On the long-hyped Miss Anthropocene, the Canadian solo artist, supposed singing android, and Elon Musk-child bearer speaks to a planet under the threat of climate change. “I wanted to make climate change fun,” she told Crack Magazine. For 10 tracks she kind of does that. With plenty of lush sonic choices, there’s a mixing somewhere to satisfy fans of each Grimes era. “Before the Fever” simulates her cool-paletted beginnings while hard-hitter “Delete Forever’s” guitar flow translates from the self-reviled Art Angels’ stylistic outreach.
Claire Boucher has always had a knack for transporting listeners to worlds of imagination with her sound alone. Even without its fantasy/sci-fi visualizer, “So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth” is a gentle spacewalk for your ears. It’s an escape from the planet- one she knows is dying. However, its status as the intro is questionable. An ambient six minutes is an unusual way to begin an album holding flashier strikes like “4ÆM” and “My Name is Dark.” The former ingratiates itself in the controlled chaos that often takes form in Claire Boucher’s electro-pop catalog; we can envision the hyperactive star rollicking about in chair restraints on this track.
“She’ll always score bonus points for manning her own discography from the boards to the songwriting and cover art, and this LP is no different.“
And that’s what Miss Anthropocene does so well: as a Grimes album, it works wonders. The underground art-pop approach puts Boucher in her element. Club-ready beats on the futuristic “Violence” and the uneasy progression of “Darkseid” are delicate concoctions only Grimes herself could’ve made, in part because she did make them herself. She’ll always score bonus points for manning her own discography from the boards to the songwriting and cover art, and this LP is no different.
Unfortunately, the climate change theme fails to be as seismic as it could be, never going far enough to make statements on our environment. There are no rallying chants of hope, no anthems for Greta Thunberg’s next march, no epic rage-fueled rants to corporate titans murdering the Earth. It’s treated as merely a subplot throughout the album like an afterthought shoved in the background of a student film to make their work appear “politically relevant.” Sadly a missed opportunity coming from an artist who turned her own sexual assault nightmare into one of the greatest songs of the last decade.
Perhaps the core draw to Miss Anthropocene is the song-to-song consistency. The fatiguing back half of Visions and trifles like the abysmal Art Angels cut “Scream” find no parallel here, it’s by far Grimes’ easiest playthrough. Because the LP doesn’t go too far out of her comfort zone, it won’t win over longtime detractors, though. Her love-it-or-hate-it mumble singing doesn’t seem to be going anywhere for now, but those who have fallen under Grimes’ spell get what they want in Miss Anthropocene.
