When Dork last spoke to Victoria Canal in the breezy early summer of 2024, she was searching for big answers to big questions. “I’m passionate about finding the meaning of life,” she said intriguingly. Eight months later, as she prepares to release her debut album ‘Slowly, It Dawns’, has she come closer to answering that elusive question?
“I don’t think I’m any closer, but I think part of the beauty is always being in the search,” she smiles. “My dad calls it being on the path to wisdom over the course of your life. I’m on my path.” It’s a path that prompts deep thinking and self-reflection for Victoria, but for now, simpler concerns prevail. She’s coming to the end of a long European tour and needs to decompress. “I’m in Berlin at the moment just recovering on an off day,” says Victoria. “It’s cloudy and freezing, so I’m literally watching New Girl all morning.” There you go – proof that you can be a considered thinker and enjoy feel-good comedy all at the same time.
In 2024, Victoria was very busy. From winning another Ivor Novello songwriting award to working with The 1975’s Ross Macdonald on a track to appearing at Glastonbury during Coldplay’s headline set, it’s been a major year for an artist who has long enthralled many.
Victoria first started making music a decade ago, and the Spanish-American multi-instrumentalist has journeyed from different continents to various creative inspirations and collaborators to the series of piano-led EPs that captured attention in the early 2020s. As her profile grew and co-signs became bigger – most notably Chris Martin from Coldplay, who championed Victoria’s work and introduced her to Parlophone – Victoria had to reckon with her dream becoming a reality. Yet, in the modern pop ecosystem, that reality isn’t always smooth. “I can’t remember who it was, but I was watching a video of either Shania Twain or Kylie, and they were like, the life of a pop singer is 10% glamourous and 90% gritty. I think what I’m realising is I need to understand that the really glamorous and exciting moments are awesome when they happen, and then the rest is a total hustle, and that’s ok,” she explains. “That’s what I signed up for, but there is so much that goes on behind the scenes that no one knows about. Things go wrong a lot. As you get bigger, the stakes only get higher, and more things are bound to go wrong, but what I’m learning is having the resilience to put up with things going wrong and knowing how to handle it is the skill. Every artist needs rhinoceros skin.”
“Every artist needs rhinoceros skin”
It’s an interesting period in Victoria’s life as her ambition is about to materialise. ‘Slowly, It Dawns’ doesn’t feel like an album released just because it’s the thing you do when you are an artist, perfectly timed to capitalise on maximum hype and excitement; instead, it feels like the perfect encapsulation of Victoria Canal’s complex psyche, released after years of self-reflection. “I feel deep in my twenties,” she explains. “An existential quarter-life crisis. I’m toggling in and out between enlightenment and total desperation for some sense of security or self-understanding. In a meta way, that is what ‘Slowly It Dawns’ explores.”
“I think your twenties are the most confusing time of life,” she continues. “You’re trying everything and figuring out what makes you, you. It’s like a new infancy, but you’re on your own in the world. You’re finding your people, going through what you think others want you to be, and then ditching that because it’s not authentic. I’m constantly asking, what do I want for myself? That’s one of the toughest questions to face because I’m so susceptible to outside opinion.”
The album is a pop record. Well, kind of. “The thesis of it is that Side A is pop, and then Side B is – well, I don’t know what it is,” laughs Victoria. “It’s a lot of vivid, first-time experiences. It feels like the culmination and documentation of my young adult life,” she explains about the wide-eyed coming-of-age songs on Side A. “‘June Baby’ and ‘Talk’ are first love experiences. ‘California Sober’ and ‘Cake’ are about sexual exploration, partying and nihilist abandon. ‘15%’ and ‘Vauxhall’ are about becoming self-aware of why I’m doing these things and what I want.”
These songs have a sonic quality distinct from the ornate piano balladry of her previous work. They’re breezy and joyous, fun and playful, illuminating and inspiring. A song like ‘June Baby’ is a life-affirming anthem, but for Victoria, who feels every emotion deeply, the challenge comes when she can’t tap into that blissful moment. “The most challenging thing has been assuming the personality of the girl who created the more unhinged songs like ‘Cake’ and ‘California Sober’,” she admits. “I was in a nihilist party phase, and I’m now far removed from those things because I’ve been working this year, so I feel more introverted and a mellow, sad gay. I’m deep in my Phoebe Bridgers wintertime bullshit,” she laughs.
