At the end of November 2011, Grimes is poised between two records and two versions of electronic pop. “Vanessa,” released on the split EP Darkbloom, has spent the year turning Claire Boucher’s hazy Montreal project into something more immediately recognizable. “Oblivion,” unveiled in October as part of the forthcoming Visions, goes further: its melody is brighter, its beat more forceful and its structure more compact.
Heard together, the songs document change without suggesting a clean break. The high, layered voice, synthetic textures and hypnotic repetition remain. What shifts is their balance. “Vanessa” draws the listener inward over more than five minutes; “Oblivion” makes its case in a little over four. One creates a private room and lets the rhythm gather inside it. The other carries that private language toward a larger pop audience.
The world around “Vanessa”
“Vanessa” appears second on Grimes’ five-track half of Darkbloom, following “Orphia” and preceding “Crystal Ball,” “Urban Twilight” and “Hedra.” The other side belongs to fellow Montreal electronic musician d’Eon. Arbutus Records’ release page describes Grimes’ contribution as a meeting point between the darker energy of Halfaxa and the more shimmering dream-pop character of Geidi Primes. The label’s track list also gives “Vanessa” a duration of 5:24, enough time for its recurring phrases to become an environment rather than a conventional verse-and-chorus argument.
The split format supplies useful context. d’Eon’s side is described by Arbutus in terms of R&B, footwork, new jack swing, drum and bass, and trip-hop influences. Grimes’ half is less concerned with announcing its references. Her songs turn loops, percussion and multitracked vocals into something dreamlike but physically insistent. The two approaches do not have to merge for the shared record to work as a snapshot of Montreal musicians using inexpensive electronic means to pursue unusually expansive ideas.
That impression was already evident in contemporary criticism. In its May review of Darkbloom, Pitchfork situated the EP after Boucher’s two 2010 albums, Geidi Primes and Halfaxa, and heard a new clarity in “Vanessa” and “Crystal Ball”: stronger beats, clearer vocals and a more coherent union of her pop and atmospheric instincts. The review treated “Vanessa” as the release’s standout, but the important development is broader than one song. The Grimes side sounds less like a collection of experiments and more like a musical vocabulary being deliberately organized.
“Vanessa” remains elusive even as it becomes more accessible. The percussion has a steady, contained pressure, while Boucher’s voice moves between the foreground and the surrounding haze. Its repetitions do not resolve the song’s mystery; they make the mystery memorable. The track can function as dream pop, dance music or intimate headphone music without settling comfortably into any one category.
A video made from a scene, not a spectacle
The “Vanessa” video gives that music a social setting. The first-party Arbutus Records upload credits Grimes as director, John Londono as director of photography and Marilis Cardinal as stylist. Its dancers include Boucher, Emily Kai Bock, Jane Penny, Marilis Cardinal and several other collaborators. Contemporary reports described the directing credit somewhat differently: both The FADER and DMY identified Grimes and Londono together as directors. The safest account is therefore that Boucher led the video creatively, working closely with Londono on its images.
The clip does not attempt to convert the song into a literal story. Instead, faces, makeup, gestures and loosely choreographed dancing establish a handmade visual world. The FADER’s April 12 report emphasized the gathering-of-friends atmosphere and the performers’ smeared makeup. DMY followed on April 13, placing the video alongside d’Eon’s “Transparency” clip and connecting both songs to the imminent Darkbloom split.
That informality should not be mistaken for a lack of design. Makeup works alternately as decoration and mask. Bodies are arranged for the camera even when the movement feels spontaneous. Colour and framing turn a modest gathering into a self-contained pop image. The video’s appeal comes from the tension between those qualities: it feels close to the people who made it, yet it never pretends the camera is simply recording an ordinary afternoon.
This is also why “Vanessa” proved such an effective introduction to Grimes. The video supplies a face and a community without explaining away the music’s strangeness. Its scale is small, but the aesthetic is complete. Rather than imitate the expensive spectacle of mainstream pop, Boucher builds spectacle from styling, editing, repetition and friends willing to perform inside her imagined space.
“Oblivion” sharpens the outline
By October, the next phase was already public. A Pitchfork release notice dated October 14 announced Visions for January 31 through Arbutus Records. Its 13-song track list placed “Oblivion” third, after “Infinite ♡ Without Fulfillment (intro)” and “Genesis.” The sequence also named Doldrums and Majical Cloudz as guests on later tracks, anchoring the album in the same Montreal creative network surrounding the earlier releases.
Three days later, The FADER presented “Oblivion” as a new song, pairing it with Boucher’s remix of Washed Out’s “Eyes Be Closed.” That post also recalled her July opening set for Washed Out at New York’s Bowery Ballroom. According to the writer, much of the audience initially seemed unfamiliar with Grimes, but recognition rose when she began “Vanessa.” The observation is anecdotal, yet it captures how one song was already serving as a point of entry while the next one arrived.
“Oblivion” is more economical than “Vanessa,” but not less peculiar. A rounded synthesizer figure and firm electronic kick establish its motion immediately. Against that pulse, Boucher’s high vocal sounds both melodic and displaced, as if it belongs to a different acoustic space. The hook returns often enough to feel inevitable, while small changes in the surrounding layers keep the repetition from becoming static.
The difference is not simply that “Oblivion” is catchier. “Vanessa” has its own durable melodic pull. What the newer song adds is compression. Its component parts seem to arrive already aligned around forward motion: rhythm, bass figure, vocal refrain and brief instrumental details all reinforce the same circular drive. The production remains airy, but the song does not drift. Bright tones carry an undercurrent of unease, allowing pleasure and nervousness to occupy the same beat.
The track was circulating well beyond a single announcement by the end of the month. Gorilla vs. Bear’s October 2011 mix placed “Oblivion” second, immediately after Glass Candy and before then-new tracks by Charli XCX and Azealia Banks. That sequencing is not proof of a defined scene or genre, but it demonstrates how quickly the song entered the independent music-blog ecosystem that helped listeners discover new electronic pop.
Two songs, one developing language
The strongest connection between “Vanessa” and “Oblivion” is Boucher’s use of repetition as both structure and atmosphere. In “Vanessa,” recurring vocal and rhythmic material deepens the trance. In “Oblivion,” recurrence makes the song feel propulsive and instantly legible. The same technique performs different emotional work because the production around it has changed.
Both songs also complicate easy distinctions between intimacy and artifice. Boucher’s vocals can sound delicate, but they are multiplied, processed and arranged. The “Vanessa” video feels communal, but its colours, makeup and movements are carefully composed. “Oblivion” offers the immediacy of a pop hook while preserving an uncanny distance between the singer and the beat. Construction is not concealed in any of these works; it is part of their emotional force.
That makes late November 2011 a particularly revealing time to listen. Darkbloom has established the clarity and strange warmth of “Vanessa,” while Visions remains an announced record rather than a settled critical story. “Oblivion” suggests that Boucher can make her musical world more direct without making it ordinary. The two tracks do not show a finished transformation. They capture the more interesting moment when an artist’s private methods begin to acquire public momentum.