WELCOME TO MAD CONCEPTS GROUP
MAKING A DIFFERENCE
THROUGH HOSPITALITY & SERVICE
INVESTMENTS / OPERATIONS / OPPORTUNITIES
WELCOME TO MAD CONCEPTS GROUP
MAKING A DIFFERENCE
THROUGH HOSPITALITY & SERVICE
Jakes has been serving up stacked burgers, cold beer, & good times for 40 years-and we’ve only gotten better with age. With a playful personality, a nostalgic vibe, & a die-hard local following. Jakes fills the gap between fast food & fine dining with something way more memorable: quality food, killer service, & a come-as-you-are attitude. We’ve modernized the experience without losing the soul, making Jakes a go-to hangout for families, sports fans, & burger lovers across DFW.
Tacos & Avocados is our love letter to authentic Mexican food-with fresh, vibrant flavors served in a modern, playful space. We’re filling a gap in the fast-casual scene by delivering chef driven recipes, creative drinks, & an atmosphere that’s both laid back & full of energy. Build from the ground up by MAD Concepts Group, this brand is rooted in authenticity, crafted with care, & designed to become a local favorite wherever it lands. And yes, there are killer margaritas.
I shouldn’t have downloaded it. But the file name was a whisper from a god I didn’t believe in.
The electric guitars were supposed to be a wall of distortion. But stem 12 was a clean, lonely Telecaster, recorded through a dying amp. It wasn’t playing the chords from the song. It was playing a different melody. Something sad. Something searching.
I clicked it.
A normal song has eight, maybe twelve tracks: drums, bass, guitar, vocals. Forty stems meant everything . Every breath, every finger slide, every creak of the studio chair. It meant the song had been autopsied.
The track ended with a car engine starting. Not a Mustang. Not a rental.
But buried in the overhead mics, barely audible, was a sound that wasn’t in the final mix. A car door slamming. Then another. Two sets of footsteps. One heavy (boots), one light (heels). Then a whisper: “We have three minutes before he checks the garage.”
I grabbed my keys.
“He’s in the rearview / wiping his eyes / you told me you loved me / but that was a lie / the real Bonnie and Clyde never survived / and neither will we / when this tape arrives.”
I loaded the first stem into Pro Tools. The 24-bit, 48k resolution was pristine—better than master tapes. It was the heartbeat of “Getaway Car”: the kick drum that mimics a racing engine, the snare that cracks like a pistol.
A getaway car.