Safe mainstream pop, a la Chappell Roan, would have been an easy route for Rebecca Lucy Taylor, aka Self Esteem, to take at this stage of her career. After all, she’s done the acting bit; Cabaret in the West End with Jake Shears, a dabble in teatime television. But she’s not an obvious pop star, she’s far more subversive, inventive and smart. Tough messages of our fragmented Britain are served with a velvet glove.

This third studio album has enough bite – from the artwork which resembles a furious spin on The Handmaid’s Tale , to its introspective lyrics – to never feel twee or cosy. Like PJ Harvey, Bjork or Kate Bush before her, she blazes her own trail.

That’s not to say it’s impenetrable or inaccessible. Taylor knows how to craft bangers. It’s just that here we have collaborations with leftfield musicians like Moonchild Sanelly (‘In Plain Sight’) and Nadine Shah (‘Lies’). And only Taylor could cheekily address problematic sexual positions in ’69’. “I just don’t have the time,” she purrs, over euphoric electronica. It’s as if Madonna looked at her corset during the Erotica era and went, “Meh… Can’t be arsed”. It’s this humour and self -awareness that makes it sexy.

Her voice is as soulful and uncompromising as ever. Gospel choirs are somehow even more potent when dropping the F bomb, as with ‘The Deep Blue Okay’: a defiant and furious closing statement of intent, complete with a string section. Long may she remain the grit in the pearl.