Ask any music lover, and they'll tell you about being in the car at night with the stereo on, wrapped in a loved one's safety blanket in the backseat behind the wheel, or with a friend watching the street lights pass by in front of you. He will tell you about the time he was there. To a soundtrack that often happens by chance. Power ballads complement the endless darkness on both sides of the road, and energetic pop inspires spontaneous group sing-alongs at top volume as the sun sets on the horizon. Drenched in blissful American nostalgia, Bleachers' sublime self-titled fourth studio album embodies everything from rolling vistas to the warmth of distant city lights, and at the same time the world I watch as it passes and hardens deeply in an instant. It's rare to find an album that captures an emotion so intensely and promotes universal recognition through something so intrinsically connected to a personal time and place. Please do not make any mistakes. These are Jack Antonoff's realities, with countless references to New Jersey, often playful interpretations of deeply personal situations. But it's an atmosphere that transcends the limits of his one singular life, and Jack's wry lyricism effortlessly invites everyone into the scene.
It's built on nostalgia for a time that never existed, with perfectly balanced '80s-inspired drum machines driving beats across 14 tracks that unapologetically cross generational lines. The magnificent “Ordinary Heaven” brings Bon Iver's ethereal, experimental sound back into the past, then instantly brings us back to the present, creating a break that's more like acid jazz than Bleachers' previous sound. Complete with down. The excited spoken word crescendos. It's a remarkable feat, contrasting the pure aural joy of “Tiny Moves” with the understated frivolity of “Self Respect.” The song captures the apparent abandonment of youth, while at the same time making you feel like anyone at any age can achieve it. “I'm tired of having self-respect,” he sings on “Let's do something we'll regret,” a call to defy the norm. Both Jack and his sound are free, open, and deeply relatable, a leap forward from 2021's densely introspective Saturday Night Without the Sadness. When they rear their heads, the moments of darkness exist as part of a broader storytelling that depicts life as an ever-changing journey, never tied to a single emotion or location. Just like a nostalgic night drive, the street lights are always on and show you something new around every corner. It's nothing short of amazing that Jack spends so much time collaborating with the best people in the industry and still leaves so much to himself.