Oh how I wanted to hate this, being the cold, emotionless person I am, I couldn't quite bring myself to even spare five minutes to listen to it. I had read enough to know that I wouldn't like it, that it would be emotionally trite and shallow. The fake vintage feel of the video did little to settle what I'd assumed was one massive marketing ploy to shift action figures and lunch boxes and a movie / single tie-in. Then about two and half minutes into actually listening to the song I was crying into my speakers, and I couldn't care less about whether Lana Del Rey is an alien sent from the future to prop up some failing music industry fat cats because she's got a voice that could make a shiver run down the spine of the world.

Deptford Goth's first EP, coming out on the well respected electronic label around town that is Merok, is called Youth II. It has Real Love Fantasy on it, which we've featured on these pages before. New Track, No Man, starts like something The Beta Band would've produced, crunching together simple filtered vocal hooks a rumbling bass line and stabs of treated horns. Before it morphs, with it's clicking drum-beat into the kind of track that I think Kanye was aiming for on '808s and Heartbreak' but he never actually made because he's really self-centred and basically an arrogant, unlikeable man.

Deptford Goth though is the kind of beautiful reclusive bedroom genius implied by his moniker. So instead of the almost autotuned vocals reaching a cold emotionless plane they instead soar into 'oohs' and 'aahs' as those clicking drum-beats self-destruct and stumble around out of time like a drunk man full of love outside a pub at closing time.

Grimes is the alias of Canadian songwriter Claire Boucher, ostensibly a band, though in reality the product of one talent. Having released two albums and an EP in the last year and a half (her first recorded has just been re-released on No Pain In Pop) she's just announced that early 2012 will see the release of what she's calling 'my first album'.

This track certainly shows an incredible development, enough to justify the 'first album' tag, staggering too, in what was already a precocious talent. Oblivion is alive with an palette of interlocked melodies that to begin to deconstruct it feels unnecessary and clumsy, yet compulsive, like picking apart a machine to see how it works. From arpeggiating synths, to OMD style electronic drum claps and bubbling bass lines, to a series of gorgeous abstracted pitch shifting notes that hypnotically overlap the vocal runs. A trippy cut of lovelorn komische-pop.