Vanden Dool Dives Into the Sting of Rejection on EP 'I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me'

Vanden Dool doesn’t sugarcoat heartbreak. The Calgary-based synth-pop artist’s latest EP, I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me, is a cinematic, emotionally saturated project that pairs the aching honesty of rejection with the pulsating rhythms of electronica. It’s the kind of release that feels like crying in a club bathroom, moody, reflective, but somehow still electrifying.

Known for fusing melancholic lyricism with atmospheric synth textures and magnetic beats, Vanden Dool is carving out a unique lane in the Canadian indie-pop scene. His sound calls back to 80s new wave and modern alternative pop in equal parts, evoking comparisons to acts like M83 or CHVRCHES, except with a colder bite and a bit more personal ache.

At the heart of the new EP is a theme nearly everyone can relate to: the weird purgatory of wanting someone who doesn’t want you back. On I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me, Vanden Dool dissects this emotional limbo with surgical precision, using soundscapes as sharp as the subject matter.

The title alone is vulnerable, but the tracks push even deeper, tackling everything from the hesitation of reaching out to someone to the slow-burning realization that the connection you craved may have never really existed in the first place. There’s a strange comfort in how candid it all feels, like flipping through old text messages you never had the nerve to send.

The EP’s lead single, “Not What You Want,” stands out as an emotional high point. Built on glitchy synths, swelling layers, and Vanden Dool’s signature melancholic vocals, the track feels like a farewell letter dressed in neon. Lyrically, it confronts the brutal simplicity of rejection, no blame, no drama, just the quiet pain of not being it for someone.

What makes the song even more compelling is its open-ended message. Sure, it could be about a romantic situation, but it’s also a mirror to any form of rejection—professional, creative, or platonic. That universality is part of what gives I Don’t Know if You Can Love Me its emotional punch: it never tries to tell you how to feel, but it meets you exactly where you are.

Despite the weight of the themes, the EP isn’t a downer. In fact, Vanden Dool manages to make existential longing sound danceable. His ability to marry emotional honesty with sonic escapism creates a listening experience that’s both introspective and immersive. You’ll want to blast it through headphones on a late-night walk or let it loop in the background of your next solo drive.

At its core, this EP is for anyone who’s ever gotten ghosted, misread the signs, or poured their heart into a “what are we?” situation that never got an answer. As Vanden Dool puts it:

“I hope people find something to relate to in at least some of the lyrics. As most if not all people have experienced the sting of rejection or finding themselves in a less than ideal situation with someone at some point in their lives, I think they might find something to identify with.”

And in a world of surface-level hits and algorithm-chasing singles, that kind of raw, relatable storytelling is exactly what makes Vanden Dool an artist worth paying attention to.

You describe your EP as exploring different levels of unrequited love—was there one particular experience that sparked the concept?

There were actually several instances that inspired these songs. The opener, "I'm Not in Love with You," was about one particular experience with someone, but all the other tracks were a culmination of times I've had similar experiences with different people. The concept for the EP itself was a way for me to step back from the more ambitious pseudo-social commentary from my 2023 album Poverty and Pop Culture, while still retaining the tradition that 2020's The View from Here EP set centered the lyrics around related ideas. I find it makes overcoming writer's block easier when I have an idea for what an entire collection of songs is going to be about.

The lyrics on “Not What You Want” feel open to interpretation. Was that intentional?

I went into "Not What You Want" with the simple intent to write a song about how it feel when you have a very strong desire to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't feel that way about you. But once it was set for release, I realized the lyrics never once explicitly said it was about being romantically interested in someone, and because of that, it inadvertently could apply to anything involving rejection. In 2022 I released a single with Lethbridge-based artist Makiisma called "You Will Not Love Me Forever", which was about people finding my music and telling me they enjoyed it and then not following what came later or going to any more shows, but deliberately written in a way that made it sound like a doomed romantic relationship. This song feels like the opposite to me: it was meant as a song about a failed attempt at romance, but accidentally became something more open to interpretation. I could have written similar lyrics about not getting contacted for a job I applied for that I really wanted, or for the countless festival and showcase rejections I receive. So there was an intended meaning to the song, but I'm perfectly happy with people taking whatever meaning they think they can identify with.

Your sound blends melancholy with upbeat electronic energy—how do you balance that tension when producing a track?

I mostly try to look up to bands that have done it in the past. Rock 'n' roll in the 1960s had a bounty of songs that are easy to groove to but have heart-wrenchingly sad lyrics, for instance, so it's a tried and true tradition at this point. My favourite band and one of my main inspirations is the Scottish synth-pop band CHVRCHES, and they've spent the past decade perfecting the balance between melancholy and high energy; their songs don't always immediately sound sad, but once you take a look at the lyrics you realize how much pain went into writing them. Before them were bands like Joy Division and Depeche Mode, who combined deeply brooding lyrics with up-tempo musical arrangements that don't ignore the darkness to the lyrics but instead make you feel like sweating the darkness out in the club. I always try to have a track move in one of these directions, precisely because I know people have succeeded in doing it before, and it's the kind of music that excites me the most.

What’s something you learned about yourself through creating this project?

I think it mostly disturbed me with the amount of variety I was able to write on the topic of unrequited love, especially as this is far from the first time I've written about it. It felt like there was a frightening amount of loneliness that went into it. My main fear when writing the songs was that it would be misinterpreted as a product of incel culture, so I wanted to be very careful in how I worded things. I made a deliberate effort to make sure what I was writing wasn't out of bitterness or anger or blame toward the other party; it was just an expression of grief for outcomes I was sad about but couldn't control. I think this way it also becomes more relatable, because anyone of any gender or sexuality can experience that same kind of sorrow.

If a listener could only take away one feeling from this EP, what do you hope it would be?

If the listener also has had poor luck with love, I hope it makes them feel like they're not alone in that. It's especially hard to remember that when you watch friends and family finding themselves in a happy relationship, sometimes even getting married, and you're still left all alone not knowing how to fix what you're doing wrong or if there's even anything to fix; so I think it's important to have those reminders that other people are out there going through the same thing. If the listener is one of the friends or family finding love, I hope it inspires them to cherish what they found, because that kind of fulfilment is a wonderful thing that some people may never experience, and they've probably had the kinds of ordeals described in these songs before meeting that special someone. With the hardships inherent in a relationship, it's important for them to remember how lucky they are that they've still found companionship with someone who's equally happy to be with them.