Another member of the everlasting line of divine singer-songwriters from Scandinavia, alongside Elliphant, Naomi Pilgrim and Mapei (and seemingly infinite others), Farao - the alter-ego of London-based Norwegian chanteuse Kari Jahnsen - ignites the fuse on a keg of gunpowder emotions. Be very aware the offerings Jahnsen's flinging into the welkin are laser-guided, and trained on your delicate lobes and squidgy chest-innards. She's not as overt with her methods as some of the aforementioned Scandi-pop artists, and in fact her sounds err towards the indie, the folk and the experimental as opposed to R&B, soul or dance-pop, but the quality remains similar. It's astounding.

She bears resemblance to sprightly Scot Rachel Sermanni in her soul-quenching take on subtler genres. Her acoustic tendencies careen towards folk's enclave, but it's not stringently glued to the one genre - there's moments of electronica, synthpop, and ambient too; this might have something to do with Mike Lindsay (Cheek Mountain Thief, Tunng), who produced this shimmering debut. She's taking well-trod areas and spinning them in her own signature way. It's a fusion that's pulled off with grace and poise, and thrives in being not simply a gimmicky experiment, but heartfelt, accomplished art as well.

'The Hours' is a sprawling, epic rime. It's awash with vibrancy - vaulted highs kept aloft by gothic drones, crackling lows kept primitive with clackety beats. There's faerie-like fretwork, twinkling and enchanted, akin to Sin Fang or Of Monsters and Men; it's not gaudy axe licks drooling fey throughout the cut, but rather a subtle magic that dominates via the subconscious. 'Skin' is similar - understated guitars, post-rock atmospherics - but it's here she demonstrates her aptitude for Broadway harmonies and using her tongue to inflict mortal wounds: "You speak of love with her in mind/ this has to end before it's turning me blind/ but you're the one who went for my skin/ and now you can't go back again."

Farao's delivered something cruelly affecting and relentlessly moreish. She nurtures agony, and isn't afraid to peel back her skin to reveal the emotional viscera underneath. It's a telling EP, for sure, and paints her as a songwriter with a lot to say about love and loss - it's not done in bog-standard ways, and she tugs on your heartstrings like a devastated marionette master. But even in the wasteland of feelings, Jahnsen prevails with gorgeous compositions and an unmatched vocal talent. M83's 'Skin Of The Night' sums up Farao best: "She digs her nails into her naked chest/ her veins fan out like a road map/ she pulls back the skin to show her ribs/ that twinkle like shooting stars."