everyone for ten minutes by Bleachers // Album Review

everyone for ten minutes proves that "Bleachers is for anyone, not everyone". This record sets forth into building out - and diving deeper into - the band's lore and mythology surrounding what Bleachers is, was, and becoming. It makes it clear that this album especially is made for the people who have connected with and truly understand the ethos of all their music represents and the community they have cultivated around it.

It feels like such a powerful reflection of the stage of Jack Antonoff's career he's in right now. With the mantra "Only my people can see me" sitting at the heart of the album, it becomes a commentary on the accessibility of artists in the age of social media and the necessity of managing that access by offering it only in short, controlled doses to the public. The dynamics of being perceived so publicly and widely by people who don't necessarily know anything about who you are or what your music stands for - but still want to create a spectacle for the sake of pointless online discourse - is largely what this album is pushing back against. Jack is a particularly unique example of an artist often caught in that position, and he has ironically become the focus of it yet again in the weeks following the release of everyone for ten minutes.

The title comes from the Apple AirDrop setting that allows users to open themselves up to anyone nearby to send or receive files, directly connecting to a tradition the band started on their last tour when fans could receive an audio file of a song recorded live that night, available for exactly ten minutes after the show. In the context of the band's fifth album, it becomes a metaphor for the tiny window of access and the brief moments of visibility they choose to open themselves up to in this music.

This record pushes back against the state of modern music and the industry's obsession with needing to be seen by everyone all the time; even when that visibility doesn't translate into actually being known or understood. So much of what passes now as authenticity in reality is often manufactured, performative and designed for consumption. everyone for ten minutes contrasts that constant push for a headline or pressure to buy whatever narrative the internet is selling that week - instead peeling back the layers for only the people that actually care about just the music. It's a sharp, raw look at what it means to be an artist in the modern age, especially an artist of Jack's stature, who ultimately just wants to make the music he wants to make and drown out the rest of the noise surrounding it. That has always been the mission of Bleachers and a focus so much of the band's music to this point - but this album is perhaps the most unabashedly direct way of pushing back against not wanting to feed into anyone else's expectations anymore. Again, "Bleachers is for anyone, not everyone".

So much of everyone for ten minutes feels built to be performed live, and the communal way it was recorded captures the distinct energy of their shows - something incredibly difficult to translate into studio recordings but these songs embody that feeling fully.

It also connects deeply to much of their 2024 self‑titled album, which represented a new chapter for the band in numerous ways. Sonically, it feels connected to that record, but it fleshes out many of the themes and ideas with more dynamism and clarity than parts of what that album evoked at the time. It continues to be a very important piece of Bleachers' discography, but one that ultimately now serves as a bridge to so much of what this new album is fully realizing. everyone for ten minutes feels like it's facing the past in terms of finding guidance from earlier experiences, but is also looking ahead simultaneously toward the future and whatever comes next. It's such a fresh sound that takes on a new mindset and path forward for what Bleachers is going to continue being.

The opening track on a Bleachers record is often the most important, standing as the introduction into the world the listener is about to step into with the rest of the music to follow. "sideways" sets the tone in a different way than the others previously have, largely standing entirely on its own in this album. It is shaped by a feeling of loving someone even in their most chaotic and reckless moments. This song is rooted in a very specific moment in time, especially through lyrics like, "You taught me how to run, then took me down with you, dragged me into your hallway and said, 'I love you sideways'". It feels closely linked sonically to "Chinatown", paired with grand instrumentals that evoke such a freeing, unguarded emotional response. The catharsis and emotion that shines through in this song is such a strong note to start on.

The first three songs of this record especially feel rooted in past experiences and in looking back on them through the lens of the time and growth he has gone through in the years since. "the van" is absolutely among the most self-referential songs Jack has ever written - it delves so deeply into his entire life and the journey he took to get to where he is today. "Here's the story of a kid and his shadow" he sings in the first verse. It begins with the origins of why he started making music, reaching all the way back to his time at "a Wawa in Philly in 2000" (two references I personally love) and digs into exactly why it's the East Coast in the music forever. The portrait of his life that he paints with "the van" is incredibly diaristic and specific.

This fabled van is something Jack has referenced many times over the years through his work (glory to the ones who know the van, truly!) - because it is truly where he began his music career, touring with the various bands he has been a part of through the years. He sang, "I was 16 in a van driving myself to Florida, part of me never left that seat" on "I Miss Those Days" back in 2017, which remains one of the most pertinent lines in Bleachers' discography for understanding where Jack is coming from with so much of his work that followed, and the drive to keep making music all his life.

