Bleachers – Bleachers

Indie Pop

58%

 

I discovered Bleachers for the first time last summer, when I saw them headline Barn on the Farm festival. I wasn’t familiar with their music before that point, though I was certainly aware of their frontman Jack Antonoff’s production work. For better or worse he’s one of the most influential figures of modern pop music, having been a hands-on producer for acts like Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey and Lorde to name a few. Most times you hear his name mentioned these days however, is when people are complaining about how exhausted they are of his signature sound. The common consensus seems to be that every act he works with eventually collapses into the same formulaic singularity of safe, polished and reverb-heavy sad synthpop, ultimately stifling creative diversity across the board in the process.  

Going into their live set mostly blind, with only the production discourse to guide me, I was fully braced for a sedate evening of soporific synthpop. Imagine my surprise at being treated to one of the most electrifying live shows I’d ever seen. The band were overflowing with exuberance. Joyous and anthemic, with two drummers and duelling sax solos, they had the energy of the E Street Band after a few too many cans of Red Bull. The main man himself as the focal point of it all, with all the endearingly manic and hyperactive energy of Rick Moranis on SNL. It felt baffling that such an unbridled and animated performance could come from the same man being constantly berated for being too bland. While I certainly felt myself wondering why he couldn’t bring more of this raw and passionate zeal to the vast array of projects he produces, I was glad to know there was at least one outlet where Jack Antonoff would be inclined to let loose and bring the house down. 

Discovering Bleachers in such a revelatory fashion, building my hype for their next release, only for said release to be every bit as bland and lifeless as Antonoff’s fiercest detractors claim his work to be, has been one hell of a rug pull. A self titled album is a statement of intent, a record to tell the world “this is who were are, this is what we’re about” – hence why they’re often reserved for debuts as a way to hit the ground running. Calling the band’s most lacklustre album Bleachers just feels like admitting defeat. ‘Jesus Is Dead’ feels like a half-hearted attempt at a Strokes style rocker, while ‘Call Me After Midnight’ veers too far into 1975 pastiche for my liking. Mostly though, this album is full of instantly forgettable filler tracks. ‘We’re Gonna Know Each Other Forever’ and ‘The Waiter’ at least have the decency to fuck up in interesting ways, with odd strained post-hardcore vocals towards the end of the former and obnoxious vocoder effects throughout the latter. 

The album’s two lead singles gave me false hope that the album would have turned out differently, and as such remain pretty much its only saving grace. The sax driven party anthem ‘Modern Girl‘ injects some much needed fun and exuberance into the equation, and has really grown on me since first listen, especially in the wider context of the album. Meanwhile album highlight ‘Tiny Moves‘ simply oozes charm, swirling with all the bittersweet romanticism of a John Hughes movie. The one track whose melodies linger in my head long after the song has ended. Elsewhere the opening track ‘I Am Right On Time’ borrows tastefully from The National in how it fuses intricate electronic beats and soft guitar flourishes, and ‘Me Before You’ is home to the album’s most engaging synthscapes alongside expressive percussion, spacey sax and understated folky fingerpicking. 

Ultimately though, having seen Bleachers perform one of the most electrifying and life-affirming sets around, this mostly dull and forgettable record feels like the work of a different band entirely. Knowing what the band are truly capable of, I can’t begin to imagine how they lost their way so badly as to arrive at a sound so unimaginative, undercooked and underwhelming.