By The Fat Mantis

Look, we can stop pretending that a Netflix contract is a lifetime pass to the A-list. Most of the Stranger Things kids are going to have solid careers. They’ll do the indie circuit, maybe a few Marvel cameos, but very few are actually meant for superstardom. And honestly? It’s not Millie Bobby Brown. Despite the Bongiovi name and being the face of the “Netflix Queen” era, she feels more like a brand than a legend. If we’re talking about true, era-defining staying power, only two people are making the jump. Sadie Sink is already doing the work, positioning herself for an inevitable Academy Award, but the real dark horse who actually understood the assignment is Joe Keery.

Keery’s trajectory is fascinating because he never seemed to want the “Steve Harrington” fame to be his only personality trait. Back in 2015, while he was still slinging burgers at DMK in Chicago, he was just happy to book a gig that didn’t involve a hairnet. But even as the show went nuclear and his hair became a global talking point, Keery was quietly embedding himself in the Chicago psych-rock scene. He wasn’t just a “celebrity with a hobby”; he was a legitimate musician, drumming and playing guitar for Post Animal, a prog-rock outfit that was actually cool enough to play festivals like Daytrotter without needing a Netflix tie-in.

The problem, of course, is that fame is a parasite. When fans started showing up to Post Animal shows just to scream for “Steve,” Keery did the most hipster thing possible: he walked away. He valued the integrity of the band more than his own ego. But he didn’t stop creating. Under the moniker “Cool Cool Cool,” he started dropping bedroom-pop tracks that felt like Tame Impala’s InnerSpeaker had a love child with 80s synth-pop. This eventually birthed Djo. By the time “Roddy” dropped in 2019, it was clear this wasn’t a vanity project. It was a dense, psychedelic trip that Keery hid behind a shaggy wig and sunglasses to ensure the music was the only thing we were actually looking at.

Djo’s evolution from the “bedroom cultivation” of Twenty Twenty to the experimental synth-pop of DECIDE in 2022 showed a level of artistic growth most actors can’t touch. He was mocking social media and deconstructing the “half-life” of fame while the rest of the industry was still trying to figure out TikTok. Then, “End of Beginning” happened. Even if you aren’t a psych-rock purist, you couldn’t escape that song. It hit a billion streams because it tapped into a genuine nostalgia for your twenties, proving that Keery’s songwriting had more emotional weight than any Hawkins lab plotline.

By 2024, the “Steve Harrington is Djo” secret was officially out of the bag. The wig-and-sunglasses charade served its purpose; it allowed the art to sink or swim on its own merits before the mainstream caught on. While Keery was wrapping up the final season of Stranger Things and filming Fargo, he was also transitioning into a legitimate global headliner. He stopped hiding and started embracing the crossover, realizing that the anonymity was just a cocoon for the star power he was building. He wasn’t just “the guy from the show”; he was a musician who had successfully subverted the celebrity-to-singer pipeline.

Now that we’re in 2025, with The Crux on the horizon and a world tour alongside his old Post Animal crew, it’s clear Keery has won the long game. Seeing him play Australia or surprise shows in Williamsburg, you realize there’s an unabashedness to his presence that you don’t get from “manufactured” stars. He’s not just leaning on a franchise; he’s built a cult following that values his taste and his weirdness. Joe is Djo. No obstructions, no Netflix filter, just a guy who actually knows how to be a star without selling his soul to the algorithm.