For Evan Stephens Hall, the ampersand is more than semi-alphabetic—it’s prophetic. Hall, lead singer of indie rock band Pinegrove, has been deeply moved by the symbolism behind the character “&.” He’s given it prime real estate in Pinegrove cover art, etched it onto merch and, as if that wasn’t enough, inked it onto his upper arm.

In an interview with Pitchfork, Hall shed some light on his ampersand philosophy: “It’s an adventurous perspective, and it also does not try to collapse or reduce or one-dimensionalize experience—there are many layers to everything that’s going on, and they’re not competing, they co-exist. And you don’t have to choose. In fact, to choose is a little bit foolhardy. Never either/or, always and.”

Perhaps it’s this dedication to inclusivity which has drawn people to Pinegrove. One look at their Twitter page provides evidence of the tight-knit community which has popped up around them. From retweets of song covers to Pinegrove-inspired tattoos, the band is eager to return some of the love they are showered with by fans.

Pinegrove is the most endearing gang to ever be equipped with musical instrument, and a glance at Hall tells why: he could affectionately be described as a goofball, his fashion most closely akin to that of a toddler. Typical Hall dress consists of a t-shirt (preferably of a primary color), tucked into jeans which are secured with a belt that he may or may not have stolen from his dad’s closet.

Hall’s quirkiness is not grounds to dismiss his erudition, though. He holds an English degree from Kenyon College, and his lyrics are tellingly bookish (the man throws around words like “solipsistic” and “labyrinthine” as if they’re nothing). Realizations of their profundity descend gradually, only after you’ve had their catchy-as-hell melodies swirling around your head, imbuing a little sunshine into your everyday routine.

When it comes to Pinegrove’s merit, just as much credit is due to their sound. Pinegrove often gets lumped in with their more emo-leaning colleagues because they share a fan base, demonstrate the same introspection in their lyrics, and are signed to a punk record label. But while emo and Pinegrove overlap in ephemeral matters, they diverge in essence. Emo is draining. Pinegrove is liberating.

Pinegrove’s magnetism is attracting media attention. Their upbeat originality earned them a surprising #9 spot on NPR’s “Top 100 Songs of 2016” (surprising for no other reason than their lack of renown—they have under 30,000 Spotify followers), humbly situated between some of the most popular artists of the decade, like Chance the Rapper (#6) and Frank Ocean (#12).

The band is burgeoning, and quickly. Their origin story is similar to that of many DIY go-getters from north Jersey (The Front Bottoms, Screaming Females, and The Bouncing Souls come to mind). As Hall and Pinegrove drummer Zack Levine have repeatedly divulged, there’s a fertile ground for music in Jersey suburbia. The band was formed in Montclair, the hometown of Hall and Levine. The two Pinegrove founders were childhood friends—they met at age of 7—and their parents play music together, too.

Since their early days of hometown jamming and bandcamp EPs, Pinegrove has been picked up by Run For Cover Records. The label compressed the band’s previously released tracks into an album in 2015, appropriately named Everything So Far. Cardinal, Pinegrove’s second studio album, was released last year.

Bands come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. After one listen to Pinegrove, it will be clear why they qualify for the latter.