They Were a Pop Sensation in the Aughts. Now, They’re Something Else Entirely.

When JonasCon, an all-day special event celebrating the 20 years since the debut of the hit boy band the Jonas Brothers, was first announced in mid-February , anyone who still cared about the JoBros (myself included) thought it would be a disaster. After all, the announcement came less than two months before the event; information about what was actually going to happen during the convention was nowhere to be found, even mere weeks away; and it didn't help matters that there were last-minute reports that the Jonas Brothers were struggling to find sponsors for what would likely be a "complete and chaotic mess." Hints of an impending trainwreck angered fans ; not only were they financially invested in traveling to the event, but they were also feeling protective over (and worried about) the reputation of the once-popular band of brothers, who have been left behind in an era short on boy bands and heavy on " pop girlies ."

But what actually happened on that Sunday in March, at the behemoth that is the American Dream mall in East Rutherford, New Jersey , wasn't the reincarnation of Fyre Fest that everyone was expecting. It was something else entirely.

I've been a Jonas Brothers fan for most of my life, since before I even understood what being a fan of anything, or anyone, meant. For their nearly 20-year career—which is generous math, if we're factoring in their 2013 split that broke the hearts of teens everywhere, before they eventually reunited in 2019—I have loved their music, attended at least five of their tours, and painstakingly followed their lives and solo careers. I can give you a rundown of each brother's dating history and tell you their birthdays, and middle names, and which celebrity a specific song is supposed to be about, and regale you with a number of fandom-specific inside jokes. My original T-shirt from their 2009 world tour is one of my most prized possessions. But even I, a Disney Channel connoisseur and approved Zillennial fangirl, wasn't prepared for what I would see at JonasCon.

If you hadn't heard of the Jonas Brothers, or if you weren't aware that JonasCon was taking place, and you showed up to the mall last Sunday to buy a new pair of jeans, you were in for a surprise. The American Dream—which is more of a complex of attractions than it is a shopping center, with multiple theme parks and activities like indoor surfing —had been commandeered and turned into a sprawling Disney nostalgia factory, where Jonas deep cuts played on the mall's PA system all day. (When I say deep cuts, I'm talking deep ; the first song to greet me and my friend, a fellow JoBros fan, that afternoon was the lead single from Joe Jonas' flop of a debut solo album.) There was a Jonas-themed escape room, minigolf, and laser tag. Even the pizza stand became Jonas Pizza—complete with novelty pizza boxes that fans were ripping the tops off of to take home as keepsakes—and two of the sit-down restaurants had been transformed into rival eateries Camp Rock and Camp Star, mimicking the narrative backdrop of the 2010 Jonas-led Disney Channel Original Movie Camp Rock 2 . Of course, there were also a number of immersive photo ops where you could, for example, place yourself in the A Little Bit Longer album cover . Gia, a 25-year-old fan from New York, marveled at the sheer scale: "There's so much going on, it's like, Where do you start ?"

The logistics of JonasCon had been fans' main worry, but a child of the mid-to-late '90s knows to never bet against the military precision instilled by Disney training. Hordes of twenty- and thirtysomething Jonas vets moved between the activations and the convention's three different stages of simultaneous performances, two of which were ticketed and featured at least four separate sets by the Jonas Brothers. The event closed out with a final performance that actually ended up being a two-hour-long free Jonas Brothers concert, an amazing deal for the majority of the attendees, who had only paid in blood, sweat, and gas money to get here.

But it wasn't all picture-perfect: The mall's commitment to branded attractions also meant that when Jonas Brothers memorabilia was staged in a space, it would create a mind-boggling tonal clash with the abundant brand material already present. One ticketed stage, the Sky Stage, came with consistent reminders that it was presented to us via Paris Baguette. The other was in the mall's DreamWorks Water Park—temporarily dubbed "Jonas Beach Club" via posters that fans ceremoniously ripped off the walls and columns en masse when the day was done —where audience members watched the performances in the wave pool with, inscrutably, a giant Shrek statue over their heads and mascots from Madagascar roaming around. That is, unless you and seven of your friends pitched in $200 each for a $1,600 VIP suite. (Though it might be best if you didn't, as VIP attendees were reportedly pissed at their view of the stage , which was much further back than the general admission crowd, as well as their middling accommodations in suites.)

