Sasha Perera is a ghost. Recording as Perera Elsewhere, the Berlin-based musician exists as a nebula in song form: the songwriter herself both undetectable and omnipresent at every turn. This writer stumbled onto her debut, Everlast, gradually becoming entwined in its simultaneous distance and immediacy; it turned into a minor obsession.

It's no small thing, then, to say All of This dwarfs it. If there was any ounce of tentativeness to her first statement, it's evaporated. Before, she peered into a sort of sterile darkness all her own: this is the plunge. The opening track blatantly lays it out with its title alone, ‘Something’s Up’. Indeed. Perara's distorted vocals seem to float disembodied, and vanish at a whim. By the time matters bleed into ‘The Other Side’, the dull sense of dread has creeped into every cranny, as she intones, “Just don't let it get to you/ Build a wall a mile high and whatever we may do, don't ever look on the other side.” Whether a reflection on our modern culture or an imagining of something of a more supernatural dread (perhaps both), the words bare a calm snarl.

Whether addressing lovers (“insatiable,” naturally) such as on ‘Happened’, or even on ‘Tomorrow South’, a track of essentially just some computerized humming, there is no calm to be found here. Therein lies the real brilliance of All of This; like any good sense of existential dread, we won't often be able to explain why the album is so damn unsettling, only sure that is. It will leave you grasping, reaching. For what, you'll have not an inkling. As if mocking us, she even sees fit (as has already been noted around the web) to twist a silly 50 Cent sex anthem into a sort of vicious come on, gnawing away at whatever comfort the baser instincts can offer.

At times, it can feel a bit like a mutated Portishead, if Barrow and co. had entirely favored mood to melody, resulting in a more desperate statement than even they could dream up. Naturally, like any comparison this is an oversimplification and does disservice to the music in question, but the point remains: this is timely music, alive and squirming. As things glide slowly into the title track, hopelessness reigns supreme. This is the soundtrack to the year from hell. When the dread reaches you at 12AM on a week night and there's a million other things you should be doing, this is where to turn.