![]() While their alt-rock peers hunched in the smirking self-deprecation of “ Sex and Candy,” he crafted arena-sized records that owed as much to glam rock as to the post-grunge canon. The same grandiosity that always made Jenkins an easy target, however, is also what set Third Eye Blind apart. Or was it ‘98? As weeks turn to months, he cycles through bandmates and session players, and the old howling question remains: How’s it gonna be when you don’t know me anymore? As tales of Stephan Jenkins’ overbearing demeanor, business chicanery, and outright creepiness have mounted, the Third Eye Blind mastermind has become something of a caricature: Who does this “ semi-charmed” guy think he is? It’s easy to imagine the 57-year-old songwriter walled away in a fortress like Phil Spector, tinkering with bridges and chord progressions, scrawling four-syllable adjectives on scratch paper and hastily striking them out, smiling in recollection of adoring crowds from the 2009 homecoming show at Skidmore. ![]()
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