Jac Dazzo Refuses to Stay Silent on “United States of Hypocrites”

Pop music has always had the power to entertain, but the genre’s most memorable moments often emerge when artists are willing to challenge the status quo. On “United States of Hypocrites,” Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Jac Dazzo delivers exactly that kind of moment.

Written in a burst of emotion after witnessing ongoing conversations surrounding immigration, political division, and cultural double standards, the single feels less like a polished political statement and more like a raw release of frustration. Dazzo isn’t interested in choosing sides. Instead, he shines a spotlight on the contradictions he sees woven throughout American society, questioning why compassion is so often preached yet rarely practiced.

What makes the track compelling is its refusal to hide behind vague messaging. Dazzo tackles topics many artists avoid, from immigration and LGBTQ+ rights to religious hypocrisy and accountability among those in positions of power. While the subject matter is undeniably provocative, the song never feels rooted in cynicism. Beneath the frustration lies a genuine desire for empathy, self-reflection, and collective growth.

Musically, “United States of Hypocrites” intentionally leans into repetition. The melody remains largely consistent throughout the song, mirroring the cyclical nature of the social and political issues Dazzo explores. It creates a hypnotic quality that allows listeners to focus closely on the lyrics and their message.

The release also highlights the strength of Dazzo’s creative community. He co-produced the track alongside longtime collaborator Steven Esposito, with Grammy-nominated engineer Ryan Ansel handling mixing and mastering. Electric guitar contributions from Luca Gulisano add texture and emotional weight, further deepening the song’s already powerful foundation.

At a time when many artists play it safe, Jac Dazzo chooses honesty. Whether listeners agree with every perspective presented or not, “United States of Hypocrites” succeeds in sparking conversation, encouraging critical thinking, and reminding us that accountability should never be partisan. Sometimes the most important songs aren’t the ones that provide answers. They’re the ones brave enough to ask uncomfortable questions.

"United States of Hypocrites" was written incredibly quickly. Do you think some of your strongest songs come from instinct rather than overthinking?

I definitely think my strongest songs come from instinct and trusting myself. Overthinking is the biggest block to creativity. If you're constantly judging every idea the moment it arrives, you'll never give it a chance to become something meaningful.

I've learned that part of the creative process is giving yourself permission to write something imperfect and trusting that you can refine it later. You have to learn to trust yourself. I also try to remind myself that as long as I like it, that is what's important. Art is subjective, so just write what you need to express in that moment. If people can relate to it, then that's awesome.

I believe many artists can channel their creativity. For me, meditation plays a huge role in that process. While writing, sometimes I'll meditate and invite my spirit guides to join me creatively. Some of my favorite songs have arrived that way. "Be More Brave" was written in about thirty minutes during a meditation session. The melody and lyrics seemed to appear out of nowhere.

The same thing happened with my song "Revolution." I didn't sit down with a specific concept or message in mind. I simply created space, got quiet, and allowed whatever wanted to come through to emerge naturally. Connecting with your higher self is a great way to create art.

I believe ideas are floating around in the universe, waiting for someone to pull them down into the physical world. I know artists like Michael Jackson believed this as well. I am sure I'm not the only artist who feels that way.

However, "United States of Hypocrites" was written in a more traditional way. I was upset, grabbed my guitar, and said what I needed to say.

The song addresses several highly polarizing topics. Were you ever concerned about how people might react to such direct commentary?

Absolutely. I have family members and friends whose political views differ from my own, so I knew writing this song could upset some people. But I also knew it was something I needed to say and people needed to hear.

For most of my life, I was a chronic people pleaser. I measured my worth by how well I could keep everyone happy. It took me years to realize that constantly seeking approval from others is one of the fastest ways to lose yourself.

There were plenty of times when I stayed quiet, softened my opinions, or even agreed with things I didn't truly believe because I wanted to avoid conflict and keep the peace. I was afraid that if I spoke my truth, I might lose people along the way.

But my throat chakra is open more than ever now. Writing about these polarizing topics is freeing for me. Speaking your truth helps you find your tribe. If you don't agree, you don't have to listen.

You intentionally kept the melody relatively unchanged throughout the track. What was important about that creative decision in reinforcing the song's message?

It actually started as a happy accident, which ties back to the importance of trusting your instincts as a songwriter. I let the song unfold naturally and, once it was finished, realized it wasn't structured like most of the songs I've written before.

The repetition of the melody began to feel symbolic. It reminded me of how, in many ways, we seem to be repeating history here in the United States. At one point, I considered changing the melody, but once I made that connection, I knew I had to leave it exactly as it was.

