Despite the glaring misnomer, Peckham non-goth Daniel Woolhouse has been causing quite a stir of late with his dub-pop/electro R&B alias, Deptford Goth. With full measures of cool and glistening smoothness, mixed with a heady dose of gliding, fragile sorrow, it's one potent cocktail poised to knock your socks clean off. (Side note: if the 'Deptford Goth' was a cocktail, it'd be full of hipster tears, abandoned cars and vodka. Tasty!) We've had tantalising titbits from Woolhouse in the form of 2011s masterful EP, Youth II, but this is a whole different calibre. He is the architect of cloistered drama on Life After Defo, his debut full-length, throwing layers of gorgeous synths and lip-quivering emotion. Signed to Merok, this first effort isn't going to break their streak of excellence any time soon.

The south-east London lad has drawn comparisons to Jamie Woon and James Blake, for his soulful approach to dubstep, but the similarities are largely superficial and redundant; yes, Life After Defo is a bit spacey and there are eloquent portions of elegant synth, but Woon has more overt R&B tendencies, and Blake could never conjure anything as stimulating or magical. At times, this veers towards electronica with exquisitely crafted bespoke soundscapes, though it never strays too far from the mission statement. We never lose Woolhouse's innate knack for glorious melody and deep feeling.

'Union' is swarming with creaking melody and clicking beats. It all feels very organic for something so synthetic: synth harp twinkles like dew under stars, solemn piano pads pad out the music and stop it drifting into sparse The xx-territory (coincidentally, producer Rodaidh McDonald worked on The xx's Mercury Prize winning debut). 'Lions' is a delicate string of almost a cappella. The vocals and solitary synths intertwine amidst clumps of silence, and the frailty of the track begs you to hold your breath in case that minute exertion is the thing that shatters the beauty.

You could assume that this is a sullen record, and you'd be forgiven for that – there are a fair few moments that are tearjerking (well, maybe not that far, but they're gloomy), and almost everything is in the minor key – a universal signifier of frowns and folded arms. However, lurking beneath the moody floes are shy fragments of hope and endearing perseverance in the face of lifes inevitable atrocities. Though it may sound hella depressing, it's really not about that - but it's not entirely a record of hope either. It's more like a tableau, depicting a pivotal scene of galvanising heartbreak - you've got to take the good with the bad irrespective of what life throws at you. It would be unwise to assume too much about Woolhouse's intentions, as this is a blinding example of a record that reveals itself over time and multiple listens. It starts bloody great, and ends up becoming mindblowing.

'Guts No Glory' has marching band percussion and Eastern string-plucks, built over tidal surges of burbling bass synth. It's got that dubstep twang, but no blah-wib-wobbly nonsense that pervades a lot of pop nowadays. 'Years' is an infectious synth-pop gem with gusto, swerving between the camps of ballad and epic sprawl. Regardless, it's a biggie. 'Bloody Lip' implies punk, but is home to some of the most serene sounds on the LP. There are occasional babbling thwomps of drum machine, or the plink-plonk of keys, but by and large, it's a calming finalé.

Life After Defo is a fantastic collection of songs, there'll be few arguing otherwise. It will take a while to peel back every coat of nuance and each thread of subtlety, but the rewards of the journey will be worth it. Each listen of the record reveals something fresh, be it a line of synth or a new take on the lyrics. This is a living, breathy work of art - muscular, thought-provoking and a heart of emotion that beats like the tick of a clock - and will provide solace to those who come across it.