After a slew of EPs and remixes on Tri Angle, San Franciscan producer oOoOO, aka Chris Dexter, is set to release his full-length debut on his own fledgling label, Nihjgt Feelings, based on a remote Turkish island. He's been compared to Balam Acab, Grimes and Salem after previous releases, but he's famously difficult to pin down. Dexter's sound has been subject to much discussion: does he create chillwave? Did he pioneer witch-house/drag? Is it shoegaze? Electronica? Regardless, we at The 405 love him and whatever the style of sounds he makes is called, so much that we got him to headline our fifth birthday bash back in April.

His first feature-length LP, Without Your Love comes a fair few years into his career. After the spray of material we've had from him, just teasing and whetting our appetites, we can finally get to grips with a decent-sized chunk of oOoOO noise. Darkness is prevalent on the album – there's eerie, spaced-out psychtronica wobbles and butchered beats, pained vocals stammer over gothic synths and experimental passages of brooding malevolence. It's almost comparable to the calmer moments of HEALTH. The sounds are tortured and expel savage pop melodies occasionally, but for the most part, this is a collection of brutally introspective soundscapes that could be playing on the radio in the gondola that bobs along the Styx.

Eight minute saga 'Sirens//Stay Here' is really two efforts sewn together haphazardly. The first half is a portion of dilapidated vocal samples and incoherent yowls of anguish, backed by melancholy synth-goth pads and lumbering percussion. The second portion is more rhythmic. It's got oppressive tribal drums, and (presumably) Dexter's voice solemnly crooning behind dour sci-fi bloops and groaning bass. 'The South' instantly hurtles down Crystal Castles Avenue, with distorted glitchy synths and ticking drum machines. There are sampled R&B wisps, hacked into tiny pieces, trying to escape into the ether. It's a totalitarian expanse of sonic torment, brash and dissonant with little respite. In short, it's wonderful.

Although very dark and foreboding/unrelenting, it's also a completely engrossing record, demanding every microsecond of your time and even more of your attention. Without Your Love is desolate, but it evokes those desperate moments of anguish and terror and agony within daily life. It's all fine and dandy receiving clichéd wisdom or words of encouragement, but pats on the back and half-smiles of commiseration can only help you along so far. Sometimes you want to sulk. Sometimes you want to writhe about in your own self-pity. It's not something you're ever taught, but sometimes, a lovely cathartic period of nihilistic reflection can do wonders. Sod the faux-sympathy, whack on Without Your Love and bawl your eyes out until your eyeballs are red and sore. You'll feel right as rain in no time. Or you'll end up catatonic. Whatever, c'est la vie.

Lead single 'Mouchette' has a grooving, grinding bassline and stomping beats you can actually dance to – not that you ever would. Ominous bird-like synth screeches pan across the cut, and childlike vocals coo with ghoulish apathy, seemingly uncaring towards any of the sonic happenings. 'Crossed Wires' is mostly in reverse. Hymnal chanting is played backwards, reverberating amidst white noise and TV static, while grim piano keys clang intermittently.

So it's not the warmest, fuzziest album with the sunniest of dispositions. It could never be. But with Is Tropical, Crystal Fighters and a host of other musicians filling that void this year, oOoOO is ready to stock the summer months with gloomwave tragedies, ensuring that we don't get too happy. There's still affection to be found for Without Your Love, even if it is entombed in a cavernous demonic ribcage buried deep underground; this isn't going to be the kind of party-startin', rip-roarin' thrill ride to pre-drink to. These songs are gloriously introverted. This album is bitter, twisted, and utterly brilliant.