Bleachers pick apart sadness, sorrow and rage to create something joyful at Kentish Town Forum, London

Heartfelt euphoria from bruised uncertainty. Words: Ali Shutler. Photos: Frances Beach.

For those on the outside, it's easy to dismiss Bleachers as a cute footnote in Jack Antonoff's world-renowned career as a producer. Over the past twelve years, though, the urgent rock'n'roll band has slowly built the sort of dedicated following that's taken them from a beloved underground act to a group capable of selling out Madison Square Garden in a matter of hours.

As Jack told Dork earlier this year, however, Bleachers still feel like a secret shared by thousands of people. There's comfort in that intimacy, which is reflected in the sort of music Bleachers make - big, bombastic, and delivered with plenty of heart. Earlier albums dealt with yearning, regret and pain as Jack desperately searched for slithers of hope, while their recent self-titled album is defiantly optimistic and wickedly funny.

Jack was raised on a diet of hometown hero Bruce Springsteen and cut his teeth in the emo punk scene of New Jersey. Those influences come spilling out as Bleachers hit the stage of London's Kentish Town Forum, looking to create a sense of home on foreign shores.

The show starts with Jack standing in the centre of the stage, gazing up at a flickering "Recording Studio In Use" sign with the rest of Bleachers surrounding him on all sides before they lean into the trembling 'I Am Right On Time' and the noisy 'Modern Girl'. The line "New Jersey's finest New Yorker/ Pop music hoarder" is delivered with a knowing grin while the "oooh"s see Jack transformed into an explosive frontman capable of uniting the room in bellowing excitement.

The rest of the show continues to crisscross between familiar and commanding as the band deliver high-energy, 80s-infused anthems with a touch of recklessness. 'Jesus Is Dead' shifts from tightly-wound uncertainty to chaotic party while Jack's dad Ricky takes to the stage for the hammering 'How Dare You Want More'.

'Chinatown' is about the magnetic energy that comes from a big city and what it's like to grow up in the outskirts, while 'Self-Respect' is a writhing song that wrestles with infamy, desire, social media, hate and human connection. All that unease and uncertainty is quickly turned into glorious catharsis, with the room hungry for a reason to celebrate.

There's also a fiercely playful energy to Bleachers' music that comes to life onstage. At one point, Jack gets the audience to crowdsurf a birthday cake from the stage to the sound desk via a sax-led rendition of 'Happy Birthday' while the bruised want of 'Big Life' is dedicated to a member of the crowd celebrating their 21st birthday. "Party hats on," he instructs before the fragile acoustic number.

"There's a lot of truth in the idea that there isn't much of a future," he continues a few songs later. "If you're making something, you have to imagine a future even if it's on Mars or for when the trees have taken back the planet. That's not a big statement," he continues, batting away a rumbling of cheers. "It's important to imagine a future, and that's the only thing I can think to say to someone turning 21 besides Happy Birthday."

Across the 23-song set, Bleachers pick apart sadness, sorrow and rage to create something joyful. The snarling power pop of 'Everybody Lost Somebody' unites the room in empathy and excitement, 'Rollercoaster' is a giddy festival anthem about shutting out regret, while 'I Wanna Get Better' is ferociously vulnerable and encourages the same from the audience.

"The only thing that everyone in the world agrees on is how grotesquely bored we all are of what they've done to us," says Jack before the twinkling 'Foreign Girls'. "Don't take this the wrong way because I mean it with hope and love, not 'I'm going to kill myself' energy, but being with each other is literally all we have."

There's a tight-knit sense of community to Bleachers, but rather than simply protecting what they've built, everyone involved wants to make it as big as possible. Despite being a straight-up rock'n'roll show, the From The Studio To The Stage tour is a beautifully ambitious set of gigs, and the whole thing is delivered with an urgent need for togetherness.

"The bigger the shows get, the more it makes sense," Jack told Dork recently. "The more people that are in on [that secret], the more powerful that is."