A Mosaic of Grief and Change
It’s a cool evening on the patio of Le Billy, and murmurs ripple through the crowd as they await the band’s entrance. The audience is a mix of fans, some wearing their Hot Girls Listen to Museums merch, and some coming out to see the band for the first time. Having recently performed in the OSHEAGA festival, it’s clear that this band can draw a crowd. As seats become scarce, audience members pile onto the steps of the winding black staircase near the back.
Museums’ new album is called This Can’t Be It, and it’s an exploration of the space between a loss and a beginning. I anticipated their indie rock feel, with powerful guitars and drums over a contemplative vocal line. However, I wasn’t expecting the compelling story in the music. The band balances grief and hard edges with surprising pockets of hope. There’s a sense of forward momentum and energy, while maintaining the depth that keeps us listening. This Can’t Be It, outon Petit Village Records, has elements of art-rock, indie, and psychedelic pop, and it doesn’t fit neatly into a genre. Instead the songs mirror the neighborhoods in Montreal, each vibrant with their own personality, contributing something unique to the album, and becoming a part of the storyline.
As their first notes break over the patio, the crowd leans towards them. The melodies are a compelling mix of sharp and sweet. The album itselfteeters on the tipping point of an ending and a beginning, where one spills over and bleeds onto the next. Their presence is warm, inviting, and powerful. It reckons with the uncertainty of getting older, and the grief that comes with change. This Can’t Be It is a collection of experiences and emotions pieced together into a colourful mosaic. It’s only possible to see the whole picture only when you step back.
The first track on the album, “Dead Birthday”, opens with punchy guitars, adding a texture of drums and pulsing vocals on the verse. Ali Kouri sings simultaneously of a birthday and the death of a dog, weaving the two lines expertly together. It's a milestone stained by grief.
Next comes “Faded”, one of my favorite tracks on the album. Live, the vocals spill mesmerizingly out onto the stage, while the drums enter at the chorus. Nic Barkun plays with a driving and crisp energy, supporting the band’s momentum. Kouri sings “She’s my old dog, I make her run around, I’m in my old car, that I run into the ground.” It’s an attempt to hold onto something that’s already gone. It’s written in the aftermath.
“Trade” begins upbeat and shifts to a dense texture in the chorus. The lyrics create an immediacy of the present, rather than oscillating between a before and after. This song, when performed live, is incredibly effective, as the audience can really feel the band's energy and cohesive force.
The title track “This Can’t Be It” creates a sense of forward pull and the vocals enter with a new sense of urgency. It exists in limbo, cyclical vocals over a steady current of guitar and drums. The chorus “Picking me up and letting me fall, and picking me up and letting me fall down” brings the audience to the liminal space, right there with the band.
Next up is “Bends”, easily the most gentle song on the album, and surprisingly effective. It opens with a warm guitar sound, while the vocals float dreamlike overtop. The drums are felt, not heard. The muted toms function like a heartbeat, and this song gives the audience a respite from constant momentum. Performed live, this song is instantly captivating. The audience catches the band’s energy and holds it, everyone swaying slightly. There’s the slight rustle of people eating and drinking, but most stay transfixed on the stage. The ending gives way to a glimmer of hope.
The final song on the album “Miscommunication” has a darker sound that works well as a contrast to “Bends”. It plays with shifting colors and a more direct vocal quality, while the drums drive the band through the chorus. It is contemplative and impactful.
After performing at OSHEAGA this summer, the release of the album is another milestone for Museums as a band. It’s an effective, fully realized project in both sound and concept. Kouri’s vocals are an anchor point in the album, and the punchy guitars and drumming orbit effortlessly around the sound. Shifting through the non-linear track of loss and beginning, the album becomes a musical process of change and grief. This Can’t Be It is a must listen for anyone who’s experienced the uncertainty of what it means to be alive. And as for Museums, this is only the beginning.
