In a world overstimulated by scrolls, swipes, and soundbites, JP Saxe is slowing it down, then splitting it in two. With Articulate Excuses, the first chapter of his forthcoming two-part album, the GRAMMY®-nominated singer-songwriter peels back the layers of identity, self-awareness, and emotional wreckage in a way that’s as unflinching as it is hilarious. Released via Arista Records on April 18, this collection is more than just a musical project—it’s a confession booth wrapped in sharp hooks and existential dread.
Anchored by the punchy, poignant lead single “SMARTPHONE MAKE ME DUMB,” Saxe’s latest work grapples with what he calls “the fuckery of the music industry” and the fragile tightrope between oversharing and artistry. “Consciousness is exhausting,” he admits, reflecting on the mental chaos that inspired the track. From calling out Big Tech’s war on our attention spans to poking at his own vices, Saxe doesn’t hide behind metaphors—he invites you into the mess.
Across eight introspective tracks, Articulate Excuses dissects emotional detachment, addiction, digital burnout, and the tangled nature of shame with Saxe’s signature blend of vulnerability and wit. Collaborating once again with Malay (Frank Ocean, Lorde), and drawing from his experiences touring across four continents, the album speaks directly from the artist’s raw nerve endings. “I’m just exploring the parts of myself that I feel some shame in,” he shares. “It’s far easier to make art out of the parts of ourselves that we love, but far more necessary—and artistically exciting—to make art out of the parts we’re ashamed of.”
What emerges is a songwriter at the height of his emotional literacy, unafraid to laugh through the tears—or cry through the punchlines. Whether you’re a longtime fan since “If the World Was Ending” or stepping into his world for the first time, Articulate Excuses isn’t here to comfort you. It’s here to confront you with yourself.
You’ve spent so much time touring across continents. What’s the one place that feels most like home, outside of home?
Latin America. Particularly Peru, Mexico, Colombia, and Argentina.
You mentioned that splitting the album was 90% creative and 10% practical. How did this decision impact your songwriting and production process?
Oh honestly, I’m mostly just navigating the fuckery of the music industry infrastructure more than anything else! I made a lot of music because I fucking love music, and I just want more people to hear the songs. It felt like more people would hear all of them if I spaced it out, like the last Harry Potter movie—although I hate using that as an example. You know, when you make a saga and shit feels too long… you don’t want people to sit through a three-hour movie. You want to split it up.
The album seems deeply introspective. Were there any specific moments in your life that directly influenced these songs?
All of the songs were directly influenced by moments in my life. I’ve yet to figure out how to write about things I haven’t experienced. I also don’t feel like I have any credibility to write about things I haven’t lived through.
You’ve always balanced vulnerability with humor in your lyrics. How does Articulate Excuses push this contrast further?
It’s certainly the most I’ve ever undercut my sincerity with humor, full stop. I think it’s both a defense mechanism and a creative choice. Shit doesn’t feel so intense if you can make a little joke about it. But also, sometimes if you’re laughing, you’re more susceptible to other emotions, like self-discovery and tears.
Can you describe the emotional journey that listeners will experience when they hear the album in full?
Oh, I have no idea. I hope they feel something. I don’t know what exactly I’d want them to feel. The more intense and personal, the better. But the nature of that intensity and personalness—is that a word? Personalness?—I can’t pretend to anticipate.
“SMARTPHONE MAKE ME DUMB” addresses modern distractions and existential dread. What inspired this track, and do you think technology is truly numbing our emotions?
I think they’re numbing our emotions on purpose. I think they’re trying to turn us into consumerist pawns who exist only to feed their advertising bottom line. I don’t think there’s any goodwill in the choices made by big tech companies commodifying our attention. They’re actively fighting against our ability to be independent, creative thinkers. So fuck them. But also, they make it slightly easier for me to hide from myself. So the worst part of me appreciates them, and the part of me that I’d like to spend the most time being would like them out of my brain.
In the song, you mention alcohol and social media as coping mechanisms. How do you personally navigate these influences in your own life?
Very poorly. I navigate them very poorly. I’m trying, as I often have in the past. I try to coerce myself into navigating things by putting them into my songs—because if they’re part of my art, maybe I’ll get better at handling them as a person.
You collaborated with Malay on “SAFE.” How did his production style influence the sound and direction of this track?
Malay is one of the best in the game. I’m always inspired by him. He pushes me not to rely on any particular genre, instrumentation, or sound, but instead on the foundations of what I want to do as a songwriter—which is getting to the bottom of shit that I feel as a person. He put so many more tools on the table, while also limiting the ones that feel most obvious. From that equation comes a personally and creatively expansive version of what that song could have been.
“LET A GINGER MAKE YOU CRY” has a playful yet intriguing title. What’s the story behind this song?
Well, I think it has two meanings. One, it’s what I would like people to do when listening to this album. And two, I think gingers just need an advocate for their fuckability. Gingers need their moment as the sex symbols of the world. I’m not pretending that’s my role, but I want people to consider us… haha. I don’t really know how to answer that one. I just think the era of gingers being kicked on South Park needs to evolve into the era of gingers being fuckable icons in everyone’s imagination.
Can you share any personal stories or experiences that led to writing “BADDIE WITH A VAPE ADDICTION”?
