Recently, I heard someone speaking about the tonal shift in the current comedy scene. What was once charming, endearing, and left us feeling positive and hopeful, has degenerated into a wasteland of underlying tones and slow-zoom shots to miserably-lit facial expressions.
With so much focus placed on humanity’s weak points, I find myself longing for a reminder that this world and its people have the ability to grow, to change and to be inherently good.
It’s artists like Excuse Me who manage to cut through the “too cool for school” pandering malarkey of today’s music in a way that feels like taking a shower after a bad day.
Their sophomore LP The Light accomplishes what every artist should aim to do at a certain point in their career: push the envelope. This concept album, following the journey of a lead protagonist, makes me feel like I am aboard a tall ship, hearing the chants of sailors as we cross intergalactic seas, or speeding through a neon-lit desert in an 80s muscle car to escape the dystopian reign of an oil farmer. No matter what happens throughout the record, I feel safe, in the capable leadership of the band.
With members hailing from Owen Sound, Port Elgin, and other prominent southern Ontario towns, Excuse Me is made up of Dylan Creed, Aleks Liskauskis, Heyden Reay, Jo Seymour, and Adam Khurt.
Their consistent approach to song writing and live performance has earned them a strong and loyal foothold in the Canadian indie music scene. With obvious individual contributions from each member, the evolution of their signature, hope-forward, inventive, and insightful pop-rock has come to a head in this new effort.
Standout departure tracks like Fortunate One showcase an exploration of acoustic dynamics, held together by structural components and theoretical knowledge. The quiet trust in reserved vocal parts, group claps, and waves of slinky guitars offer a poignant expression of new beginnings. The song feels like a transition, where the hero is balancing inner-reflection and turmoil, while the vision of what they need to do becomes clear.
Fun is one of the greatest expressions of true joy that I’ve ever experienced in a song. Not the “throw up your hands” joy that forced its way onto every airwave in the 2010s, but the kind that presents itself after rectifying a painful situation. This is an unabashed celebration of life, and one of the first upbeat songs to ever bring me to tears. Key phrases like “I learned I only hurt myself when holding onto hate” are clear reflections of song writing that comes from those who are tapped into something bigger than themselves.
Excuse Me uses every tool at their disposal to honour free expression of creativity. Synths, drum machines, soaring Mars Volta-esque guitars, painfully catchy hooks, nods to 2010s production of that on Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible and Death Cab’s Plans, chanted mantras, poignant spoken word, and song evolution that, at times, follows the rules of rock opera: this album has it all. Oh, and yeah it funks. Pretty hard.
Good Love is a trip to a neon-lit 80s dancehall, where respect, admiration, patience, and healthy boundaries serve as a refreshing contrast to the surface-deep depictions of true love that I often hear.
This album delicately and subliminally maintains feelings of hope, positivity, and future success, while covering difficult themes. At times, it feels similar to repeating positive affirmations in the mirror before going out into the world.
This is a band who knows how to have a good time when the going gets tough and how to face adversity with strength. Excuse Me is able take you away from the perils of whatever it is that keeps you in the dark to remind you of the universal presence of The Light.
We have all been lost, excluded, hurt, or without hope at some point in our lives. If you are going through it, are looking for faith in humanity, or need a refresher about why it is important to be different: listen to Excuse Me’s The Light, now.
Written by Marshall Veroni
