Sometimes, an artist’s star power is undeniable long before they even drop a debut album. Victoria Canal is living proof. With two Ivor Novello Awards under her belt, a Glastonbury performance alongside Coldplay, and a helicopter ride from Tom Cruise (yes, really), she’s been riding a wave of well-earned hype. And now, with Slowly, It Dawns, she proves she’s more than just a name—she’s a revelation. This Spanish-American singer-songwriter isn’t just talented; she’s magnetic. Her voice, both in tone and storytelling, is intimate yet powerful like a late-night confession whispered just for you.
Victoria Canal isn’t just some overnight sensation—she’s been perfecting her craft for years. A trained multi-instrumentalist with roots at Berklee College of Music and el Aula del Conservatori in Barcelona, she knows how to create songs that resonate. Slowly, It Dawns, co-produced with Eg White in LA and Kevin Farzad in London, is a testament to that artistry. These aren’t just pop songs; they’re lush, well-crafted pieces that balance soul-baring introspection with irresistible hooks. At just 26, she’s already mastered making music that lingers long after the final note fades.
Victoria Canal Borrows from an Earlier EP
Some of the tracks have been teased on earlier EPs, but they come together in a seamless, intoxicating journey here. The album captures the exhilarating highs and crushing uncertainties of a young artist navigating her path—one moment fearless, the next paralyzed by doubt. It starts with a confident strut before dipping into an emotional freefall, mirroring the rush and recklessness of early adulthood.
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The first half of Slowly, It Dawns is all heat and swagger. “June Baby” is a heady love-drunk anthem dripping in sun-kissed indie pop, co-written with The 1975’s Ross MacDonald. The way Canal teases, “I think I love you now… Don’t hurt my feelings/Unless you mean it,” is deliciously bold, giving off major Beabadoobee-esque vibes. Then there’s “California Sober,” a flirtatious, flamenco-tinged pop gem laced with a club-ready beat, oozing effortless cool. If this is what being young and reckless sounds like, sign us up.
Then, things get deeper and darker. “Cake” is where she turns up the heat differently—her voice slipping into a hushed, seductive murmur layered over eerie, distorted synths. There’s a Billie Eilish-esque edge to the way she delivers the line, “Fuck the cake/Let’s go straight to the vodka,” like she’s daring you to follow her into the night.
But Slowly, It Dawns isn’t just about bravado; it’s about vulnerability, too. The second half pulls back the curtain on Canal’s insecurities, and it’s devastatingly beautiful. On “15%,” she flips between self-doubt and self-love with heartbreaking honesty: “Guy from the subway is staring at me/Now I can’t stop speculating/Have I got celery stuck in my teeth/Or do I look fucking amazing?” The delicate piano and sweeping strings make it feel like a cinematic moment of quiet self-reflection.
She leans even further into her anxieties on “How Can I Be a Person?”—a raw, stripped-down track where she wrestles with the constant, crushing weight of comparison. “How can I exist when she’s right there in front of me?” she wonders over gentle acoustic guitar, her voice cracking with the kind of vulnerability that makes you want to reach through the speakers and hug her. Then, there’s the heartbreakingly relatable “Totally Fucking Fine,” a piano ballad that drips with loneliness. When she sighs, “Nobody’s picking up/Nobody’s home/Nobody cares I exist anymore,” you feel it in your bones.
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“Vauxhall” finds her questioning everything—fame, ambition, her own dreams—before coming to a bittersweet conclusion: “I wish it were that easy, trading in my dreams for peace of mind.” And when she and Rett Madison wail, “I wish I had a choiiiiiiiice!” in a soaring climax, it’s an exquisite gut punch.
The album’s final moments are its most haunting. “Black Swan,” lifted from her Well Well EP, channels Elliott Smith’s signature melancholy, its grandiose piano underscoring her relentless perfectionism. “Wherever I am, it’s not where I should be,” she sings, a sentiment that echoes long after the track ends. The closer, “Swan Song,” is an achingly tender farewell, a quiet exhale of acceptance. “Who knows how long we got?/As long as I’m breathing, I/Know it’s not too late to love,” she murmurs, leaving listeners wrapped in a gentle, reflective glow.
With Slowly, It Dawns, Victoria Canal cements herself as one of the most compelling voices of her generation. This isn’t just an album—a confession, a diary entry, a soul-baring masterpiece. She’s bold, she’s bruised, she’s brilliant, and she’s just getting started.
