The red chairs of The Voice stage, those swivel seats that have launched legends and launched hearts into overdrive since the show’s 2011 debut, have borne witness to countless “wow” moments—four-chair turns that spark bidding wars, blocks that ignite playful rivalries, and tears that blur the line between coach and contestant. But on the balmy evening of September 23, 2025, during the season 28 premiere’s second night of Blind Auditions at Universal Studios Hollywood, something transcendent unfolded, a performance so raw and resonant it transcended the competition’s glossy sheen and plunged straight into the soul of the show. At the center was Jake Harlan, a 24-year-old wedding singer from Spokane, Washington, whose unassuming entrance—faded Levi’s, a simple black tee, and a guitar slung over his shoulder like an old friend—belied the vocal earthquake about to erupt. When he opened his mouth to deliver a stripped-down, soul-baring rendition of Michael Bublé’s “Feeling Good,” the room didn’t just shift; it surrendered. Bublé’s eyes welled up almost instantly, his crooner composure cracking like fine china under the weight of a voice that echoed his own with uncanny intimacy. Reba McEntire, the Queen of Country in her fourth season behind the panel, didn’t just sob—she rose, hands clasped over her heart, tears carving rivers down her cheeks as she mouthed the lyrics along with Jake. “Boy, you didn’t just sing that—you lived it,” she gasped post-song, her voice a tremulous thread. You’ve never seen The Voice like this: a wedding crooner turning the stage into a confessional, his Team Bublé journey igniting a firestorm that brought the house down and reminded millions why music isn’t just notes—it’s nerve endings exposed.
Jake Harlan’s audition wasn’t the product of polished prep or viral TikTok tricks; it was the culmination of a life spent serenading strangers at the altar, turning “I Do’s” into “Oh, wow’s” with a voice that’s equal parts velvet thunder and vulnerable whisper. Hailing from the evergreen embrace of Spokane—where winters bite and community binds tighter than a family quilt—Jake grew up the son of a high school choir director mom and a dad who moonlighted as a karaoke DJ. By 12, he was belting show tunes at local fairs, his tenor a precocious blend of Bublé’s swing and Chris Stapleton’s grit. College at Eastern Washington University veered him toward business, but a summer gig at a Coeur d’Alene wedding venue changed everything. “I saw this bride’s face light up during ‘At Last’—like the world stopped,” Jake recalled in a pre-audition confessional, his hazel eyes earnest behind wire-rimmed glasses. “That’s when I knew: I want to be the soundtrack to people’s happiest days.” Fast-forward seven years: Jake’s become Spokane’s go-to groom crooner, commanding $1,500 per set at venues from lakeside lodges to vineyard vows. His repertoire? A eclectic mix—Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet” for the rom-com entrances, Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” for first dances, and originals like “Vows in the Rain” that sneak in when the crowd’s tipsy enough to cheer. But life’s underbelly tempered his tone: a 2022 breakup that left him couch-surfing and questioning his path, a freelance hustle that meant ramen nights between receptions. The Voice wasn’t a whim; it was a wedding singer’s vow to himself—to trade “I Do’s” for “You Do’s,” to step from side gigs to spotlights.
The audition itself was a masterclass in minimalism, a stark contrast to the season’s flashier turns—neon-haired pop belters and guitar-shredding rockers that had Snoop Dogg blocking Reba and Niall Horan fist-bumping mid-song. Jake entered stage right, guitar in tow, his 6-foot frame slouched just enough to scream “relatable underdog.” Host Carson Daly, ever the affable emcee in his slim-fit suit, introduced him with a grin: “Jake’s used to singing for brides and grooms—let’s see if he can woo the coaches.” The band hushed to a lone piano—subtle swells from music director Paul Mirkovich—and Jake launched into the opening bars: “♪ Birds flying high, you know how I feel… ♪” His voice unfurled like smoke from a bonfire—smooth baritone lows that evoked Bublé’s lounge lizard charm, then climbing into a tenor soar on “It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me…” that hit the arena like a sunrise after a storm. No pyrotechnics, no key changes for show; just Jake, eyes closed, channeling the song’s 1965 Nina Simone origins through his wedding-honed heartfeltness. The coaches—Bublé in a velvet blazer that screamed “crooner chic,” Reba in a crimson cowgirl ensemble, Snoop in his signature shades and chain, Niall in casual plaids—sat riveted. Gwen Stefani, season vet in a Harajuku-hued jumpsuit, hit her button first, her chair spinning with a “Holy moly, that’s soul!”
But it was Bublé’s reaction that stole the breath from the room. The Canadian charmer, whose own Blind Audition turns have netted him back-to-back season wins (27 with Carter Rubin, 28 with Bella DeRosso), leaned forward as Jake hit the bridge: “♪ Freedom is mine, and I know how I feel… ♪” His eyes, usually twinkling with that perpetual mischief, glistened under the studio lights. By the final “♪ And I’m feeling good ♪”—delivered with a vibrato that trembled like a bride’s first kiss—Bublé’s hand flew to his mouth, tears spilling freely. “Oh, man,” he choked, voice breaking as his chair spun instinctively. “That… that got me. You’re singing my song, but you made it yours—like you poured your whole story into it.” The audience, a mix of superfans in “Team Bublé” tees and industry scouts scribbling notes, erupted in cheers, but Bublé wasn’t done. Wiping his cheeks with a sleeve, he stood, gesturing wildly: “I’ve sung this a thousand times, but tonight? You just made me feel it deeper than ever. Welcome to Team Bublé, brother.” Reba, beside him, had been swaying subtly, her eyes pooling from the first chorus. As Jake’s final note hung—a sustained, soulful high A—she rose, applauding through sobs. “Jake, honey, that was pure heart,” she managed, her Oklahoma twang thick with emotion. “You didn’t just perform—you preached. I’m so proud of you already.” Snoop, shades slipping, nodded solemnly: “Real recognize real—that’s pain turned poetry.” Niall, ever the underdog ally, added: “Mate, you’ve got the X factor—the one that makes legends.”
