‘Bleachers’ review: self-awareness and sax appeal from Jack Antonoff-led project

6 March, 2024

Bleachers

In the three years since Bleachers’ last album, 2021’s ‘Take The Sadness Out Of Saturday Night’, their leader’s star has ascended higher and burned brighter than ever. He’s won Producer Of The Year at the Grammys three years in a row, worked on records that have dominated the cultural conversation with Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, and The 1975, and felt like a ubiquitous presence across pop. It’s understandable, then, that, going into Bleachers’ self-titled fourth album, certain sections of the pop world are experiencing big Jack Antonoff fatigue.

Although music’s most in-demand producer is likely unbothered by this, he does acknowledge it on ‘Bleachers’. ‘Modern Girl’ – a sax-led roast of the band and modern culture – finds Antonoff turning his crosshairs on himself. “I guess I’m New Jersey’s finest New Yorker / Unreliable reporter, pop music hoarder,” he scoffs, the latter line a tongue-in-cheek nod to his perceived dominance over your favourite artists’ records. There’s a reason why Antonoff finds himself in that position, though, and this album is a timely reminder of that.

‘Bleachers’ is the collective’s most quintessentially “them” release yet. It evolves into new territory, of course, but is equally deeply connected to past releases – a by-product of spending a decade honing their dynamic and sound. Although it’s less prevalent now, there are meditations on grief and loss – topics Antonoff has explored at length over the years – and sonic call-backs. ‘Isimo’ shimmers with a similar spirit as ‘Gone Now’’s ‘All My Heroes’, albeit with fewer synths. When clips of dialogue perforate ‘Ordinary Heaven’, it’s an immediate link back to the snippets of speech that littered the band’s first two albums.

What Bleachers have always excelled at (and continue to do so here) is creating a very specific, very distinctive atmosphere in their best songs, like ‘Chinatown’ and ‘Dream Of Mickey Mantle’. It’s one that feels timeless and sentimental – the aural equivalent of leafing through old photo albums, each image glanced over bringing those residual feelings and memories rushing back; a simultaneous longing for what was and hoping for what’s to come. ‘Self Respect’ captures that perfectly, Evan Smith’s roaring sax solo uplifting following a contemplation on cancel culture and life’s “fast and unfair” nature.

While this album is largely a triumphant portrait of Antonoff’s talent and the band’s tight musical bond, it does have its pitfalls. Its final three songs let the record down, ‘We Are Going To Know Each Other Forever’’s change in pace to finger-picked acoustics lacking that spark to hold your interest and ‘Ordinary Heaven’ feeling like a tired tribute to past Bleachers. ‘The Waiter’ closes things out not in spectacular form but meandering and slurred.

It’s a huge 180 from other parts of ‘Bleachers’, which constitute some of the band’s best work yet. The Lana Del Rey-featuring ‘Alma Mater’ is another prime example of the Bleachers genius, ‘Tiny Moves’’ glistening undercurrent sounds like a sprinkle of magic, and ‘Jesus Is Dead’’s whispered indie rock assessment of New York micro-scenes and life in a band is pure gold. In those moments – a large chunk of this album – any hint of fatigue is blasted away, Antonoff’s presence a welcome one once again.