Tim Myers, once the bassist for OneRepublic, just tossed his hat into California’s lieutenant governor race. He’s ditching the glitz of music for the grit of politics, claiming the state’s broken system and Trump’s jabs at California pushed him to run.
Fox News reported that Myers, who co-founded the pop-rock band OneRepublic, announced his candidacy Monday, shifting gears from an earlier bid for a U.S. House seat.
This isn’t some midlife crisis stunt—he’s framing it as a mission to fix crime, homelessness, and corruption. Yet, swapping a congressional run for a state office smells like a strategic pivot, not a divine calling.
In April, Myers eyed a U.S. House seat, but by Monday, he’d set his sights on Sacramento via an Instagram post.
He’s banking on his outsider status to charm voters fed up with career politicians. But let’s be real: a rockstar’s charisma doesn’t guarantee competence in the statehouse.
Myers’ campaign website blames “a broken political system” and “Trump’s attacks on California” for his leap into politics.
He promises a “fresh, strong voice” to counter the Trump administration and push “commonsense solutions.” Sounds noble, but “commonsense” often means whatever voters want to hear, not what’s practical.
“He’ll bring a fresh, strong voice to the Lt. Governor’s office to fight back against the Trump administration’s attacks,” his website boasts. That’s a bold pledge, but California’s lieutenant governor has limited power—mostly ceremonial duties and a tie-breaking Senate vote.
Myers’ anti-Trump rhetoric might fire up progressives, but it risks alienating conservatives who see Trump as a bulwark against woke policies.
On Instagram, Myers painted a grim picture: “I’ve heard from neighbors and friends whose homes and small businesses were robbed. I’ve watched homelessness grow.” He’s tapping into real fears—crime and homelessness are spiking—but his solutions remain vague, and voters deserve specifics, not sob stories.
Myers’ Instagram post continued, “I’ve seen backdoor deals and political corruption—not just from Trump and his billionaire allies in Washington, but right here in our backyard in California.”
Corruption’s a bipartisan problem, so his finger-pointing at Trump feels like a cheap shot. If he’s serious, he’ll call out Sacramento’s entrenched elites with the same gusto.
He claims he’s stood “shoulder to shoulder with protesters demanding change,” but saw no state politicians joining them. That’s a crowd-pleasing line, but governing isn’t protesting—it’s grinding through budgets and laws. Myers needs to prove he’s more than a slogan-slinger.
By Thursday, Myers hit TMZ Live, slamming other lieutenant governor candidates: “Every single candidate that’s running right now for lieutenant governor said they want to be governor someday.” He’s got a point—political ladder-climbing is real—but dismissing ambition outright seems naive. Leadership often starts with big dreams, not just gripes.
Myers told TMZ Live, “You know the only ladder I care about is the working people here in California climbing up the ladder.” Nice sentiment, but California’s sky-high taxes and regulations crush small businesses and families. If Myers wants to help workers, he’ll need a plan to cut red tape, not just bash Trump.
He added, “They literally can’t afford to buy homes or pay for their rent or pay for groceries or put gas in their tank.” He’s right—California’s cost-of-living crisis is brutal—but his pivot to class-warrior feels rehearsed. Conservative voters might wonder if he’s just pandering to the coastal elite while ignoring middle-class struggles.
The lieutenant governor race, set for November, will test Myers’ mettle against seasoned politicos. His celebrity might draw cameras, but voters aren’t groupies—they want results. Fame alone won’t fix Sacramento’s mess.
Adding a twist, OneRepublic co-founder Ryan Tedder stirred controversy last month with an Instagram Story defending Trump’s military parade for the U.S. Army’s 250th anniversary.
“All politics & parties and righteous indignation aside, it’s a super bummer that instead of celebrating… We’re protesting,” Tedder wrote. His post, later deleted, suggests a band not fully aligned on politics.
Tedder also said, “I’d like to say THANK YOU to all of the Army service members active and retired and those who have given their lives to protect our freedom.” Honoring veterans is noble, but his defense of Trump’s parade clashed with Myers’ anti-Trump crusade. This intra-band drama could muddy Myers’ campaign narrative.
Myers’ run is a gamble—trading stage lights for Sacramento’s dim corridors. He’s got passion, but conservative Californians will demand substance over stardom. The November election will show if he’s a reformer or just another fame-chaser in politics.
