Review: Ahead of ‘Art Angels,’ Grimes flirts with pop at the Mayan

Does Grimes want to be a pop star?

When this Canadian singer and producer emerged in 2012 with her breakout album, “Visions,” the answer seemed to be a definite maybe. Sure, the record displayed a knack for melody and structure that Grimes had only hinted at in her earlier, less widely distributed music. “Oblivion,” a darkly mesmerizing single about a sexual assault, even became a kind of underground hit, with nearly 20 million views on YouTube.

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But “Visions” still felt like the work of an artist unwilling to bend too far toward her audience; it proudly demands that you submit to its bleary synth tones and creepy robot voices before rewarding you with a catchy chorus.

Over the last three years, though, Grimes (born Claire Boucher) has taken what appear to be clear steps in the direction of the mainstream. She signed with Roc Nation, the talent-management firm founded by Jay Z, and began collaborating with professional songwriters, including Jack Antonoff, best known for his work with Taylor Swift.

She also moved to Los Angeles, where Grimes performed Monday night at the Mayan ahead of Friday’s release of her anticipated new album, “Art Angels.” The show was part of a month-long L.A. concert series sponsored by an energy-drink manufacturer, whose logo was prominently positioned above the stage.

Given that happy corporate alignment -- and the fizzy, insistent sound of the new album’s lead single, “Flesh Without Blood” -- Grimes seems poised to embrace a bigger idea of stardom with “Art Angels” -- not Swift’s sort of stardom, granted, but one with room for casual fans. And “Art Angels” may indeed court those listeners: Grimes’ label, 4AD, declined to make music available before its release Friday, so there’s little telling how much the record bends or leans (or softens or smooths).

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But to judge by Monday’s gig, Grimes has hardly resolved her ambivalence about pop.

Certainly, she was a more forceful stage presence than in the past, leaping between two banks of electronic equipment to sing at the front of the stage as two backup dancers gyrated on either side of her. Even with her right foot encased in a clunky removable cast, Grimes moved like someone eager to get a message across.

The same went for the pummeling beats she pulled from her instruments, particularly in a new song she called “Venus Fly,” which sounded geared to a festival tent many times larger than the Mayan. For “Phone Sex,” a collaboration with L.A.-based producer Blood, Grimes invited several adventurously dressed pals (including Blood) to the stage for a dance party that felt like a ragtag version of one of Swift’s so-called squad moments.

Yet for much of the night, Grimes’ vocals were almost impossible to hear over the furious rhythms, including during “Oblivion,” which she seemed almost to throw away. In the studio, she uses the airiness of her high-pitched singing as an intriguing contrast to the density of her arrangements, a juxtaposition that might be her most effective tool at a time when vocal-processing software has obliged even the smallest-voiced singers to create the illusion of power. Here, though, that tension never materialized.

Was that simply an accident of crummy acoustics? It’s possible: One of the stated goals of the night’s sponsor was putting on performances in spaces that don’t routinely host them (in some cases, perhaps, with good reason). Or maybe Grimes, who notably opted not to play “Flesh Without Blood,” was pulling back just as she approached the point of no return.

Follow me on Twitter @mikaelwood