Crunches of alien tape loop spiral around on the opening to Mazy Fly, the latest record by Bay Area native Tia Cabral aka SPELLLING. These soon merge into the bewitching ‘Haunted Water’, which fills you with trepidation. The tense, twitchy beats build to a culmination of bleakness as Cabral’s layered whispering becomes evermore ghostly. These experimental textures read like a deconstruction of modern music, and welcome you to her world.

Gurgling organ sits under thumping club beats, and Cabral’s vocals shift from soft velvet to creaking footsteps. She’s able to manipulate her range to incorporate a paradox of sound as if she’s one of the aliens she sings about on ‘Real Fun’, the last half of which becomes pompously metal. She’s somewhere between Prince and Aphex Twin, and it’s thrilling to see where each track will take you in three minutes.

SPELLLING’s cosmic joy is most apparent on ‘Under The Sun’, which evokes the slightly off-kilter sound of a fun-fair carousel at the end of the world, as Cabral’s whispers turn to shrieks of “Silver flashes, a new start.” It’s uplifting in a strange sort of way, the type of hope and euphoria that comes from accepting your fate.

Chrystia Cabral is weird, there’s no doubting it. She’s a bold new voice in the experimental scene who’s doing something far more interesting than the ‘indietronica’ label she’s often slapped with. The racket of jazz on ‘Afterlife’ that is grounded by a warbling space-ship synth is a delight of euphony and disphony that almost exemplifies the vastness of Mazy Fly.

Charisma is what really makes this record mesh, from the post-modern nursery rhyme of ‘Secret Thread’ to the tales of colonial violence of ‘Haunted Water’, Spelling continuously reinvents herself and her sound. What at first listen may turn many off bears repeated listening, through the often terrifying kaleidoscope of sound is a melodic pop centre.