For anyone who's felt too much and said too little—this album speaks the language.

JP Saxe doesn’t write love songs. He writes what happens after. The shame. The silence. The parts we think we’re the only ones feeling. Articulate Excuses is a tight, emotionally fraught collection of eight songs that dig deep, hit hard, and leave a mark.

It's vulnerable without asking for your pity. Romantic without being sweet. Reflective without ever offering a clean conclusion. If you're going through something—or recently went through something—this album doesn't just speak to you. It sits down next to you, places a hand on your shoulder, and quietly whispers, “Yeah, same.”

Don’t Leave Me Alone With My Thoughts

“Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts” - Smartphone Make Me Dumb

This is where it begins—and where it already aches. The opening track of Articulate Excuses isn’t loud. It doesn’t try to impress. It just cuts right through the noise and lands where your most tender fears live. That single repeated line is almost too real for those of us who’ve used our phones to drown out what’s happening inside. It’s haunting. And it’s beautiful.

I’m Sorry That I Want You But Don’t Choose You

“I'm sorry that I use you, sorry I confuse you,

I'm sorry that I only show up when I'm scared to lose you,

I'm sorry that I want you, but don't choose you,

‘I'm sorry’ don't mean what it used to." - I Wanna Move to Brooklyn

There’s a rise and fall in this track that mirrors the way anxiety pulses through a relationship on the edge. It’s deeply reflective and emotionally brutal. It doesn’t ask for forgiveness. It just lays the pain bare. This one lit my chest on fire—because I’ve been on both ends of those lines. This is the song that feels too close, and that’s exactly what makes it unforgettable.

I Wanna Make You Feel Safe—Whatever That Means

“I wanna make you feel safe,

Whatever that means,

Am I strong enough to let you feel free?

If you wanna stay,

If you need to leave,

I'm still learning what it means.” - Safe

This song is quiet, but it carries the weight of a hundred unspoken fears. The melody moves gently, but the words press hard. There’s something so real in trying to love someone right when you don’t even know what that means anymore. It’s not about grand gestures—it’s about sitting with uncertainty, and still showing up.

A Baddie With A Vibe I Can’t Feel

About "A Baddie With a Vape Addiction"

This is the album’s curveball. It's sensual. Quirky. But it doesn’t carry the emotional weight that defines the rest of the project. The tapping tempo feels out of sync with the rest of the record, and it didn’t land for me. It’s fine—but in an album that otherwise guts you, this one just grazes the surface.

I Make A Fist, Trying To Reach For A Hand

“It's killing us, it's killing me,

In some cases, literally, literally.

I wanna crumble into someone

I wish I knew how I could loosen my grip,

But I make a fist, trying to reach for a hand." - Soft Ass Bitch

This is the kind of song that makes you stop what you're doing and just feel. There's an honesty here that’s not trying to be poetic—it just is. Raw. Real. Visceral. It’s the sound of someone admitting they’re losing their grip while desperately trying to hold on. This one grabbed me. Hard.

You’re Gonna Be Okay Anyway

“Whether or not you want it,

Your whole life's gonna change,

I'd be lying saying,

Everything will be okay,

You're gonna be okay anyway.” - Okay Anyway

This one feels like it was written for right now. For the middle of the change. For the grief of letting go. It doesn’t offer false comfort—it offers real hope. And sometimes, that’s the only thing that feels honest. This song swirls through pain, heartbreak, and healing, and it doesn’t rush the process. It sits with it. And it sits with you.

Here’s My Full Attention—Have It Inconsistently

“Is it too soon to say I wish you were beside me?

I want that space in the back of your mind,

I wanna temporarily do everything right.

Here's my full attention, have it inconsistently,

Hear you out with that manipulative sympathy." - Let a Ginger Make You Cry

This track lives in the push-pull. It’s messy, romantic, self-aware, and a little manipulative—all at once. It’s not the strongest on the album, but there’s something painfully honest in the way it admits: I want to be better, but I don’t know how to be consistent. It's the emotional equivalent of a half-truth said with good intentions.

It Could’ve Ended Stronger

The final track—an interlude from Saxe’s grandfather—feels oddly placed. It doesn’t offer closure, or elevate the themes we’ve been reckoning with. After everything that came before it, this one feels more like a whisper that trails off mid-sentence. It doesn’t ruin the album—but it does leave it feeling a little unfinished.

So What’s the Verdict?

Articulate Excuses is a beautifully devastating album. It doesn't try to be perfect—it just tries to be real. And it succeeds.

For those who feel too deeply, love too messily, and are still figuring themselves out—this is for you. It’s an emotional time capsule of shame, longing, grief, healing, and everything in between. It won’t fix your heartbreak. But it might help you sit with it.

Rating: 8/10 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Tracks You’ll Keep Repeating:

“Smartphone Make Me Dumb”
“I Wanna Move to Brooklyn”
“Safe”
“Soft Ass Bitch”
“Okay Anyways”

Tracks You Might Skip:

“Grandpa’s Interlude”
“Baddie With a Vape Addiction”

This album doesn’t just tell a story—it feels like one. And that story might be yours, too.

JP Saxe’s "Articulate Excuses" Hurts in All the Places