Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and over-accessorized.

For several weeks prior to this year’s SXSW fest (I was on assignment), I kept my radio tuned to Sirius satellite station XMU. It’s the Pitchfork of the airwaves, a soul-crushing compendium of the most inert and listless music I’ve listened to since the last time I visited a dentist’s office. XMU is to music what Prozac is to mood swings - it levels everything out in such a way that there are no highs or lows, just a steady drone of zombied-out vocals mewling over testosterone-free guitar strumming, Lancelot Link-like drumming, and the blurts, pings and sweeping crescendos of freshly un-boxed synthesizers radiating the audio equivalent of the new car smell. Other than people like me doing research, who listens to this shit? If radios could vomit, mine would have spewed a Technicolor yawn all over my lap.

Having said that, I did discover a few bands that compelled me to check them out at SXSW. One was Grimes, a 24 year-old multi-instrumentalist from Montreal, that I found enchanting, ethereal and a wonderful songwriter. She reminds me a bit of The Cocteau Twins, Kate Bush, Fever Ray lite and Young Marble Giants in a good mood.

Here’s a lovely clip of Boucher performing on the Jools Holland show. She’s become the darling of the hipster press and sometimes those bearded mouth-breathers get it right.