Anyone who cites Delia Derbyshire as an inspiration is sure to have a handle on the intricacies of electronic music composition, and further evidence of that is explored on this debut album by Emika - looking rather like a jet black-haired version of Debbie Harry.

That's where all comparisons with electronic pop cease, however, as 'Emika' is a completely different beast altogether with twelve songs of nervous, claustrophobic electronica. Emika first lays a platform of crisp, sturdy (almost industrial) beats then overlays with harsh metallic samples and precise, spiky tones.

Vocally, Emika derives from the less-is-more school. Whispering sparingly or singing in such low, breathy tones that her voice simply melts into the mix. Everything is designed to mould together, all parts moving in unison to create 12 miniature musical vignettes that heave, moan and rouse in equal measure - the whole always more significant than the sum of its parts.

Occasionally Emika dips a toe into the vagaries of electronic pop; tracks such as 3 Hours, Common Exchange and Double Edge glisten with inauspiciously addictive pop menace, whilst in-keeping with the context of the album. The only significant departure is the closing Credit Theme, a polished, cinematic-sounding classical piece, played on piano (impressively) by Emika herself.

Underwhelming at first, the closer you scrutinise Emika the more the album's hypnotic charm is revealed. Clearly, this is an artist that has a strong vision, and the imagination, musical education and talent to bring it all to life. It may be a dark, uncompromising vision, but Emika provides more than enough layers within that to both satisfy and intrigue.