I dunno, you’re the one shouting that chorus at me…
[Video]
[4.88]
John Pinto: Chris Gethard has a great bit on the Medieval Times in Lyndhurst, NJ and what it must be like to work there as a knight. Now understand: this is a job that SOME OF US (cough, cough) may have wanted after, say, a sixth grade field trip meant to conclude a World History unit on the Middle Ages. But Gethard punctures the heady grandeur of working in the arena (the battles! the fair maidens! that falcon!) with his observation that once you clock out, you go back to being a weird North Jersey metalhead. As the bit plays out, you start to imagine one such sad-sack driving aimlessly and catching a snippet of “Stop Making This Hurt” on the radio. For a brief moment, maybe this de-frocked red-and-yellow knight hears something not totally washed out by Antonoff’s Phil Spector-in-a-wind tunnel production. Maybe he accidentally unbuckles his seatbelt while reaching for a sword that is no longer there. Maybe he feels an inarticulable emptiness and makes a face like one of these guys. But maybe he doesn’t; the feeling is so faint, and the moment is so brief.
[5]
Oliver Maier: Surely I have not, in a haze of anti-Antonoff spite and malignance, simply imagined the fact that this song sounds like he is turning a big dial that says “Volume” on it and constantly looking back at the audience for approval like a contestant on the price is right. Maybe the bizarre mixing here is meant to capture a sense of ephemerality but it’s also intolerable, and kneecaps what is otherwise a pretty solid hook, the rare one where Jack’s voice sounds up to the task.
[3]
Dede Akolo: The nostalgia that ripples through The Bleachers and Rostam’s new release reveals what I imagine to be the vibes of New Jersey and New York City respectively. Whilst both of these musicians now live in Los Angeles presumably, they reek with the chutzpah of these places. Antonoff evokes this cornucopia of sound that reminds me of the sunrise coming up from behind a mountain. I would compare this to Rostam, but listen to that song on your own, we’re talking about Antonoff. My only complaint is that Antonoff doesn’t seem to know exactly where to place the vocal in the mix. Here is sounds too far back and shrouded by the horns. Otherwise, my opinion of whether or not you should listen to this song hangs on the question, how much earnestness can you take?
[7]
Nortey Dowuona: A loping piano under sharp, heavy drums and spinning bass with jangling guitars underneath Jack’s surprisingly strong croon, so close to crumbling but just about to leap away as the sax swings away and up the stars, Jack howling to the moon in joy, and facing away as the song slowly slips back down to the street, and Jack counts the dollars and smiles. There’s enough to take the PATH back to Newark.
[7]
Ian Mathers: Do you think he always seems to put his voice so far back in the mix because he knows he’s not a very compelling performer? Do you think he thinks having those “You Can Call Me Al” horns at the beginning works as an homage instead of just making a bunch of people want to listen to Paul Simon instead? Do you think one of the stans in the YouTube comments who calls him “the millennial Springsteen” has ever fucking heard a single Springsteen song except the guest spot the latter did on “Chinatown,” which is lacklustre in the same way this is?
[3]
Andrew Karpan: One of his most gentle and unpretentious piano riffs and one that made me realize that, at the center of all of Antonoff’s anthemic, lovelorn tales of suburban hurt is the same prodding question: what if Billy Joel was from New Jersey instead of Long Island?
[4]
Vikram Joseph: Sure, this would sound pretty great driving to the beach with the windows down, all rolling Graceland piano and horns and call-and-response choruses; Jack Antonoff is clearly hoping for groups of friends to shout “STOP MAKING THIS HURT!” in unison, and doubtless he’ll get his wish. But there’s something a bit watery about the production nonetheless, and the lyrics read like a messy patchwork of stock Americana tropes, like pieces from a dozen different jigsaws pressed awkwardly together. Antonoff treads a narrow tightrope with his unabashed sentimentality, and for it to really work we need to believe in his narrative, which just isn’t the case here — I mean, who are Ray, Daniel and Jimmy? Are they real? Do we care? The chorus has lodged itself in my brain, though.
[6]
Samson Savill de Jong: I just can’t get into this completely. The song is deliberately loose, but it doesn’t feel free and easy to me, just messy. The shouty chorus is meant to be anthemic, but I’m not entirely clear on what is meant to not hurt (a romantic breakup? Living in America?) and I don’t find the ambiguity interesting, just annoying. I’m left with a feeling that I’ve heard this song before, even though I can’t name a specific tune this reminds me of, but that it’s been done better.
[4]