TORONTO’S ‘BULLSHIT’ ARTISTS: MEAN GLOSS KEEPS IT REAL
Written by Raphael Tigno in coordination with Bryan Tigno, Benjo Gonzaga and Frazier De Mesa. Banner photo by Patrick Concepcion of Blue Moon Studios
“The concept became very loose,” reflects Jack Reddon of Mean Gloss, leaning forward thoughtfully. “It’s really cool because it allows us to be self-deprecating. We can say ‘we’re full of shit too.'”
We’re discussing Mean Gloss’s provocatively titled debut album “Bullshit,” and the Toronto duo—completed by Joe Narducci—isn’t mincing words about their place in the music industry ecosystem. In an era of carefully curated authenticity, their approach is refreshingly blunt.
A few nights earlier at their debut show, they witnessed firsthand the fruits of their labor at a packed Toronto venue, The Baby G. The crowd erupted during their lead single “The Next Train,” bodies pressed together as hundreds of voices joined in on the infectious “na na na” refrain. “I was shocked,” Jack admits later. “People were singing along. It was the first time that had ever happened—people actually knew the words!”
This moment of connection feels especially poignant for a song that, according to Jack, was deliberately crafted as an anthem but simultaneously questions the value of anthems themselves. “The Next Train” isn’t just their carrier single by accident—it’s the perfect distillation of what makes Mean Gloss so compelling.
“First of all, it’s just like a banger,” Jack explains matter-of-factly when asked why they chose it to lead the album. “It just sounds great, and everyone seems to love it.” But there’s more to it than just commercial appeal. “It really captures the concept of the album. It really ties into the concept of the album very well.”
The song emerged from a specific creative objective. “We tried to make an anthem,” Jack continues. “That was the whole point of the song—let’s make a song that people would sing along to, would shout out in an audience.”
Yet in classic Mean Gloss fashion, the execution came with a layer of self-awareness. “The lyrics that we came up with kind of reflect on what it is to make an anthem, and whether that’s valuable. So group identity and belonging to a group of people who are shouting out an anthem, is that a good thing? Or is that just bullshit? We don’t know.”
The single perfectly encapsulates their approach—create something immediately appealing while questioning the very nature of appeal itself.
The Mean Gloss origin story begins at high school in Toronto that continued to university in Kingston, Ontario. “We went to high school together, and we also went to university together,” Jack explains. “When we were there, in Kingston, there was a really vibrant music scene. We were both playing in different bands, but both recognized that each other were really sick musicians.”
The pandemic proved transformative. “Both of our bands kind of died out with COVID and with other things,” Jack continues. “When that happened, we kind of decided to get together and make our own project, just the two of us.”
Now based in Toronto, the duo has brought their distinctive sound to Canada’s most competitive music market, where they’ve found an audience receptive to their particular brand of musical honesty.
When pressed about influences, they cite the expected indie pantheon. “The Beatles, definitely,” Joe offers immediately.
“Elliott Smith,” adds Jack.
“The Strokes, Oasis, Beach Boys,” they volley back and forth.
“We really like the sixties and the nineties, early 2000s,” Jack summarizes.
Joe adds: “We like a lot of niche sixties songs, like one-hit wonders from the sixties. There’s too many to list, but we pull something from each of those.”
The Oasis comparison comes up frequently, something Jack addresses with a shrug: “Although we never set out to do that. My theory is that Oasis was influenced by The Beatles, and we were influenced by The Beatles, and we both just kind of came to similar conclusions.”
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The conceptual foundation for “Bullshit” emerged organically. “It was honestly one of the very first things that we decided when we started this project,” Jack reveals. “I had this one song called ‘Twinkle,’ which was basically just about bullshit online, on social media, and how there are these really loud voices who don’t necessarily know what they’re talking about, and they’re trying to influence you in certain ways.”
This initial frustration evolved into a liberating creative framework. “Over time, it evolved into something different. Now I feel that bullshit is a very loose concept, but it’s really cool because anything we do, we can just say, ‘Oh, it’s ironic. Oh, we’re full of shit. Oh, we’re selling out.’ We can do whatever we want to do, and it can be part of this concept.”
Joe nods enthusiastically: “It was freeing. It allowed us to do a lot of different things.”
Jack offers a concrete example: “We wanted to make a song that we could submit to Spotify playlists. So we were like, ‘Wait a second, this aligns with the concept so well, we’ll sell out. We’re full of shit, too.’ It’s supposed to be a little bit self-deprecating.”
Their approach to recording was equally uncompromising. Unlike many debut artists rushing to capitalize on momentum, Mean Gloss took the long road. “We finished the album before we even made a social media page,” Jack says with unmistakable pride. “It was a different approach.”
The turning point came when they secured their own studio space, freeing them from hourly rates and creative constraints. “That allowed us to take more time to do things, because we weren’t restricted by hiring someone else to be in their studio,” Joe explains. “We had our own space, took the time we needed to do it.”
“Did a million takes?” Jack interjects.
