REVIEW: Only My People Can See Me: The Modern Timelessness of Bleachers
The not-so solo project of Jack Antonoff brilliantly combines synthpop and Springsteen at Coca-Cola Roxy in Atlanta
There comes a time in every young person’s life in which they break free from the musical course set before them and venture into sonic worlds beyond the family minivan’s radio. It is a pivotal, often life-altering moment, representative of newly-found footing and a sprouting sense of self.
Bleachers was one of the first bands I discovered on my own. That is, at the merciful hand of the Spotify algorithm, but more importantly, apart from my parents’ CD collection. The finding represented a synthesis between old and new, my musical roots and the burgeoning tastes of my adolescent years. Synthpop meets Springsteen. A coming-of-age soundtrack for a digital generation.
I caught Bleachers’ last Atlanta gig at The Tabernacle the summer I graduated high school, and I knew I couldn’t miss their return. On Monday, the band rocked out the Coca-Cola Roxy with their Bleachers Forever tour, bringing some serious New Jersey gusto down to Georgia.
Bleachers was birthed in 2013 as a solo endeavor for Antonoff, who had previously co-founded indie pop groups Steel Train and fun. The project soon transformed into a fully-fledged rock band in everything but name. Three years ago, longtime tour teammates Mikey Freedom Hart, Evan Smith, Sean Hutchinson (the “Hutch!” affectionately shouted out on several tracks), Zem Audu, and Michael Riddleberger officially found a home under the Bleachers moniker.
Before I continue my Bleachers tirade, I must take a moment to mention the night’s opener, This is Lorelei. Led by Nate Amos (one-half of experimental duo Water From Your Eyes), the act kicked things off with some twang from recent release The Singer in my Band. Onstage, the performers let the music speak for itself and stayed elusively quiet between tracks—save for keyboardist Bailey Wollowitz’ anecdote during a tuning break about “a very nice woman in a tiger t-shirt” who may have cursed them at a gas station.
This is Lorelei really got into the groove with their third song, “Billy Came Back.” With a Dire Straits-esque riff rolling underneath, the tune showcases the project’s full- bodied sound and thoughtful lyricism. As Amos strummed the opening of “Hey Sarah Is It Gonna Rain Forever,” I realized a song hadn’t made me feel that way in a while. Amos and his touring trifecta are the four horsemen of a hometown you long to escape, bleeding through the static of your crank radio as you dream of leaving. They’re a postcard at a pool hall, beckoning you to stand up from that burgundy booth, follow the music, and head west. Wish you were here.
To the triumphant call of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way,” the headlining act finally took the stage. Bleachers launched into “sideways” as Antonoff scaled a multi-level mid-century recording studio setup. Every member of the band was firing on all cylinders, with tandem saxophonists on “Everybody Lost Somebody” and a choreographed step-and-spin routine during “we should talk.” Deep cut highlights from the night included once-unreleased ballad gone viral “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” and an acoustic version of the very first Bleachers tune, “I Wanna Get Better.”
As the vizier to nearly every pop princess in the kingdom (and Kendrick Lamar, apparently), Jack Antonoff is no stranger to making hits. Chart-toppers are his game, and he can crank out an earworm in record time, as demonstrated by his work with the likes of Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Lorde, Lana del Rey, St. Vincent...need I go on? Yet, in a stark departure from Antonoff’s producer projects, Bleachers has very little interest in winning over the popular kids.
Through an online letter to fans, the singer mused that Bleachers was a band “for anyone, not everyone.” The fandom offers an open door to those with an ear to hear—except the likes of streaming moguls, transphobes, and ticket scalpers, as listed on everyone for ten minutes’s “dirty wedding dress.” The anthem nails Antonoff’s yearning to return to the close-knit, small-scale camaraderie of raging bands and die-hard fans, particularly capturing the frustration surrounding his highly-papped hometown wedding (to now-ex Margaret Qualley). “Now only my people can see me / only my people come in,” he sings. “Everybody outside talkin’ like they know / but no, they don’t know.”
I’ve already alluded to it, but it’s impossible to have the Bleachers conversation without addressing the elephant in the room: Bruce Springsteen. Antonoff is New Jersey’s finest New Yorker (as he labels himself on the energetic “Modern Girl”) and has understandably been inspired by The Boss in his production and performance styles. Critics have used this influence as a reductive label, but Bleachers is far from just E-Street wannabes. They are the embodiment of that robust Garden State spirit, championing heartfelt art and working-class heroes. Bruce has even offered his co-sign to the band and featured on their song “Chinatown,” which was easily one of the most memorable tracks of the evening.
What’s more, everyone for ten minutes merges all of Bleachers’ influences in such a profoundly cohesive manner. It’s the John Hughes nostalgia of hits like “Rollercoaster” (Antonoff introduced the track with the backstory behind its signature dreamy hum, affectionately dubbed “the Bleachers sound”) meshed with the big band stylings of Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night’s “Stop Making This Hurt.” Even in its infancy, the album already feels like a classic. Bleachers’ recent releases are time- capsules of 21st -century romance and politics, but they also maintain a certain timelessness—a great American rock band with a beating, wild heart.
A Polaroid of a performance, Bleachers knows how to deliver a killer live show. Despite their best efforts to rest comfortably in the welcoming exclusivity of just “Bleachers people,” Antonoff and co. are destined to mesmerize audiences far bigger than they could ever dream of.
