If you look closely at the words printed along the spines of physical copies of Waterparks’ sixth album, you’ll notice a declaration that JINX is a “masterpiece.” The trio — consisting of frontman Awsten Knight, guitarist Geoff Wigington, and drummer Otto Wood — exists in a constant state of evolution, holding their art to a standard where each album must dethrone its predecessor before being introduced to the world. “I see no point in making more music if it’s not better than what came before it,” Knight tells Melodic Magazine ahead of the release of JINX.
“When you work in the arts, it’s good to hold yourself to standards. You should be a little bit snobby,” he adds. “That’s kind of what made this [album] take so long. I was like, ‘How do I beat me?’”
JINX arrives after the longest gap between releases in Waterparks history. Following the departure from their former management and record label Fueled By Ramen, the band originally planned on their sixth album being a sequel to 2023’s INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY. The nearly finished project was scrapped in August 2024 after a series of misfortunes and bad energy that surrounded every step of the process. Rather than continue to let his mental health suffer, Knight shifted his focus to approach the next chapter of Waterparks with “light, love, and luck,” as he calls it.
Knight traded the familiarity of his daily routine in Los Angeles for back-and-forth flights to Long Island, New York to work on the album alongside producer-songwriter Nick Zinnanti (Ella Langley, Mitchell Tenpenny) and singer-songwriter and long-time friend, Joe Ragosta. “It would be easier to list ways that [the last three years] didn’t shape me because it was really everything,” Knight says. “It’s hard enough making the best stuff you’ve ever made, that’s already such a challenge. To be doing it out of your element and in such unfamiliar spaces, it feels like playing on hard mode.”
While working on previous albums, Knight explains that he was able to drive 10 minutes away to meet with producer Zakk Cervini (Bring Me The Horizon, mgk, YUNGBLUD) at a recording studio, come home, and do it all again the next morning (after a visit to one of his favorite local coffee spots, of course). “[JINX] challenged me because I didn’t have the normal comforts to fall back on,” he says. “It’s almost like I had to be more immersed in it. It felt more relentless.”
“If I had a fucking horrible day at a studio here in Los Angeles, I could just go home,” he says. “[In New York], I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere in Calverton on Long Island. The exotic cuisine is Applebee’s and that was one of two things that would be open when we were done recording for the night.”
Despite hitting endless dead-ends, Knight’s inherent competition with himself proved to be the most crucial component to driving this album forward. If a song didn’t feel like it was ready to exist beyond the four walls of that studio, each part was reworked a million times until it clicked. “[Ragosta] holds me to a really high standard and that’s a good thing, but sometimes it can be frustrating,” he says. “I think this album is by far the most challenging for all the external reasons I’ve said, but then also having somebody like [him] there to challenge it even when you don’t want it.”
Knight often equates releasing an album that’s not better than the last as a disservice to both the artist and the listener. To him, there’s a certain level of nuance needed to fully analyze songs and decide whether they’re destined to be unforgettable or lackluster. “You sit on these ideas for years because you have to self-audit,” he says. “I like a lot of the people we’ve worked with, but we’ve never had a traditional A&R in that sense of they’re sitting there listening to the 50 songs and going, ‘You’re gonna use these ones.’ You have to be self-aware and be willing to be self-critical.”
Using “GWEN STEFANI” as an example of this, the track was originally a demo intended for the band’s 2021 album, Greatest Hits. Fans became invested in the few clips that Knight teased online throughout the years, continuously begging for an official release. “I wrote it during COVID and it just wasn’t right,” he says. “I know people get attached to things, but my thought is ‘If it wasn’t good enough for Greatest Hits, why would it be good enough for INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY?’ And then if I wanted to beat that, I’m like, ‘If it wasn’t good enough for two before this one, it obviously has to be figured out.’”
Knight took the structure of the initial demo and reworked it entirely for JINX, slowing the tempo and transforming the concept from an outdated reflection on pandemic isolation into a reckoning with self-image and abandonment. “I did a lot of songwriting exercises forcing myself to write during 2020 and I feel like [“GWEN STEFANI”] was a really cool idea, but what does complaining about losing my mind being inside do in 2026 and 2027 when we’re touring on it? It’s not as impactful as it could be,” he explains.
If something doesn’t feel timeless, it’s not good enough for Waterparks. “Normally with a song you’re catching a mood or a feeling that feels appropriate for the message you’re trying to convey,” he says. “With ‘TELL ME WHY,’ it’s by far the most narrative-driven song. Every scene, musically and lyrically, feels like you’re dressing a stage for a play or you’re setting a movie scene. I think starting at the end is cool.”
“You hear me die. You hear what heaven feels like and it fully changes the entire thing musically,” he adds. “Going to hell, it’s a completely different set of music. It sounds like fucking hell. It feels like we made a movie. It feels like we cast it, we scored it, we added all the Foley. We did everything but film it, basically.”
