The Beaches, from left: Kylie Miller, Jordan Miller, Eliza Enman-McDaniel, Leandra Earl (Photo by Jess Focht)
The Beaches in Brooklyn
How the band went from playing empty rooms to selling out Music Hall of Williamsburg, with an assist from TikTok
It’s a cold and rainy Wednesday afternoon when the four women who comprise The Beaches show up to load in their gear ahead of the first of two sold-out nights at Music Hall of Williamsburg.
The weather, standing in stark contrast to the band’s sunny name, does little to bring down their mood, though, as they’ve just come from uptown for an iHeartRadio interview. We all promptly decamp to George & Jack’s Tap Room for a pint down the block.
“We actually got recognized on the subway,” says Jordan Miller, the quartet’s frontwoman. “I think that was a first.”
The connection and energy between the group is palpable, which is perhaps unsurprising given the fact that Jordan and guitarist Kylie Miller are sisters — and that they’ve all four been a band for 11 years now.
Not that they haven’t had their share of struggles.
“Like with a lot of bands, the pandemic was a very dark period for us,” says Jordan. “It was when we got dropped from our label. We fired our managers. We were independent so we were paying for everything ourselves. When you’re in a situation like that, the stakes are high. So we took the opportunity to ask ourselves what kind of music we wanted to make.”
That music includes tunes like their viral single “Blame Brett,” which was released on their second LP last fall and has since racked up more than 30 million streams on Spotify and over 10 million views on TikTok, peaking at No. 2 on Spotify’s U.S. Viral list and sending the band to the top of the music charts. As of last week, the song is Top 40 on U.S. pop radio.
The song’s opening line: “Done being the sad girl.”
“Rock music has always been so male-dominated,” Kylie says. “We’re really lucky that times are changing.”
The band — rounded out by Leandra Earl on guitar and keys, and Eliza Enman-McDaniel on drums — points to the recent success of boygenius and Olivia Rodrigo. “Young girls specifically are getting into rock music because that’s who they’re looking up to,” Kylie says.
‘Ready for this moment’
The Beaches formed in high school, where they were all students at Toronto’s Rosedale Heights School of the Arts and would gig around the Toronto indie circuit. They took their name from their hometown near Lake Ontario’s waterfront parks.
And although women-led rock bands are more popular now, that wasn’t the case back then.
“For a long time in our career, people would always be asking us: what’s it like to be in an all-girl band? It’s like, well, it’s like being in a band, but you are girls,” drummer Enman-McDaniel says. “But now the conversation is changing. People are less thrown off or weirded out when they see female-presenting people on stage. So it’s nice that it’s coming around, but there’s always more work.”
All this talk about the band being in a male-dominated field is underscored by the fact that we’re the only women in George & Jack’s. But the band seems right at home: They talk about how their first shows in the city were playing in empty rooms to a few older men — a far cry from the TikTok virality they’re enjoying these days.
“It is really interesting, after 11 years of developing our relationship as a band to finally blow up and see international success,” says Kylie. “We’re all really grateful that we have that groundwork built into our relationship because, so often, young artists put one song out and blow up — but they’ve never toured before, or even met their band. We’ve gone through all of the things you can go through as a group…”
“So we’re really ready for this moment,” Jordan interjects, finishing her sister’s sentence.
Enman-McDaniel explains that Earl has been their social media manager for years, but that they also have photographer and content creator Meg Moon on tour with them. “It’s a team effort,” she says.
“TikTok is so great because it’s such a democratizing tool that allows fans to see you as your authentic self—and also allows you to have a say in the kind of music you put out first,” Jordan says.
Pool balls clack in the back of the bar as the Miller sisters sip their lagers, Earl her Guinness, and Enman-McDaniel slowly nurses a Diet Coke. Clad in casual knits, camouflage, and Converse, they seamlessly blend in. In fact, Brooklyn is in their top fan base percentage, and the group is excited to see the crowd tonight. For the first time since they’ve been a band, they say, the crowds are looking more like them: young women in their 20s.
Just a few hours later, a woman in the frenzied front row will wave a sign that reads, “’Can you sign my jeans?’ And without hesitation, Earl will leap down into the audience, happy to oblige.
But back at the bar, as we get ready to head to soundcheck, an older man walks in the door and recognizes her from when they were bar-hopping the previous night. They give each other a high-five. I ask Earl if he knows that they’re a band who just sold out Music Hall of Williamsburg.
“Oh,” she says with a laugh. “He has zero idea.”
Not yet, anyway.