The album’s structure lets bright pop songs amplify the dark introspection of side B. “The main thing is exploring the dynamism and multiplicity of my music. I don’t want to be boxed in,” says Victoria. “I would love to hone in further on the pop star meets bedroom singer-songwriter sad girl and live fully in both of those.”
The impetus to live fully in the moment came from the music she loved growing up. “When I think about the artists I listened to like Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Queen, Aerosmith, they were bands that were just so dramatic and emo, and I think I wanted to feel that sense of invincibility in the studio,” she says. “I like being in the studio and having no regard for the consequences of what I’m making because you never really know if you’re going to put out what you make. There are no rules. I think with that music it was, what can I make that’s just devoid of any opinion? I don’t really care if any artist thinks this is cool; I don’t care how many streams it gets or if it’s deep or not. I just want to make something that I love.”
“If you were to see the floor of the studio, you would just puke. It’s my favourite thing ever”
The studio environment while making the record was positive and creative. Part of that came from working with British songwriter and producer Eg White, who co-wrote two of the album’s biggest pop songs ‘Cake’ and ‘California Sober’. Eg has worked with Adele, Kylie and many pop icons. He also wrote Will Young’s ‘Leave Right Now’. A pop legend, truly.
“Eg White is a mad scientist and is just unhinged,” laughs Victoria. “He’s literally a genius. He’s one of those people who has a 20,000-dollar microphone just lying on the floor, and he throws around a violin; all the cables are mixed up. If you were to see the floor of the studio, you would just puke. It’s my favourite thing ever, though. We’re totally anti-society menaces when we make music. We also have such a love for classical music, so in songs like ‘Cake’ and ‘California Sober’, there are changes that are hidden by the production and the pop sensibility, but if you were to dissect the harmony, it’s actually classically influenced. That’s fun for me because it feels like smart music but doesn’t present that way.”
Smart music that doesn’t present that way. A perfect summation. Pop can manifest in multiple ways. There can be darkness and self-doubt, but there’s also playfulness and an appreciation for the inherent nonsense of pop that Victoria taps into in the first half of the album. It’s a cathartic release. “I do think it’s important to be light and goofy and fun. Sometimes I can be a little intense,” she reflects. “I grew up being really goofy and funny and excitable, though. One thing I’m trying to hold onto is that childlike spirit. As I get older, it’s really easy to sink into the heavy, but true wisdom is being able to treat everything pretty lightly.”
Wisdom is vital for Victoria, something she has gathered through her life moving from country to country and the experiences she has faced being born without her right forearm due to amniotic band syndrome. “Every experience informs who you are. Life presents many surprises and challenges, and I’m learning,” she says softly. “Frankly, people always called me an old soul growing up. I don’t know why, but I think mostly, if I were to pick it apart, I’ve always just thought about life. A lot of people don’t think about life until they’re older and made to confront it.
“I get that from my dad, who is like me but times 100 and thought so much about philosophy. He’s retired, but he worked in medical devices. He was a leader and spoke in front of a lot of people. I didn’t really know this until recently, but he gave a lot of motivational speeches for corporate events, and he’d spend a lot of time mentoring people. This is something that he didn’t tell me until recently. It makes so much sense that I’m my father’s daughter because he has motivated people and helped people find themselves for a living.
“Our relationship has always been very mentor-y. He’s the person I call when I need to zoom out and think of something in the bigger picture and what it means for my life. A lot of the jargon I use is a reflection of him and how he sees the world.”
“I’ve been hustling for a long time, this is the only dream I’ve ever had since I was four years old”
There are a few songs on the album that highlight the duality of moods and feelings at work. “‘15%’ is the centrepiece of the album because it describes that flip flop between god complex and goblin complex,” laughs Victoria, astutely pinpointing the vibes. ‘Vauxhall’ is a key song in illuminating Victoria’s driving artistic purpose. “‘Vauxhall’ is about when I was dating this guy last year, and he had this self-proclaimed shitty Vauxhall car,” she explains.
“I’ve been hustling for a long time, this is the only dream I’ve ever had since I was four years old, and I’m 26 now and still busting my ass trying to make my dream happen. In some ways, it is, and in some ways, it completely isn’t what I expected. There are moments when I think, screw this, I want to move to the suburbs, get a job and have kids and just forget my dreams. He was the person I fantasised about doing that with, getting a dog and leaving it all behind.
“The truth is, as close as I’ve come to leaving music when I’ve been feeling burned out, I always come back to it because I can’t help it. It’s who I am. Sometimes, I wish I had a choice; that’s what I say in the song, but I’m made for that. It’s my calling. Even when it feels like the worst thing in the world, I still don’t want to do anything else. The song is about how inevitable it is that I come back to my dreams.”
