m in an Uber when one of those obnoxious radio ads comes over the speakers on the local alt-rock station. “Discover new music,” it insists, “JR JR: ‘Gone.’ 104.3, THE SHARK!!!” The song starts with a keyboard, then a plucked acoustic guitar, then an unmistakable earworm whistle-harmony—the kind you can imagine playing over and over again in trailers for movies about people far better looking than you are. The Uber driver is significantly impressed. “I think it’s gonna be a smash hit,” he says, as the drums kick in.

The two members of JR JR—the shorthaired, conservative-looking Josh Epstein and his wild-tousled, fully animated partner-in-rock Daniel Zott—have heard hype like this before. Though they’ve been known as JR JR only for a short time, the band formerly known as Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. has been on the next-big-thing treadmill for a while. (Their name change came from a desire to get taken a bit more seriously and to stop disappointed stalkers from showing up at their shows; the racecar driver they were previously named after actually was an on-the-record fan.)

The band’s electro-chugging, afterparty-friendly debut, It’s a Corporate World, gained them worthy huzzahs from publications in all corners of the festival scene. Their single “If You Didn’t See Me (Then You Weren’t on the Dancefloor),” from their second record, The Speed of Things, is one of those imminently likeable songs you’ve heard a million times in a grocery store, restaurant or commercial but can’t place. In both albums’ cases, Zott and Epstein were ready for something resembling indie-rock stardom—and then circumstances changed.

“The first time we put out an album, both of our A&R guys got fired immediately after it came out. The second time we put out an album, the lady who was running the company got fired. The people who were enthusiastic about us ended up getting let go—and we got caught in the switching of power,” Epstein says. “By the time the next regime was in place, there was no path to promoting the albums.”

Thankfully, that’s not happening this time, but whether the Uber driver is a prophet and “Gone” is a smash is still TBD. The band’s work ethic, though, certainly makes it seem like it could be. JR JR isn’t a one-single-and-done album; the whole thing’s full of songs that feel like future hits. “In the Middle” bumps with early MGMT-style drum loops and gurgling bass; “James Dean”—a song that began as a soundcheck throwaway before being fully developed—meanders through an AutoTune groove with touches of guitar swells and background percussion that manage to find the undiscovered middle ground between The Weeknd and Wilco.

And it’s even more impressive considering much of the album was written with JR JR’s members spread across the country—the recently divorced Epstein now lives in LA, while Zott’s home is in Detroit with his wife, which means that they sent tapes and demos back and forth, with both of the guys contributing more and more small parts to the densely packed whole. (For what it’s worth, they may end up back in each other’s presence full-time, sooner rather than later: Zott frequently visits LA amid pressure to move, and Epstein’s been looking seriously at buying inexpensive studio space in Detroit.)

Despite their sometimes disparate writing styles, the band is a collaborative and cohesive live force, as Zott and Epstein are both high-energy, multi-instrumentalists, flailing regularly around and in front of the stage—with backup musicians who also take care of everything from loop-triggering to bass-pounding. Their yin-and-yang look is complementary, and their instrumental prowess flows together. One of the biggest challenges of being in JR JR is figuring out how to adapt their steady studio sound to the live arena; often, the band’s goal is to figure out how to swap between instruments mid-song to nail all the parts. Sometimes, this works better than at others: At a recent LA show, Epstein was left clutching his Telecaster to his chest as the strap dangled at his side, lost in the keys-to-guitar swap.
“When we’re putting it together to try to make it work live, we try to figure out what the most essential elements of the songs are—maybe there’s a hook that’s being played and someone absolutely has to play it, or a keyboard part [that stands out],” Epstein says. “We try to do as much of the song as we can and make sure that the moments of the songs that are supposed to pop out do, so the audience can focus on them.”

It’s all part of the band’s bigger team-work strategy. “We trust each other and think each other are really talented,” Zott explains over sushi, regarding the general process between the duo. “If I get something from Josh, and he’s like, ‘Do whatever you want on it,’ it’s like a free-for-all. I love it. If I know it’s a good idea, a good raw idea, it’s easy for me to play on top of it and mess around. And vice-versa: If I have a song fleshed out, the fun part is coming in after that [and hearing how Josh expands on it].”

There’s also a real work ethic that the duo explores: It’s not waiting around for a muse to come down from on high, but more like checking into a songwriting factory. “There are moments of inspiration that hit, and a lot of times that’s where good ideas come from,” Epstein says during a hazy songwriting-sesh break. “But you can’t wait for them. Sometimes the good ideas come from the times where you’re forcing yourself to work. I’ve kind of tried to develop a bunch of different exercises to avoid writer’s block—like, program a bunch of chords into GarageBand and try to make a song from it. It’s like a puzzle.”

It seems sort of clinical in a way, but don’t think that Epstein is anything less than fully immersed. In addition to his work with JR JR, he’s become something of a songwriter-for-hire since he moved to LA, working with members of arena-size rock bands and pop superstars on tracks that veer from absurd funk like Bruno Mars to dark, brooding pop a la Tove Lo.

“Sometimes, with music, if you give yourself very specific parameters, you get more creative,” Epstein says. “If you were to put yourself in a tiny room, you could know every inch of that room. Whereas, if you were to put yourself in a mansion, you may not make it into a room on any given day. But if you’re in a studio apartment, every inch of that space gets used—and that’s like an idea. The smaller the idea, the more fully you can form it.”

And Zott and Epstein, as frequent collaborators and co-frontmen, are sometimes responsible for making each other’s small ideas big. “Someone may have a little idea, but they don’t think it’s much of anything,” Zott says. “The other person ends up with a big idea for it. Sometimes, you record it, and you realize: ‘This song is incredible.’ It’s funny how having two guys who are the lead guys is the key to not hitting a writer’s block—because you have someone else to bounce these ideas off of.”

Back in the Uber, the driver turns up the song, singing along to the chorus. And I’m thinking back to something Epstein said, after bemoaning the fate of the band’s last two records: “This one,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “feels a lot better.”