Knight continues to excitedly ramble about all the moving parts of “TELL ME WHY,” explaining in-depth about the most intricate details of his “earthly exit interview” and its monumental outcome. “Of course there’s more lyrics, but it’s like, I don’t wanna give people an eight-minute intro. I’m not trying to exhaust people at track one, but it doesn’t feel short. It doesn’t feel long. It’s like the perfect amount because every word, every syllable, every internal rhyme was accounted for,” he explains. “It’s more than a vignette of a feeling. It’s such a specific and concise thing, and it’s the perfect album opener in my opinion. I don’t know how we’re ever gonna beat that, I’ll be honest with you.”
If the album began with an extravagant, surreal story about death and resurrection, then it had to conclude with something even bigger. Once he figured out closer “GIRLS NEED GUNS,” Knight knew that JINX had become the masterpiece he set out to create. The final track stands as a chilling examination of the systematic aggression and violence towards women in the current political climate, and undoubtedly one of the hardest songs he’s ever written. “Songwriters write from personal experience,” he says. “It’s innately a little bit selfish, and the state of the world has just demolished my psyche. I feel like in this time writing for other people or for something bigger than myself, it gave [the album] that weight that made it feel like it matters more.”
After repeatedly struggling with the verses, he realized why nothing felt right: the words couldn’t come from a man’s perspective. Knight eventually turned to his mother for help, recording a phone conversation with her to use as notes while he continued writing. He then began layering her voice over the stripped-back arrangement and only allowed his own voice to come through on the chorus. The mostly spoken-word piece candidly shares his mother’s personal experience as a woman in America, taking shape as the emotional grand finale that JINX required. “I think that song, to me, is what it has to end on, and I hope that it either makes people feel less alone or provides new perspectives to people who maybe haven’t necessarily had the easiest way or opportunity to see that side of things.”
The album examines a wide range of Knight’s lived experiences, from intoxicating love songs reminiscent of Cluster and Entertainment’s pop-punk spirit to ruthless criticisms of fame elevated by blistering guitar solos and futuristic synths. “When you’re making art and expressing yourself in that way, it kinda doubles because not only are you just existing, but you’re expressing yourself, and you’re being earnest,” he says. “In the age of the internet where everyone’s watching everyone, people are so fucking scared to be earnest and so scared to be perceived.”
Knight is unflinchingly candid about the harsh reality of navigating social media as a musician, and emphasizes the overwhelming strain it’s taken on his own mental health throughout the years. “There’s something in singers that has to be a little broken where you’re like, ‘I need people to clap for me or I’m gonna fucking die,’” he explains. “I think I had a way harder time with it in the first years of us being signed and anyone knowing who we are. You just get new problems when things evolve. Things don’t get better, they just get differently weird.”
Opening the first verse of “IF LYRICS WERE CONFIDENTIAL” with the line, “I hate 50% of our fans, and the other half understands,” isn’t a misguided belief added for shock value; it’s the result of years of frustration and exhaustion. Waterparks has explored the grueling toll of parasocialism and industry toxicity with brutal honesty long before the JINX era, but this time it carries a heavier weight. The constant scrutiny and disrespect have only intensified throughout their career, leaving an alarming amount of people feeling entitled to personal details because of Knight’s active social media presence.
Not only has his experiences with his own fan community influenced this guarded perspective, but almost every interaction he sees across different platforms feels inherently hostile and draining to witness.“Everybody approaches everything in bad faith. People don’t care to understand things. Everybody will kill each other for 100 likes,” he continues. “It’s making me care a lot more about protecting my own sanity and doing more real world things.”
“At a certain point you just have to go, ‘Fuck it. Fine,’” Knight says. “If less tickets sell because I’m not glued to Twitter, then those tickets don’t sell. If less albums are gonna sell, which luckily this is still going very, very well, but at a certain point you just have to prioritize yourself and think about things long-term because I don’t want to have a fucking heart attack at 42.”
That self-actualization and commitment to growth define JINX’s 13 tracks. “It really is like reaching back into childhood [and] looking into the future,” Knight says of the album’s universal themes. “I’m not necessarily saying this is a strict concept, but it really is about finding yourself in those moments and trying to get a better grip on who you are.”
Knight continues to advise fans to fully immerse themselves in the first listen of each Waterparks album to properly experience the new body of work. That means curating an environment with the lights turned off, phone on Do Not Disturb, absolutely no shuffle play, and an open mind before diving in. “I want people to walk away from different songs with different things,” he says. “I want them to finish ‘RED GUITAR’ [and] believe in themselves, and believe in their inner child and shit. I want people to examine themselves when they hear ‘IF LYRICS WERE CONFIDENTIAL.’ I want people to feel like goddamn Tom Cruise driving through buildings while a fucking flood is destroying New York City, driving from rooftop to rooftop with his screaming kids in the car listening to ‘TASTES LIKE TANGERINE.’”
JINX is the culmination of everything that Waterparks has become: loud, ambitious, and a little weird in all the right ways. The intentional chaos bleeds through every note, manifesting as the band’s most theatrical progression that transforms pain into purpose. “I also wanted to make sure that it felt fully encompassing of life,” Knight says. “It’s a well-rounded look at life — of not only the last three years, but everything before and hypothetically after.”