“Did a million takes on every song,” Joe confirms. “It allowed us to bring in our friends that play trumpet and trombone, record horns, and try a whole bunch of different instruments. Once we got our own studio space, it opened up a lot of different sounds for us, and the time to make those sounds, too.”
Their songwriting process reveals a healthy creative tension. “Usually I come up with the basis of the idea, which is usually like I’ve gotten so far, and I’m just stuck, and I can’t really get any further,” Jack explains. “And then Joe comes in and just criticizes all my ideas, tells me that it sounds like shit, and then we make something that sounds great after that.”
Joe offers his perspective: “Sometimes when you start writing a song yourself, you get caught up with the really most important part of the song—what it’s about, what the hook is, what the main harmony melody is—and that takes a lot of energy. Once you’ve got that original idea down, it’s really hard to then do the rest.”
His contribution often comes in the form of arrangement and texture. “I identify what the song needs—this instrument, or that, or this, or that—because Jack has already created the heart and soul of it, and it just needs a body.”
Jack sees value in their disagreements: “If you’re collaborating with someone, you don’t just want a mirror, someone who’s just going to give you a yes. You want someone who’s going to be like, ‘Actually, I think we should do it totally differently.’ So I think we disagree a lot, but in a good way.”
“I agree,” Joe quips.
“I disagree,” Jack shoots back with perfect timing.
This creative friction produced “Surrender, Too,” their most ambitious track—a sprawling composition that took nearly two years to complete. “I had the original idea for it when we first started making the album in September 2022, and I didn’t even finish writing it until the end of 2024,” Jack explains.
“Part of the reason it was so hard is that it was a really ambitious song. We thought, ‘Let’s make a song that keeps changing and keeps moving from one thing to the next.’ And also something that was summative of the whole album, something that tied together all the themes.”
Joe had a specific vision: “Joe had this idea that we should do a medley where we recall the music that’s already happened,” Jack continues. “So I played this piano part at the end where it goes through each song—from ‘Standing By’ into ‘Work,’ into all the songs from the album, but in a way that’s maybe not obvious.”
Joe, who describes himself as “always a fan of Jack’s music” before becoming his bandmate, pushed for this epic closer. “I was thinking, ‘Okay, you need your Bohemian Rhapsody—a six or seven-minute song where you lay it all out, no holds barred, as creative, as crazy as you want to be.'”
Beyond the conceptual framework, the album showcases their growing production skills. Joe points to “Beautiful Enough” as a highlight. “We put a lot of our favorite sixties elements into that song. At the two-minute, forty-second mark, there’s these Mellotron strings that come in. I’m super proud of that part. And also in that song, the electric guitar, the lead guitar.”
These elements represent not just their inspirations but their technical growth. “As this process has gone along, we’ve really upgraded what we can do and our equipment and what we know how to do—our preamps, our organs, and stuff like that,” Joe explains. “When we first started, we didn’t really know how to record electric guitar. But then when we recorded that electric guitar, we had gotten the right microphones and we knew how to place them.”
Despite the album’s irreverent title, there’s a sincere message Mean Gloss hopes listeners take away. “It sounds juvenile, but I think it’s an important message,” Jack insists. “People are easily influenced by people who are bullshitters, and I wanted to just make a statement about that—that you should be mindful of people who are trying to sell you something.”
Joe adds the musical perspective: “From a meaning perspective, that’s it. From a musical perspective, I feel like I can tell when I listen to music that a lot of time and effort has been put into it, and it’s not easy to do. We put a lot of time and effort into this album, and I think it shows. We put our blood, sweat, and tears into it. There’s not a lot of music that has that anymore. We just want to make music that does.”
As for the future, Mean Gloss is already looking beyond their influences. “It made me want to do music even more,” Jack says of completing the album. “It made me think, ‘Damn, we made that album, that’s fucking awesome. What can we do next?’ It really feels like we’re entering the golden age—our next album is going to be great.”
He has a specific direction in mind: “With this album, we decided to lean into our influences a lot—The Beatles, Oasis, whatever. But for the next album, we want to do something totally new—like 2030 music.”
Joe agrees: “Just knowing where we started and where we are now, it’s like, ‘Wow, if we keep working at this, where are we going to be next year this time?’ It gave us the confidence to just keep learning and growing. We’re inspired to make more.”
As our interview concludes, I ask where fans can find their music. “Everywhere,” Jack says. “On Spotify. If you listen on Spotify, that’s cool because we are trying to get algorithmic attention. We’re selling out,” he adds with a knowing smile. “But yeah, you can stream it anywhere.”
Direct, slightly awkward, yet ultimately confident—much like their music itself. In Toronto’s crowded indie scene, Mean Gloss has discovered a rare commodity: authenticity through acknowledged artifice. By calling bullshit on themselves and the entire system, they’ve paradoxically created something genuine.
And in “The Next Train,” they’ve delivered a banger that doesn’t just get stuck in your head—it makes you question why you want it there in the first place.
Mean Gloss’s debut album “Bullshit” is streaming everywhere now.
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