The emotional dominoes kept falling. Gwen, turning second, quipped through misty eyes: “Bublé’s crying? That’s my cue—Jake, you’re a force.” But Reba’s response sealed the spell: she didn’t just turn; she blocked Bublé in a season-first twist, her button flashing red as she laughed through tears. “Michael, darlin’, I can’t let you have him— that voice is country gold with a swing chaser. Jake, you’re mine!” The crowd gasped, then roared, the block a playful punchline to the pathos. Jake, overwhelmed, chose Team Reba—”It’s an honor, ma’ams and sirs”—but not before hugging Bublé, the coach whispering, “Make me proud, kid—sing like that every time.” Backstage, with his mom (a wedding planner who’d booked half his gigs) and fiancée (met at a 2023 reception where he crooned “Can’t Help Falling in Love”), Jake exhaled: “I saw Bublé tear up, and it hit me—this is real. Weddings are magic, but this? This is my shot.” Reba, pulling him aside, shared: “I’ve sobbed to songs before, but yours? It reminded me why we do this—for the stories in the silence.”
Jake’s path to the stage was paved with petals and pitfalls, a wedding singer’s odyssey that’s as quintessentially American as apple pie at a backyard BBQ. Spokane’s evergreen charm shaped him: summers at Liberty Lake jamming with garage-band buddies, winters in church basements harmonizing hymns that taught him to emote without ego. His first paid gig? Age 16, $50 to serenade a backyard elopement with “Stand by Me,” the bride’s tears his first standing ovation. By 20, he was the go-to guy for Inland Northwest nuptials—$800 sets at Coeur d’Alene resorts, where he’d weave in personal touches like custom lyrics for the couple’s inside jokes. “Every wedding’s a snapshot of someone’s forever,” he says, “and I get to be the frame.” But the grind ground deep: a 2022 car wreck that sidelined him for months, forcing him to bus tables between bookings; a near-miss with a major label scout who ghosted after a demo; the quiet doubt of “Am I good enough for more than ‘Happy’ at receptions?” The Voice application? A Hail Mary in April 2025, audition tape filmed in his mom’s basement with a cracked iPhone. “I picked ‘Feeling Good’ because Bublé’s my hero—he makes joy sound like medicine,” Jake explained. Little did he know, his take would be the cure.
The performance’s power lay in its purity—a cappella start that built to a band swell of brushed drums and upright bass, Jake’s guitar strums sparse and storytelling. His phrasing? A crooner’s caress on the verses, swelling to a belter’s blaze on the chorus, that final “good” lingering like a lover’s goodbye. Bublé, whose own “Feeling Good” from 2010’s Crazy Love is a jazz-infused staple (Grammy-nominated, 5 million streams on Spotify alone), later confessed: “He took my song and made it his therapy—I saw my younger self up there, chasing that feeling.” Reba’s sobs? Rooted in resonance: the hymn-like hope in Jake’s tone echoing her own “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia,” a No. 1 from 1972 that’s wrung tears from generations. The block? Season spice—Reba’s fourth in a row, her “Queen” energy blocking Bublé twice already this season. Post-audition, the coaches mobbed him: Snoop with a “Keep it 100, kid,” Niall with vocal tips, Gwen with a “You’re a star—don’t change.”
The ripple? Instant and immense. Clips hit NBC’s YouTube at 10 million views by morning, fans dubbing it “Bublé’s Breakdown Audition.” TikTok exploded: edits syncing Jake’s high note to slow-mo tears, challenges of wedding singers covering “Feeling Good” in tuxes. X trended #JakeHarlanVoice, with #TeamReba surging 300%. Reddit’s r/TheVoice crowned it “the emotional blind of the season,” threads dissecting “How a wedding crooner cracked the crooner king.” Radio spun it nonstop—iHeartCountry teasing “From vows to wow’s,” SiriusXM’s Highway 56 slotting Jake’s tape beside Bublé’s hits. For Jake, now in Reba’s Battles (paired with a soulful R&B belter on “Stay” by Sugarland), it’s validation: “Reba’s teaching me to own the ache—that’s her superpower.” Bublé, mentoring from afar, sent a care package: signed vinyls and a note: “You felt good? Make ’em all feel it.”
In a season stacked with Snoop’s swagger (his first win tease) and Niall’s underdog fire, Jake Harlan’s audition stands as a beacon: The Voice at its visceral best, where a 24-year-old’s wedding whispers become a world’s wake-up call. You’ve never seen it like this—not tears from the untouchable, not sobs from the stoic, not a house united in hushed awe. Jake didn’t just turn a chair; he turned the tide, proving that in music’s grand game, the purest players win hearts first. As Reba put it, dabbing her eyes: “He sang like tomorrow’s not promised—and damn if that didn’t make today eternal.” Tune in Mondays—Jake’s story’s just the overture.
