If you too are feeling the increasingly widespread frustration with the state of pop music at the moment, with the monotony of its sound and the inability to produce a true breakthrough song worthy of the old glories of the genre, a delightful reprieve has just come from an unexpected corner of the UK music scene.

Those in the know have already been following Jessica Winter’s ventures thus far with well-justified hope. Here is a voice that feels genuinely different (in all meanings of the term: when has a vocal signature in British pop music last felt as immediately recognisable as hers?), an artistic mind capable of coming up with left-field ideas and of crafting instant earworms which are both catchy and complex, and a project that has felt well-rounded and multifaceted from day one.

It certainly helps that Winter is a true veteran of the buzzing underground London scene, the parts South of the Thames especially. She has, among other things, for a long time been one half of outstanding alternative project Pregoblin; and in more recent times, released the sharp, eminently danceable single ‘Clutter’ together with Lynks, a true alternative icon.

With such impressive credentials at her back and a string of increasingly intriguing single and EP releases under her belt, it feels like this long-player, titled ‘My First Album’ in what feels like a moment of genuine soul-bearing alongside a slight provocation, has been very long in the making. One listen at the record will change that impression and cement the knowledge that, differently from so many artists on the ever-moving conveyor belt of plastic pop, Jessica Winter has taken exactly the time she needed.

‘My First Album’ feels, when listened to in one go, like a no-holds-barred narrative of the inner workings of its creator’s mind, in all their many facets: from the silliest ones to the darkest. “I’ll always be the worst person in the world”, Winter warns in the lyrics of the eponymously titled ‘Worst Person In The World’, and the feeling lingers that this statement might be only partially tongue-in-cheek.

There is a real edge to this music, tangible in a way that the oversexed mainstream pop is yet to be able to achieve. You can hear it most of all in those tracks which make some more concessions to electronica and to harsher sounds, incorporating residues of Winter’s past dalliances with punk and rock music. ‘Wannabe’ has something almost reminiscent of Hole in its sensitivities, and the synth sirens of ‘All I Ever Really Wanted’ beckon the loudest in the direction of an electronic beat that just begs to be danced to.

Most of Winter’s repertoire has been extremely danceable, even for the chronically uncoordinated. She deliberately leans into a persona that is constructed to be slick, sexy, but also charmingly goofy in places, inviting listeners to care less about how others are viewing them and more about what the music is making them want to do. This record is working much to the same effect throughout: the most recent single, ‘Aftersun’, is perhaps the most striking example, a warm and refreshing bop that feels like the summer soundtrack contemporary pop has been promising for years and yet never delivered.

While the album is far from shy in its deliberate attempt to be fun, this does not mean it is shallow. That exploration of the darker places comes out in a way that feels both like liberation and an impossible-to-satisfy hunger against the backdrop of ‘Feels Good (For Tonight)’, for instance; while ‘L.O.V.E.’, a single that would have been a chart-topper in better times, is restless and relentless and just a little haunted.

Elsewhere there is space for something meditative, too, something that has been part of Winter’s poetics throughout her career and something that came out in the past very strongly in some of her EP work, especially in the most recent ‘Limerence’. Here the wistfulness resurfaces in ‘Only Lonely’, and the softer piano mood finds its way into the composition of ‘Big Star’ - a track that for many reasons brings to mind Lady Gaga, perhaps not coincidentally also a hard-to-classify, defiant kind of pop artist with a known prowess over the ivory keys - and creates a space for self-reflection that feels earnest, and gentle, and more than a bit vulnerable.

This vulnerability, most of all, is what lingers after the last notes of the album have faded, after the dancing and the fun are over. So often, throughout the history of the genre, pop artists have worn a mask and turned a character into an armour. On the contrary during this record, Jessica Winter strips herself of it all and challenges her audience to confront her fragilities, her desires, her hopes. The result is beautifully empowering, genuinely touching in places, and perhaps most remarkably, is all of that without taking anything away from its equally sincere desire to provide some honest pop fun. 

Even for those who might feel the genre has reached a dead end, there’s hope for pop music yet; and Jessica Winter’s intensely personal debut has just shown us the direction in which that hope might lie.