The phrase "He just didn't wanna be lonely" in the first verse shifts throughout the song - moving from the isolation of being a kid chasing a far off dream that he couldn't quite make sense of himself yet, into eventually finding a community of like‑minded people who connected with the music he was making with "We just didn't wanna be lonely". By the final verse, the story lands on the momentous day on the rooftop when he met his wife for the first time: "She said, 'I just don't wanna be lonely.'"

"the van" above all captures why Bleachers' music is so important, and why the pieces of themselves that people have found in these records through the years matter so deeply. Jack's music has always been personal, but "the van" feels like the definitive story of who he is and why he makes the music he makes.

"we should talk" follows as another look back through the deeply specific eras of Jack's life, tracing the people who were foundational in his life story, but have since lost touch with. He sings about the lost connections of friends, collaborators, and especially the past bandmates who were integral in shaping so many pivotal chapters of his life. He sings of the shared history and unspoken pact they made when they were young and the ways they are forever bound together by the music they made and the experiences they went through together that no one else would ever be able to fully understand.

"We shared a brain in 2012, before everybody had a hot take from hell," he sings in the second verse, fully painting the picture with the specific details that can be connected to more than one instance in his life. "Yes, you held my hand until I took it back, and then thе world turned on you, I don't forgive them for that, we should talk".

The third verse further deepens the emotions, "Blood brothers ready to take it all by storm, 'til I lost you to the downtown post-woke germs, but I really miss hanging on each other's words," he sings. It really captures the deep bond of what it means to make music with someone and share these formative experiences with someone like this, which is also similarly explored on "Blood Bros" by Hayley Williams in which she calls it "...a bond like no other" - while also acknowledging that sometimes that bond isn't always meant to be sustained forever, and instead becomes something best rooted in another place and time.

"I really miss hanging on each other's words" is such a beautiful line from this song, distilling the longing for the way things once were with someone who shares an understanding that only a few people in your life will ever truly have. "we should talk" has a synthy 80's pop sound that's so fun (literally) to listen to. As life goes on and people drift apart for a myriad of reasons, it is rooted in the desire to return to what once was - and what could be again. Honoring a version of yourself from a different moment in life becomes a recurring theme across everyone for ten minutes.

As much of their previous self titled record was largely rooted in sweet and sincere love songs for his wife, that deep connection also continues to shape much of the narrative at the heart of everyone for ten minutes as well. "you and forever" was the lead single for this album, which really picked up right where Bleachers left off two years ago. One of the best lyrics Jack has ever written is "I have never known my name until you spoke it from your chest", which is such a pure and heartfelt sentiment. It captures the ways in which he had these walls build around himself for so long, and how meaningful it was for someone to finally break through. The way he writes about her and the connection they share is so beautiful, especially in terms of how their love came to be and how it has shaped so much of the music he's created since.

"Fuck everything that I've been told, 'cause I just saw the heavens open up" is such a vivid and romantic line about their love at first sight meeting, much in the same way songs like "Margaret" and "Tiny Moves" capture the same impact of their life-changing encounter.

In an interview with BBC Radio 1, Jack said, "I always write love songs, and then they always end up being about how life is a little bit more tolerable because you love someone, you know, this is all the things that make my life impossible, and because of that, because I have you, I can deal with it."

Other songs like "she's from before", "dancing", and "i'm not joking" follow a similar notion, in that they are love songs at their core, but they also more largely tackle deeply personal topics surrounding the grief and pain he carries from his past - and how love allows him to live alongside all of it. The religious imagery that threads through the entire album feels especially pertinent on these tracks, surfacing in subtle but meaningful ways. They're also among the most sparse production‑wise, placing full emphasis on the lyrics and the emotional weight behind them.

"she's from before" particularly stands out as a moment of personal growth within his body of work. Lines like "Good grief, no, grief is not a cure," and "I want a son named for my hometown, I want to end the mourning game" are diaristic and beautiful explorations of his past, present, and future all at once. That latter lyric feels reminiscent of a line from Lana Del Rey's "Dance Till We Die": "Clementine's not just a fruit, it's my daughter's chosen name" - connected by the way both artists use lineage and legacy to articulate their desire for healing.

So much of this album builds into "dirty wedding dress", which is quintessentially Bleachers all the way and fully embodies what it means to only want to be seen by everyone for ten minutes, on his own terms with full autonomy over everything outside of that. With the main mantra of this album being the phrase "only my people can see me", Jack takes such a direct, bold stance on the pressures of onlookers and outside voices that need to be drowned out in order to live your life. It is very diaristic in terms of the storytelling, much like "the van", but this time "dirty wedding dress" focuses on his wedding and the massive spectacle it created in the small Jersey beach town where they held the ceremony.