Everything made just enough sense to create a fun atmosphere, but only if you didn't think too hard about the organization. We had only God and a 2D map of a multilevel, 3D space to navigate through a chaotic sea of people, and there was no set schedule for the staged performances, meaning that when the Jonas Brothers surprised attendees with a performance from fellow late-aughts Nickelodeon boy band Big Time Rush, those watching at other stages likely missed it. (Somehow, everyone seemed to make it to watch another performer, the All-American Rejects, rock the stage.) There were some cringe-worthy moments—Mrs. Fields cookies ran a hilariously anti-climactic special event cookie—and a couple of head-scratchers: What do Jay Shetty and the Barstool Sports podcast Chicks in the Office , who were among the featured guests, have to do with the Jonas Brothers? Still, the ordeal was a far cry from the convention-based disasters we've come to gleefully mock online, like Glasgow's infamous Willy Wonka experience and the failed TanaCon . For a mostly free mall-concert experience, if you tried to have fun , odds are high that you would have .

The setting of JonasCon may have raised some eyebrows when it was announced, but in person and in hindsight, it made perfect sense. Here you are, in the mall—the iconic bastion of young adolescents—where Big Time Rush is performing by a Charlotte Russe store, and where Jonas Brothers hits are blasted over the speakers as the smell of Wetzel's Pretzels wafts through the air. The moment we walked into the American Dream, we witnessed a group of teens having an honest-to-God silly-string fight right by a Hollister. Minor stars from Camp Rock milled about and took pictures with fans while Big Rob— the JoBros' former bodyguard , who is most famous for his singular rap verse on the band's biggest hit "Burnin' Up" —did karaoke with other lucky fans . Everyone knew the words to the All-American Rejects' hit "Dirty Little Secret" and sang them at the top of their lungs. Multiple times, my friend and I found ourselves asking out loud, "What year is it? 2005? 6? 7?"

JonasCon was a time machine back to when I still had braces, an event that oozed nostalgia from every facet of its ideation. Nostalgia sells; it's why we have countless reboots and remakes, rewatch podcasts hosted by castmates of once-hit shows, attend 20-year career retrospectives mounted by music acts teetering on has-been-dom. The Jonas Brothers will not live forever, but the feeling of that time when they mattered most in the lives of their fans will. Nick Jonas, the youngest of the trio (and the husband of Priyanka Chopra ), told press at the event that it's "not lost on" the brothers that, when they debuted, they "were very much considered a teen phenomenon and a flash in the pan" to most people. "We recognize that somehow we sorta survived that," he said.

Back then, they survived it by making music that related to the universal teen experience. Now, they survive by looking back on that time; they brought back their original fire engine–red touring van for JonasCon, and even the merch they were selling was retro, featuring the group's original logo, font, and photos of them closer to their debut. Kevin, the eldest, told the media: "It's why we put this event on, it's to celebrate the fans that have been with us from the very beginning." Everything was about going back to their roots, down to the location of the gargantuan mall in Jersey, the boys' home state. (In another "huh?" moment, famed New York Giant Eli Manning arrived to announce that the Jonas Brothers were being inducted into the New Jersey Hall of Fame, which is, you guessed it, also in the mall.)

"I enjoyed the Jonas Brothers with my friends when I was 12, 13, and now I'm enjoying it with my friends when I'm 29," one fan, Jay, told me. "It's pretty crazy." Jay was particularly grateful for the full-circle moment, especially considering the fate of other boy bands, like One Direction; he is one of many fans who waited for the U.K. group's return, only to have that dream dashed by the recent shocking death of Liam Payne.

Being inside of the bubble of the teenage dream—while literally ensconced in the American Dream—makes you forget that the real world is still happening. (One harsh reminder: The mall's unionized sanitation workers handed out flyers detailing their fight for better working conditions to patrons entering the building.) Build the nostalgia machine and the fans will come, as best exemplified by a pregnant fan I saw who wore a shirt that said "Future Fan" over her bump. This is how the Jonas project keeps going. As Joe Jonas, the middle brother and the group's frontman, said to the media, "We still feel quite young," and it shows. The Jonas Brothers used JonasCon to announce a slew of new projects, from a 20th-anniversary tour and new solo and joint music to a memoir (that's still in the works) and even a new Disney+ holiday movie.

When the Jonas Brothers were on top of the world, life seemed simpler for the teens and tweens who adored them. Two decades later, life may have gotten more complicated, but one thing hasn't changed: As long as the JoBros can give devotees that same feeling, they will be there to receive it, from now until the year 3000 .