To me, the repetitive nature of the song became part of the message itself.

I believe collaboration is an essential part of making great music, but I also think it's important to trust your creative instincts when you feel strongly about something.

There was a moment during the production process when my producer suggested resolving the final phrase and ending the song with the word "hypocrites." Instead, I felt strongly about ending on the word "of." For me, it completely changed the emotional impact of the ending.

Ending on "of" leaves the listener hanging in a moment of unresolved tension. It feels unfinished and uncertain, which is exactly how I feel about where the United States is headed right now.

Those kinds of details may seem minor, but they're some of my favorite parts of the creative process. Sometimes the smallest artistic choices carry the biggest meaning, and discovering those moments is part of what makes songwriting so rewarding.

You've spoken openly about authenticity, mental health, and inner healing throughout your career. How do those themes connect to this release, even though it's more politically charged than some of your previous work?

These themes connect in many ways. Part of being authentic is speaking your truth, even if people may disagree. I am singing my truth on this song.

The political climate and current events have had huge effects on many different communities, including the Latino community. I often think about how traumatizing it must be for these families to be torn apart and wrongfully discriminated against.

Part of my healing and mental health journey has been unpacking the sexual abuse I experienced as a kid. I reference the Epstein Files and allegations surrounding Donald Trump because no individual should be above scrutiny or accountability, regardless of their wealth, status, or political affiliation. I understand firsthand how much shame survivors often carry. It can be extremely difficult to process and speak openly about these experiences.

The song also connects to my advocacy for mental health within the LGBTQ community. LGBTQ individuals experience significantly higher rates of depression, anxiety, and suicide, often because they grow up receiving messages that who they are is somehow wrong, sinful, or unacceptable.

When I sing about queer people being brave, I'm speaking from a place of lived experience. There is incredible courage in choosing to live authentically in a world that doesn't always accept you. Being yourself in a world where most people conform is one of the bravest things you can do.

You create music alongside people who are deeply connected to your personal journey. How has working with Steven Esposito, Ryan Ansel, and Luca Gulisano influenced your growth as both an artist and a person?

I am lucky to be in a position to create my art alongside friends.

Steven Esposito is a genius producer, and I love seeing him experiment on all my different tracks. Whether it's the technical aspects of producing music or teaching me a new yoga pose, I am constantly learning something new from him.

I can be indecisive at times, but Steven has been incredibly patient throughout the creative process. He's also been a great unofficial therapist (don't worry, I have a real therapist).

I was in the studio with Steven when I got the call last year that my brother-in-law had taken his own life. Steven has seen me at some of my lowest lows and highest highs, and through all of it, he's shown up with compassion and understanding.

Sharing and creating your art can be an intimate experience, but Steven makes it easy to let my guard down. I am grateful to be on this journey with him.

My relationship with Ryan Ansel feels a little like a full-circle moment. We grew up just a few houses away from each other in Connecticut. He was six grades below me and friends with my younger sister, so our paths didn't really cross much back then.

After losing touch for a long time, we reconnected when my sister mentioned that Ryan was now mixing and mastering music professionally in Los Angeles.

As an independent artist, there is so much you have to learn and do yourself. Ryan has taken the time to show me how he mixes songs and has been incredibly helpful in making sure we get the mixes exactly where I want them.

Beyond his technical talent, Ryan has also been a source of inspiration. A song he worked on was recently nominated for a Grammy. Seeing someone from the same hometown achieve that level of success makes my own dreams feel a little more tangible.

We're both kids from Danbury, Connecticut, who followed creative paths all the way to Los Angeles, and watching his success has been a powerful reminder that extraordinary things are possible. I'm incredibly grateful not only for his expertise but for the perspective and encouragement he's brought to my journey.

I was stoked when Luca Gulisano agreed to lay down electric guitar on this track.

Luca and I used to serve tables together at a restaurant called TomTom. After I somehow found myself involved in the sidelines of a reality TV scandal, I knew I wanted to reinvent myself and finally share my art with the world. I had no clue where to start getting my music produced.

Ironically, I didn't have to look very far. Luca was the first person who actually took the time to listen to the songs I had been writing. He got me into his studio and helped me turn them into demos. I learned the very basics of recording from him.

He truly gave me the confidence to pursue my dream and validated that what I was writing had value. At a point in my life when I felt pretty lost, Luca helped guide me in the right direction. For that, I am truly grateful.

Everything happens for a reason. Steven, Ryan, and Luca have all played a meaningful role in shaping my path as a late bloomer in the music industry.