In a newsletter alongside the song's release, Jack wrote, "I got married in the town I spent every summer in since I was born. Was the best day of my life. That simple. So we got married here, and outside the wedding got swarmed with herbs. Not Bleachers people, not even real fans of anyone who was at the wedding - just run‑of‑the‑mill weekender dipshits coming to stare at people." He continued, "And here's the crazy part - we barely noticed. That's the thing about closing doors. What happens on the other side doesn't really matter if the people you let in are the right ones."

He starts from the beginning, telling the story with a colorful, folky country style that stands out so much on this album. Lyrically, it's glimmered with humor, sarcasm, and edge in equal measure, while again being very self‑referential to his own story and past music. "The dirty wedding dress is a promise, I knew it that night at the shore and I knew it that night on the rooftop, I knew that she was from before," he sings in the first chorus. "So we got married that August and the neighbors all lost their minds, we had to board up all the windows and shoot out the drones, we took that sadness right from Saturday night". The defining anthem for this entire project follows, "Now only my people can see me, only my people come in, everybody outside talkin' like they know, but no, they don't know".

There is such powerful commentary happening throughout the entire song, with "dirty wedding dress" largely serving as a sharp critique of the toxic and vapid nature of social media and the entertainment industry as a whole. Each verse feels directed at a different group of people who are focused on the wrong things and aren't here for the appreciation of the art itself - not even just in regard to his own music or that of his collaborators, but in the way so many online conversations tend to veer toward negativity and hateful discourse every single day.

"I think my dirty wedding suit was a promise that I'll never let 'em take my soul," Jack sings in the final chorus. "So how can I talk to the ones counting streams? Or the ones who like to bully the dolls? Or the ones waitin' in line to get ripped off just to turn around and rip someone else off? Baby, aren't you sick of it all?"

In an interview with Apple Music, Jack added that "...the song is about a barrier between the people who know and love you - my friends, my family, my audience - and the others who are very transient and want a piece of your soul, but really shouldn't get it."

The emphasis on the meaning behind "only my people can see me" is further amplified on "take you out tonight". It's such a wild and eclectic song, doing so many things at once, but it pulls all of them off so effectively. It opens with a raw, almost spoken‑word message to anyone listening about the state he finds himself in at this point in his life: "Make the records I wanna make, fuck off and tell 'em anything, have one conversation with my people, just wanna tell you where I've been, fuck the world, fuck the gallery," he says. "Fuck anyone who hasn't been here, you're welcome in, but fuck anyone who hasn't been here".

"'Cause I went down to see the man and the man asked me for a picture, I asked a friend how he was doing, he showed me his monthly listeners," Jack sings in the second verse with such an innate sense of urgency, while also embedding lyrics that reference past songs in nearly every single line. "Oh, take the money and run, just be honest about your faith, don't make the kids pay for your loan and what you think you're made of, babe, I'm made of East Coast music, I'm made of ghosts from the past and I've been gone since I was fifteen, daring my soul to crash".

Again, everyone for ten minutes is Jack pushing back against any outside noise trying to get in the way of making the art he wants to make for the people who truly want to hear it. He has never played into algorithms or chart trends or anything like that, and this distinct "Don't Take The Money" ethos of what it means to fully be staying true to yourself, refusing to be a sellout, trusting that the people your art is meant for will find it - is the undercurrent of every single one of these songs. The rest of the outside opinions don't matter.

"i can't believe you're gone" is one of the most special moments on the record - it is truly such a beautiful, moving tribute to Jack's late sister, Sarah, who passed away at a young age, and to the way his family has carried that loss through every year that followed. The deeply poetic lyrics truly speak for themselves. The way he expresses the grief he's lived with has evolved over time, but it has always been a central pillar of what Bleachers is at its core, as he is continually trying to find a way to process that immense loss and learn how to live alongside it.

"So you retrace the steps and you dust the path for prints, there's a wasteland in you, is there something you've missed? These grand self-obsessions are a way of hitting snooze, the truth is too dark and there is too much to lose," he sings. "But inches of glory and the leaps of true faith, no, they don't come easy but they honor the ways, that another day over a moment or a year, bring me right back to the start with the same damn words I feared, I can't believe you're gone". Later in the song he admits, "And some days I'm too scared to even fucking begin, 'cause I can't believe you're gone".

