Jake, it’s so nice to see you back on a big stage. I remember when I was 14 and I tried to play your solos on the guitar and I never succeeded. Don’t isolate yourself anymore, do it for your many fans around the world. 

e, it’s so nice to see you back on a big stage. Those lights, that sound, the energy of the crowd—it’s where you belong. Seeing you up there again, guitar in hand and eyes focused like they always were, feels like the world finding its rhythm again. For so many of us, your music was more than just something to listen to. It was a reason to pick up an instrument, to stay up late figuring out a tricky riff, to believe that emotion could be carved into wood and wire.

I remember when I was 14, sitting on the edge of my bed with my cheap beginner guitar, trying desperately to play your solos. I’d rewind your live performances over and over again, fingers stumbling over the fretboard, hoping just once I could hit the right notes in the right order. I never really succeeded—but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fire your playing sparked in me and in so many others. You made the guitar feel like a language of its own—fluid, fierce, and full of soul.

You weren’t just a guitarist. You were a storyteller. Every bend, every slide, every note you let hang in the air carried something deeper—loss, hope, rebellion, resilience. Even when you weren’t in the spotlight, your legacy kept echoing in bedrooms, garages, open mics, and quiet moments when someone needed to feel a little less alone.

It’s easy to forget how much influence one person can have when they disappear from view. I imagine that’s been true for you at times—believing the world moved on, or that your voice didn’t carry as far as it used to. But Jake, let me tell you: you never left our hearts. And now that you’re back, it feels like a homecoming, not just for you, but for all of us who grew up with your music as a compass.

Please don’t isolate yourself again. Not because we expect perfection or demand constant output, but because you matter to people. Your music means something. Your presence means something. You gave so much, and we’re still here, ready to give back in whatever way we can. For every note you’ve played, there’s someone out there whose life was shifted, even just a little, because of it.

You’ve got fans around the world, Jake. Not just fans of your music, but fans of you. The artist. The soul behind the strings. We’re rooting for you, always. Let the lights warm your face again, let the crowd’s cheers remind you of your impact, and let yourself be seen, truly seen, for all that you are and all that you’ve given.

Welcome back to the big stage. We’ve missed you more than you know.