‘Totally Fucking Fine’ is a stark piano ballad that acts as a heartstopping moment in the middle of Side B. “It speaks to my ever-present tension between making noise and taking up space in the world versus surrendering and being witness to the beauty of the world,” says Victoria. “Do I want to be a creator or a witness? Can I be both? Where do I feel most at peace? Sometimes, I don’t want to be looked at, I don’t want to be perceived, I don’t want to be a performer. I just want to watch and listen and enjoy other people doing the thing. At the same time, though, when no one’s watching, who am I? What is my value without posting on social media and publishing my thoughts and feelings? Can I be a person of value in a cabin alone in the woods?”
‘Slowly, It Dawns’ is full of these questions bubbling up and floating in the ether. “Existential vertigo” as Victoria puts it on ‘Vauxhall’. The record reflects how these questions make up who Victoria is as a complex person. Nothing is contrived, and it’s natural in all its beauty and human flaws. “I followed my gut,” she says confidently. “I have these two sides to my personality. There’s this public-facing confident girl that, since I was a kid, people would perceive me a certain way. Then there’s the person who’s just behind closed doors and has more of a shadow and non-performance side, brooding and reflective and overthinking. I think there’s something really human and beautiful in that, too.
“My music is where I let a lot of that out. I think about Side A as my personality that other people see, and Side B is my soul, which is my more private self. I felt excited by the prospect of different fans claiming their side. I have a lot of fans who have been around for the last two EPs, which are much more of the singer-songwriter folky type, and I love sad music. The pop girlies can claim Side A, and the sad ones can have Side B,” she laughs.
The album concludes with two older songs in the traditional piano-led mode that made so many people fall in love with Victoria’s music – songs for the sad girlies. ‘Black Swan’ and ‘Swan Song’, taken from EPs released in 2022 and 2023, are included on the album for a specific reason. “‘Black Swan’ and ‘Swan Song’ are two of my favourite songs I’ve ever written,” says Victoria proudly. “I didn’t want to leave them behind. I really wanted to include them again on the journey and give them a second life. It’s such a clear and honest representation of how I feel at any given moment. ‘Black Swan’ is the shadow, and ‘Swan Song’ is the light. They exist together. I do struggle with perfectionism, depression, and anxiety. I’m a deeply spiritually curious person and really believe in beauty and lightness and self-acceptance and all that stuff. I’m fully both of those things all of the time. Those songs feel like tattoos on my body. I want to be with them for the rest of my life. Those two are my blood.”
“The pop girlies can claim Side A, and the sad ones can have Side B”
As someone who reflects on the world and culture around them, Victoria, like everyone else, has been struck by the rise of the new holy trinity of pop stars who made 2024 such an exciting year for music. While this thrills those who love pop music, great songs and character, for other artists making music during this time, it can be as daunting as it is inspiring.
“It’s been a really interesting year,” she reflects. “To me, culture always swings on a pendulum, and we went from having Phoebe Bridgers and Noah Kahan and a big sad girl year last year, and now the pendulum has swung over to cunty super confident Sabrina, Charli and Chappell, and it’s serving. That’s the vibe. I’m curious to see if, in 2025, we will stay in that realm or if it will swing back the other way.
“I try not to overthink where I sit in that because I have these different sides to me and comparison is already something I’m so prone to that I try to avoid it if I can. I don’t really want to think about myself in the context of pop too much because I get lost. It can be overwhelming, especially when there’s a new standard. There’s always a new standard. Everyone is like, this person is a great reference for this, but they just became popular this year. I’m thinking long term and not just trendy and I have to combat that every chance I get because I can fall culprit to that like every artist can. If you see something working, then you try to do that thing.”
Victoria Canal took risks with her music in 2024. She opened herself up to new sounds, freedoms and possibilities, both musically and spiritually. “I’m just curious to follow my gut and make the music that I want to make, informed by but also devoid of what’s going on in the culture,” concludes Victoria. With an album she has spent her life manifesting through hopes, dreams and fears, she’s ready to embrace the swirling confusion of life and how to live it in 2025, getting that precious bit closer to finding out just what it all means.
Taken from the February 2025 issue of Dork. Victoria Canal’s debut album ‘Slowly, It Dawns’ is out 17th January.
Styling: Francesca Russo
Styling Assistant: Alina Polifka
Make Up: Annelie Byström using Clé de Peau
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