This song is such a beautiful ode to Sarah in the pursuit of finding ways to carry on her memory, capturing the small moments and fragments of what she left behind, "...some clothing and wallpaper, a Burger King crown, sand bottles and essays outlive you, how wrong," and creating something that will live on forever in her honor, as so much Bleachers music sets out to do. It's such a gorgeous tribute, not just to her, but to his entire family and the ways they have learned to carry this loss together.

"Well, maybe we should all move back in as a family...and be real about that one true thing we're all missing," he sings in the final verse of the song. "And you know it's a leap, but sometimes you wanna say, that tonight's the night and we're gonna be okay, these hope-filled lies, these unearned traditions, if you repeat them enough, you can live with somebody who's missing".

The closing song is "upstairs at els", which is such a perfect way to end this incredible record. This song is truly what Bleachers is all about - celebrating the moments and places and people that make up the tapestry of your life, and the music that has soundtracked all of our days. It is written about Electric Lady Studios in New York City, where Jack famously records so much of his music at and is such an integral figure in expanding the legacy of the historic place in music history. It's told in such a slice-of-life style, singing about hanging out on the roof with a whole cast of characters (many of which you'll recognize in the Bleachers-verse) at a party - the spirit of the city and the magic of that studio permeates through all of the music he's made there over the years.

"Hot summer night at ELS, finish up a track and send the text, 'party on the roof, everybody get dressed,'" he sings in the first verse. The rest of the song moves into heading to Electric Lady, up to the roof, and all of the people he sees along the way: "Head to 8th and makе a left, up the stairs and out the dеck, there's Blu and there's Rex, there's Claud in a vest".

"When we tracked horns that sound like a fight, boss man, COVID show shit was wild, 'Hard Feelings' days into Gone Now nights," he sings - referencing the iconic moment Bruce Springsteen performed "Chinatown" with them on that roof and at Radio City the following year, and two of the greatest albums he has ever produced, Melodrama and Gone Now, being made in tandem.

Jack has worked on countless of my favorite albums over the years, he is truly my favorite pop music hoarder for so many reasons and it cannot be overstated how much his music has impacted my life. As someone who was upstairs at ELS myself, this song brings back so many amazing memories of that day, and of all the music made there that has soundtracked so much of my own life with all of the incredible artists he's worked with. It was the most incredible experience getting to be there five years ago, but even aside from being up on that roof, the impact Melodrama and Gone Now made on me in particular at such a formative time in my life, along with one of the greatest live concert moments I've ever witnessed in person - when they brought out Bruce Springsteen at Radio City - being mentioned back to back in this song just brings back the most amazing memories all around. I know I was lost, but I miss those days!

"Inside Jack and Carly Rae, Part of the band, Laura, Oli and Ray, track by track, soundtrack our days, shit, I met Zem on that roof," he sings in the second verse, referencing several of his closest collaborators and engineers who are a part of everything he makes: Jack Manning, Oli Jacobs, Laura Sisk, his sister Rachel, Bleachers saxophonist Zem Audu, and longtime collaborator Carly Rae Jepsen. The "Part of the Band" nod is also cleverly woven in, calling back to his work with The 1975 on Being Funny In A Foreign Language. It's so cool how he intertwines dozens of references and memories, threading iconic songs, people, and moments from across his career into one single track honoring Electric Lady and everything it represents.

That is such a special place with so much history, and to honor it in this way is such an apt way to close the album, as that space plays a crucial role in the creation of his music. It feels rooted not only in the history of the studio itself, but in the history he's made there with his friends. The last verse is Jack reminiscing on walking in the park with Lee Foster, his close friend and owner of Electric Lady. "Now I'm walking in the Sunday Park with Lee, says it's hard to believe," he sings, reflecting on their friendship. "Hell, he got married up on that roof, next to Lana's plaque and that's a little proof that you're not at it alone."

The repetition of "you're not at it alone" is such a beautiful way to end the album; a bright, hopeful note that feels like the answer he's been searching for all this time. While his past album closers landed on a myriad of introspective conclusions, they're often left somewhat open‑ended and still searching for an answer, like on Take the Sadness Out of Saturday Night, asking "What do I do with all this faith?" or on "The Waiter", wondering "When has the world ever seen you for what you give?" With "upstairs at els", the meaning of it all is found. everyone for ten minutes becomes the proof that what you've been searching for comes from the friendships and experiences that shape us and guide us through every chapter of our lives. Even if it doesn't feel like it in that moment, these are the times that will ultimately soundtrack all of our days.