Photography by Amy Vartenuk

When I met Cleveland crooner Hayden Grove in a practice room at the Rock & Roll Hall of  Fame, it took about thirty seconds for a thought to form in my head.

Not “this will make a nice interview.”

Nope. 

More like:

Cleveland, I think we just found our guy.

Hayden was leaning back in his chair in what appears to be his off-stage uniform — black jeans, black tee, black leather jacket — the kind of effortless crooner look that makes it seem like he might casually break into a Sinatra standard or Elvis single at any moment.

His voice was warm and inviting, the way great singers’ speaking voices often are. Calm. Measured. Almost restrained.

Like someone holding a powerful engine at idle — warm and steady, with a lot more energy humming just beneath the surface.

And as I sat there listening to him talk about music, family, and Cleveland, the conclusion became obvious.

We’re claiming him.

Officially.

Hayden Grove may have grown up in Florida, but Cleveland has clearly decided he belongs here.

And if we’re going to adopt the man, we should probably know his story.

Like most good crooner stories, Hayden’s begins with family.

His extended family lived in Cleveland, and as a kid growing up in Florida he spent a lot of time there visiting them — especially his grandfather, who he said was his best friend.

Grandpa K. took him to ball games, showed him around the city, and quietly introduced him to the Cleveland that would eventually steal his heart.

On the other side of the family tree, music was everywhere.

His dad’s side of the family was always making or appreciating music — singing in the car, singing in church, listening to Nat King Cole together.

You could feel Hayden’s love for them radiating through the room as he talked about those early years.

In a way, Hayden’s three great loves — Cleveland, sports, and music — arrived the same way.

Through family.

Just as his grandfather led him to Cleveland, one afternoon his parents’ album collection led him somewhere else entirely.

He found Harry Connick Jr.’s Blue Light, Red Light.

He put it on.

And his whole world opened up.

In the years that followed, he started dreaming.

Singing in hallways.

Picturing himself on a big stage in front of thousands.

And he never really looked back.

He had fallen in love.

Early voice teachers tried to steer him toward versatility.

“You need to be able to sing anything.”

He knew they were right.

But if he was being honest, he just wanted to croon the old classics.

Years later, another voice would enter Hayden’s story in a way he never could have predicted.

When thinking back to his school years, he recalls walking down the hallways with his red Walkman over his ears, listening to Michael Bublé’s new album ‘It’s Time’, and dreaming. 

“I would sing in the halls and whistle, and I didn’t care who knew it.”

At the time, it was just a kid imagining what it might feel like to stand on stage and sing.

But life has a funny sense of timing.

Years later, Bublé himself would discover Hayden — introducing his voice to a much wider audience and pulling him toward the spotlight he’d once only imagined.

Millions of viewers would later see him when he appeared on Season 27 of The Voice, but long before the television cameras arrived, Hayden was already carving out his place in Cleveland — posting his music on social media while working as a local sports reporter.

Even now, he talks about his musical path as something still evolving.

“I think that’s what I’m working on — is kind of finding my own sound.”

About halfway through our conversation, I asked Hayden what he felt about people reducing Cleveland to a punchline. 

The answer came fast.

“I HATE that.”

He shook his head when he said it, his whole body flexing with the kind of frustration you only feel when someone insults something you love.

He couldn’t keep it bottled up.

Again, he whispered, “I hate that.”

There was a small smile afterward, like he knew how much emotion had just escaped the room.

But the message was clear.

Hayden Grove loves Cleveland.

Deeply.

And part of that love comes from what the city allowed him to be.

Not just a singer.

Not just a sports reporter.

Not just a performer or a mental health advocate.

Cleveland, he explained, gave him the freedom to explore all of those things — to live multiple lives creatively until he figured out who he really was.

To become himself.

“Every pocket of Cleveland has its own kind of beauty.”

It’s the kind of observation you expect to hear from someone who grew up here.

Except Hayden didn’t.

He chose Cleveland.

And Cleveland, it seems, has chosen him right back.

The longer we talked, the clearer something became.

Hayden is, at heart, a romantic.

He talks about music the way some people talk about faith. With reverence. With gratitude. With an almost old-fashioned belief that beautiful things matter.

When he laughs — and he does, often — it comes out in a mix of velvety, hearty bursts and warm chuckles as he leans back and gathers himself.

He’s reserved at first, but the energy inside him is unmistakable. The kind of bubbling enthusiasm that eventually finds its way out when the subject turns to music, or Cleveland, or the people he loves.

Family matters deeply to him. So do the friends who have supported him along the way.

And Cleveland? Cleveland clearly sits somewhere very close to the center of his heart.

Part of Hayden’s journey has been shaped by an unlikely friendship with the very artist who once lived in his headphones.

Michael Bublé.

Their connection — which Hayden jokes began during a Christmas night that involved a little too much Great Lakes Christmas Ale — grew into something deeper than a career boost.

Bublé encouraged him.

Supported him.

Believed in him.

And ever since, Hayden has been trying to live up to that faith.

“That’s the dream.” he says. “To get on stage in front of thousands of people and sing this music that I just love and to do it in my own way, and to use Michael’s influence, Harry’s influence, Frank’s influence, to use all the influences… and put ’em into one and imagine Hayden’s way.”

Not imitation.

Stewardship.

Taking the music he loves and carrying it forward.

“I want to do it the correct way.” he says. “When I was ten, Michael Bublé was my hero. It wasn’t Frank Sinatra. It wasn’t Dean Martin. Michael was my introduction to [this music] and if it wasn’t for him there’s no way I’m doing what I’m doing.”

Hayden’s respect for the craft, the music, and his legacy just shine out of him.

And he also embodies one more piece of the puzzle that many performers lack: true gratitude. Not just for outcomes, but for those that lifted him up along the way and set him on his path.

By the time our conversation wrapped up, the Rock Hall practice rooms had gone quiet.

And I kept coming back to the same thought I’d had in the first few minutes.

Cleveland has adopted Hayden Grove.

He performs here. He celebrates the city. He defends it with the kind of loyalty that makes lifelong Clevelanders nod in approval.

He even released his very first original song, My Home — a literal love letter to Cleveland.

With lyrics like:

“Cleveland, didn’t know if you would open up, but here I am, I’m feeling all your love…”

and

“I know it’s strange that I love you so.”

If you can listen to it without tearing up, you’re a stronger soul than I am.

So if you haven’t heard him sing yet, consider this your introduction.

Cleveland, meet your crooner.

And Cleveland is lucky to have him.

Hayden performs regularly across Northeast Ohio. Upcoming shows include:

Corelone’s in Parma: Sat, Mar 14 @ 6:30PM — 9:30PM
Nido Italian in Cleveland: Sun, Mar 15 @ 5:00PM — 8:00PM
Triv’s in Strongsville: Fri, Mar 13 @ 7:00PM — 10:00PM

Follow Hayden:

Instagram: @h_grove
TikTok: @h_grove
Hayden’s Website: haydenfrankgrove.com

Much love,

P.S. You can watch the exact moment where Michael Bublé recognized Hayden in the crowd and skyrocketed him to fame. It’s pretty incredible - watch it here! It’s absolutely wild. 🤯