Nostalgia is often a vessel for forward-thinking ideas. As a culture, we would not look to the past unless it informed the present. That being said, nostalgia for its own sake is also a worthwhile enterprise; there is no harm in seeking out a comfort mechanism if you need one.
Such is the ethos of Bleachers, the solo project of producer Jack Antonoff. Currently pop’s most in-demand collaborator, Antonoff has crafted hits for Taylor Swift, Lorde, Lana Del Rey, and Sabrina Carpenter. Most notably, on Del Rey’s Ocean Blvd, he displays an ability to build arrangements around the lyrics of a prolific pop star. Alternatively, his contributions to Carpenter’s Man’s Best Friend show a knack for transforming wisecracks into earworms.
As Bleachers, Antonoff blends 1980s synths and Bruce Springsteen-inspired instrumentation with shout-along choruses, channeling a time when pop music was not so self-conscious. While Antonoff’s work as a producer converses with the zeitgeist, Bleachers is a universe unto itself, a tribute to the music of its creator’s childhood and the atmosphere in which he first heard it.
True to form, Bleachers‘ fifth album, everyone for ten minutes, does not pursue relevancy, but analyzes the experience of being an object of public fascination. Its title references an iPhone setting that allows users to share content with any other iPhone user within a small radius for ten minutes at a time, a symbol of the interconnectedness of modern life. Through this premise, Antonoff uses his own celebrity to illustrate the vices and virtues of internet culture.
In “upstairs at els”, Antonoff describes an impromptu party at New York’s Electric Lady Studios, where he has recorded music with famous peers. The song mentions Carly Rae Jepsen and Del Rey by name, alongside the studio’s employees, manager Jack Manning and sound engineer Laura Sisk. In spite of the media’s fetishization of fame, Antonoff argues that authenticity exists in privacy. When name-checking celebrities, he may, at worst, sound corny, but is too sincere to be clout-chasing.
In “we should talk”, Antonoff recounts another chapter of his personal and professional history by extending an olive branch to Nate Ruess, the former lead singer of the band Fun. With Antonoff as a guitarist, the band’s 2012 album Some Nights yielded several hits, but a follow-up never arrived, and hopes of one were squashed when Ruess released a solo album in 2015 to middling reviews. In “we should talk”, Antonoff says, “We shared a brain in 2012 / You changed it all and then burned it in a flash.” The song’s outro features the dial tone of Apple’s FaceTime, encapsulating estranged friends reconnecting in modern times.
Antonoff’s use of detail explains his success as a producer by proving his selection of sounds can enhance a narrator’s perspective. However, everyone for ten minutes lacks the stylistic inventiveness of previous Bleachers albums. In “Modern Girl”, from Antonoff’s fourth album under the moniker, he employs saxophones, a detail not necessarily indicative of the 1980s, but one that invokes its maximalist spirit. The overpowering synths of ten minutes display a similar loyalty to this nostalgic mission, but do not turn any new tricks.
The album redeems itself by making a new thematic proposition. In “dirty wedding dress”, Antonoff recalls the swarm of fans and paparazzi that gathered outside of his wedding to actress Margaret Qualley in 2023: “We got married in August / Had to board up the windows and shoot down the drones.” When asked about this moment in a 2026 Rolling Stone interview, Antonoff said, “I’m not a senator.” Such ambivalence is not characteristic of the earnest pop juggernaut, but reminds fans that culture-makers do not need diplomatic qualities to succeed.
On the cover of his fourth album as Bleachers, Antonoff stands beside a 1950s car wearing the era’s clothing, his hand raised in a neighborly wave. Overall, the sought-after collaborator’s solo work evokes the sentimentality of Norman Rockwell, but without the disillusionment of Lana Del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell!, an album Antonoff produced. Bleachers’ acknowledgement of its backwards-looking perspective allows for contemporary interpretations of its lyrics. Although he himself lacks cynicism, Antonoff would not prevent a listener from approaching his work with that attitude.
In “she’s from before”, the Bleachers frontperson describes a loss that ripples through generations, and expresses a longing for a peaceful life after a turbulent decade. In interviews, Antonoff is often asked about the tragic passing of his sister to brain cancer at age 18. “I want to end the mourning game,” he says on “she’s from before”, vowing to overcome his obsession with loss, perhaps amplified by public speculation about it. “Grief is not a cure,” he concludes.
In the bridge of “you and forever”, a blissful love song, Antonoff explodes into a paean of angst, declaring, “F*** everything that I’ve been told / ‘Cause I just saw the heavens open up.” The past provides escapism, but the promises of the future are the final puzzle piece needed to decipher the present. Everyone, for ten minutes, may lack the technical verve of previous Bleachers albums, but it proves its creator can observe today’s controversies without forgetting what came before.