Well, it’s about a baddie with a vape addiction. It’s about my favorite girl in New York—the kind of person who makes you feel so present and so enthralled by the moment that it already feels nostalgic and romantic, even before it becomes a memory.
Looking back at A Grey Area, how do you feel you’ve evolved as an artist and songwriter with Articulate Excuses?
In A Grey Area, I was fighting for my ideas about love. In Articulate Excuses, I’m not necessarily trying to convince myself or anyone of anything. I’m just exploring the parts of myself that I feel some shame in. It’s far easier to make art out of the parts of ourselves we love and are proud of, but far more necessary—and, to me, artistically exciting—to make art out of the parts of ourselves we’re ashamed of.
Your music blends elements of pop, R&B, and soul. How do you approach genre experimentation in your creative process?
Honestly, I just want to fuck with it. Whatever I listen back to and feel the most excitement about is what I let the song be. I don’t think genre is as relevant as it was years ago. Artists have collectively understood that. I’m just looking for the sound to serve whatever the emotion of the lyric is. Sometimes that means fully produced-out electronic instrumentation, and sometimes that just means a guitar.
You’ve been nominated for a GRAMMY before. With Articulate Excuses, there’s a real possibility of winning. How do you think that recognition would validate—or challenge—your journey as an artist?
That’s very nice of you to say—so nice that I stumbled over the words. The GRAMMYs are irrelevant to me… until I’m nominated, in which case they’re very important and they’re my dream. I think they help us get paid more for corporate events—that’s a nice win. And they give me an extra title before my name. Right now, I’m Grammy-nominated JP Saxe. It’d be nice to be Grammy-winning JP Saxe. I say I don’t care about it as a defense mechanism against the fear of disappointment. But if the moment comes, it’ll matter deeply.
Many artists say they don’t create for awards, but winning a GRAMMY can undeniably change a career. Do you see it as a personal milestone, an industry validation, or something else entirely?
I feel like I may have answered that already. I think awards help tell people what to give a shit about. There’s a lot of art in the world, and sometimes we need direction. But also, some of my favorite movies have terrible Rotten Tomatoes scores. So if we only trust so-called “credible organizations,” we miss out on a lot of shit that could really mean something to us.
If you were to step on that stage and accept a GRAMMY, what would that moment represent for you—not just as a musician, but as a storyteller who has poured so much of himself into his music?
I appreciate how kind you’re being with these questions. I don’t know… I’d probably tell the people I love that I love them. I’d want to make them feel valued in a historical, documentable way. And I’d probably make a political statement—because why not? It’s important to stand on your values when you have the most exposure.
You’ve worked with artists like John Mayer, Camilo, and Lizzy McAlpine. What’s the most valuable lesson you’ve learned from these collaborations?
From John, I’ve learned that we never stop expanding as artists—and that love of the craft must come before everything else. He’s also taught me how to treat the people I work with. The way he looks out for his team is admirable, and because of it, he has incredible people around him who have been there for a long time.
From Camilo, I’ve learned that everything’s better when you’re doing it with people you love. I admire him deeply as an artist and value him even more as a brother. The way he reflects his culture, the way he explores, the way he puts enthusiasm and family before everything—I hope to find that in my own craft.
You’ve described your lyrics as a “highly detailed stream of consciousness.” How do you balance that rawness with crafting a polished song?
I don’t know if I want to create a polished song. Sincerity and integrity over polish and perfection.
You’ve toured extensively across multiple continents. How has that global experience shaped your perspective as a songwriter?
Honestly, my favourite takeaway from doing so many shows in so many places last year was how similar the people showing up to the shows were. If you have too many feelings—and then too many thoughts about those feelings—it doesn’t matter where you grew up. You probably have a lot in common with anyone feeling that way anywhere else in the world. That’s the connecting thread of my music.
You said, “Consciousness is exhausting.” How do you personally manage the weight of self-awareness and overthinking?
Oh, I don’t manage it. I feel quite overwhelmed by it at all times. But it’s also the thing that’s made my life beautiful. So I don’t know… maybe balance is overrated.
Your lyrics often touch on emotional vulnerability. Do you ever struggle with the balance between personal storytelling and protecting your privacy?
I think oversharing is just the professional hazard of being a songwriter. If you’re a hockey player, you risk concussion. If you’re a singer-songwriter, you risk people knowing slightly more about your life than is comfortable. But comfort is overrated too—at least in these settings.
If you had to describe Articulate Excuses in one sentence to someone who has never heard your music, what would you say?
I’m looking at the parts of myself that scare me, trying to speak as them, and eventually I will kill them—but if I don’t really know them, I can’t kill them.
Your breakout song, “If the World Was Ending,” resonated deeply with listeners. Do you feel pressure to replicate that level of connection with new music?
Yes and no. I’d love for my biggest song not to be behind me—that’s scary—but all I can control is that the music is sincere and something I love. “If the World Was Ending” was a sincere song that I loved. I didn’t write it to be a hit. I’m not going to chase anything; I’m just going to make myself love the music and hope as many people as possible share my taste.
What’s one message you hope fans take away from Articulate Excuses?
I hope they recognize parts of themselves and others in some of the darker elements of the songs—and then avoid them in other people. Like, if you meet a “LET A GINGER MAKE YOU CRY” type man, I hope you stay far the fuck away from him. And if you find parts of him inside yourself, I hope you outgrow them.
