{"id":242571,"date":"2025-10-15T20:20:46","date_gmt":"2025-10-15T19:20:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.musicbusinessworldwide.com\/?p=242571"},"modified":"2025-10-15T20:42:06","modified_gmt":"2025-10-15T19:42:06","slug":"key-songs-in-the-life-of-jack-antonoff","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.musicbusinessworldwide.com\/key-songs-in-the-life-of-jack-antonoff\/","title":{"rendered":"Key Songs In The Life Of… Jack Antonoff"},"content":{"rendered":"

MBW’s Key Songs In The Life Of<\/em>… is a series in which we ask influential music industry figures about the tracks that have defined their life and career so far. Here, multi-Grammy-winning songwriter and producer, Jack Antonoff, unveils his musical autobiography. The Key Songs<\/em><\/strong>…<\/em> series is supported by Sony Music Publishing<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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He’s been a defining influence on the sound of 2025, co-writing and producing most of Kendrick Lamar’s GNX<\/em> and Sabrina Carpenter’s Man’s Best Friend \u2013 <\/em>with his fingerprints on chart-topping smashes Luther and Manchild.<\/em><\/p>\n

But when MBW<\/em> catches up with Jack Antonoff<\/strong>, speaking from a studio in Portugal, it’s not to discuss the hits of today. It’s to talk about the music that made him who he is.<\/p>\n

Throughout our discussion of his Key Songs playlist, Antonoff<\/strong> repeatedly returns to themes of authenticity, restraint, and the mysterious alchemy of perfect production.<\/p>\n

He’s particularly animated when discussing AI’s limitations in creative fields, likening its ability\/inability to write a joke or a moving song to “asking a clown to come over and fix the electricity \u2013 two entirely different things”.<\/p>\n

“A great joke is in some ways very similar to a great song,” he continues. “Both play with everything happening in your past, present, and future<\/strong>, creating a visceral reaction, something you cannot control.<\/p>\n

“People can lie to themselves in politics, in society,<\/strong> about who they are and what they feel \u2013 they can put on all these different masks. But you can’t lie to yourself about music and comedy.<\/p>\n

“Comedy doesn’t just make you laugh; comedy reveals what you think is funny, whether you like it or not. It’s the same with music.<\/strong> It’s the great revealer of people’s hearts and souls.”<\/p>\n

“People can lie to themselves in politics, in society,<\/strong> about who they are and what they feel \u2013 they can put on all these different masks. But you can’t lie to yourself about music and comedy.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

These aren’t just abstract theories for Antonoff<\/strong>. His approach to production \u2013 whether working with pop superstars or indie darlings \u2013 is rooted in a deep respect for the listener.<\/p>\n

“There’s zero part of me that thinks ill of the public’s intelligence<\/strong> when it comes to music,” he tells MBW<\/em> of his approach in the studio, even when sculpting pop hits that stream in their billions.<\/p>\n

“I don’t see my work in pop music as being in any sort of service industry,” he adds. “I’m not trying to please. It’s about making something that feels incredible, honest, and worth putting out.”<\/p>\n

He’s equally thoughtful about the music industry’s snowballing obsession with artist visibility.<\/p>\n

Discussing Fiona Apple’s<\/strong> genius, he suggests that viewing her quiet public profile as an anomaly in modern music “speaks to how marketing-obsessed we’ve gotten. All that matters is your songs, the way you record them, and the way you perform them.”<\/p>\n

Here, in his own words, are the seven tracks that have shaped Jack Antonoff’s<\/strong> journey — from a middle-class childhood in New Jersey through teenage angst, devastating personal loss, and ultimately becoming one of music’s most sought-after hitmakers…<\/p>\n

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<\/a><\/i><\/a><\/figure>1) The Beatles, Happiness Is A Warm Gun (1968)<\/h6>\n

When I was young, my parents just played tons of music in the house. My dad is this brilliant ragtime guitar player who grew up in New Jersey and somehow ended up taking guitar lessons from Reverend Gary Davis.<\/p>\n

There was really eclectic music in the house, everything from ragtime to British music, music from every generation. Happiness Is A Warm Gun<\/em> is particularly significant because it’s the first production<\/em> memory I ever had: I hear everything, and I’m utterly fascinated as to why these choices were made.<\/p>\n

I’d always remembered hearing music, loving music, loving melodies and instruments, all these things about songs. But this was the first time thinking: ‘Holy shit, why is that voice coming from this speaker? Why is the time signature changing? Why does the guitar sound like it’s melting?’<\/p>\n

“The Beatles were just like a fact<\/em>. You didn’t fuck with it. It was a fact<\/em>.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Obviously, Happiness Is A Warm Gun<\/em> is one of the greatest productions ever, but all of that jumped out at me \u2013 partially because of its brilliance, partially because of its panning, partially because of its oddity in general.<\/p>\n

I’m probably nine at this time, becoming acquainted with the popular music of the era \u2013 Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, things like that.<\/p>\n

But in my house, The Beatles were just a fact<\/em>. You didn’t fuck with it. It was a fact<\/em>.<\/p>\n

My mother was a nurse who’d stopped working to raise us kids, and my father had a company that did carpet cleaning. It was a very normal, middle-class American existence.<\/p>\n

The way they raised me, there was everything, and then there was The Beatles.<\/p>\n

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<\/a><\/i><\/a><\/figure>2) NOFX, The Decline (1999)<\/h6>\n

I always loved NOFX growing up. But when they put out The Decline<\/em>… it’s basically like a rock opera. It’s 40 or so minutes, it’s one song and never stops.<\/p>\n

At that time, in mainstream culture, politics were [treated as] separate. So a lot of things I was learning about — global politics, race politics, veganism \u2013 came much more from underground music. I loved bands like Bad Brains and Propagandhi and things like that.<\/p>\n

The Decline<\/em> connected a lot of interests for me, because there was a theater to it. I still think it would make one of the greatest plays or musicals of all time. I studied it from beginning to end — the way they sewed it together.<\/p>\n

“The biggest takeaway from The Decline<\/em> is the intention for serious listening.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Listening to The Decline<\/em>, that’s my root of throwing rules out [in the studio], making really harsh changes this way and that way. I guess that started with Happiness Is A Warm Gun<\/em> too, but The Decline<\/em> is a very large-scale version of it.<\/p>\n

I guess the biggest takeaway from The Decline<\/em> is the intention for serious, serious<\/em> listening. It was almost decidedly fan-only.<\/p>\n

Its architecture makes it impossible to have a casual listen, and I think that’s a really important thing for artists.<\/p>\n

There’s zero part of me that thinks ill of the public’s intelligence when it comes to music. I don’t know where this narrative [of pop fans not listening as intently as fans of other genres] comes from, but I’m never interested in making anything immediate.<\/p>\n

Music and songwriting, recorded music, is a very precious thing and meant to be expressed only at the highest level \u2013 even the simplest song. I’ve never understood how anyone could [enter the studio with the intent] to dumb anything down.<\/p>\n

Music comes from the heart and the soul; I don’t know how<\/em> you would even begin to dumb that down. It would be like trying to dry out an ocean; it makes no sense to me.<\/p>\n

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