Despite what Google may think, Torres is not a Spaniard with golden feet, foppy blonde locks (get with the times Google) and a face like a Swedish rent boy. No. Torres is a singer-songwriter (real name Mackenzie Scott) whose delicious output straddles '90s slacker rock and the indie maelstroms of deepest, darkest London. At times Waxahatchee and Best Coast feel like apt comparisons, at other times you could cite London Grammar or Daughter. Hailing from rock Mecca Nashville, Tennessee, Scott follows a long line of legendary guitarists like Duane Allman, JJ Cale, and those splendid Kings Of Leon lads, towards certain nirvana.

Her eponymous debut LP is devastating, for the most part. 'Chains' pulses with a bassline reminiscent of a pared-down 'Seven Nation Army'. Her vocals are starkly contrast against the gentle ebb of tidal rumbling, held aloft for all to gaze upon - her voice is phenomenal, darting between the svelte tones of Elena Tonra and the hushed croon of Romy Madley-Croft. It conveys a wounded malevolence as she sings amongst sparse echoes of guitar: "And now I'm starving for the truth/ so feed me something real while I've got youth left in my veins." A vital heartbeat underpins her threadbare soul-baring, and just as your resolve creaks, a record scratches and 'Chains' dissipates. The cut is a definite highlight, and it's representative of Torres as a whole.

Comparisons have been made between Scott's music and the stylings of Cat Power and PJ Harvey - it's all electric guitars, angst and TNT topics. 'Moon & Back' pours woes of a young mother giving up her child for adoption out of despairing necessity. 'Waterfall' is gushing with a magical, sparkling synth drone, which juxtaposes against the suicidal implications in the words ("The rocks beneath they bare their teeth/ they all conspire to set me free,"). Torres' vocals are childlike amongst plodding bass guitar and wavering possibility of impeding death. As the narrative unravels, moonlight keys entwine around lounge-jazz axes akin to King Krule; it's a coy, fickle exploration of life. There's certainly nods to Power and Harvey, and probably plenty other powerful, biographical songwriters.

'November Baby' places the guitar playing front'n'centre, and it soars, twinkling and glistening under the aching pipes of Scott. The use of bass here is masterful - it's skeletal, but effective at filling out sound and enhancing the emotion in Scott's voice; it's the baritone in a duet, almost acting as the response to every call in Torres' words. 'When Winter's Over' whips out her Tennessee roots. There's a smattering of country-rock in her six-stringing, though it's diluted by indie and the gruffness of post-grune afflictions. It's more obviously melodic and features major riffage, but the bitterness reigns supreme still, as if Scott could begin sobbing at any second.

It's not all final-breath heartbreak or unrelenting doom. 'Honey', although it carries a maudlin message ("Honey, while you were ashing in your coffee, I was thinking about telling you what you've done to me") with each dusty SoCal strum smothered in distortion, evokes a hope of freedom. The driving kick beat provides confident pace. A lot of Torres is Scott buried in sufferering, whereas this effort instigates head-held-high strength. The track grows from tentative fractures into a salted-gizzard howling rage; it's almost like the purging of pent-up feelings, albeit not yet vocalised. It's a stream of consciousness spiel exploding inside her mind. The lyrics are forced through smiles, and delivered semi flippantly, as though anger and sadness have morphed into pure-bloody hatred á la Skyler White.

This is a fantastic record. It courses through your veins like frost, sending restless shivers up your spine, and there's little you can do to stop it - even the most Grinchian hearts will shatter like sugarglass during the duration of Torres. Not only is Scott one of the most disturbing and affecting wordsmiths of recent years, she's a damn fine guitarist, reeling off virtuosic melodies effortlessly. Her compositions are stunning, and the way she forces bass, strings, guitars and percussion to mingle perfectly captures her lyrical tones. This is not an album to be taken lightly - this is an album to be ravaged by and devastated by. Torres will leave you bruised and breathless.