Haley Fohr’s voice – an arresting, earthy croon that can darken from honey to molasses to tar in the course of a drawn-out syllable – soars and moans with a steady strength that recalls Scott Walker, Diamanda Galás and Nico. Around it all she hangs layers of spindly lost-highway guitar, a faint haze of synths and fuzzed strings that are both soothing and predatory.

Circuit des Yeux has evolved from heavily distorted early recordings into a delicately balanced force of nature, flitting between mythic avant-folk, late-night hymnals, and digitally-filtered backroom country. Her 2016 album Jackie Lynn, and the mysterious persona Fohr created for it, feels like David Lynch ghostwriting a Bruce Springsteen song. This is cinematic folk with a steely heart – outlaw psych steeped in a stillness that demands your full attention.

"Since she was a teenager, Haley Fohr, now 27, has been a kind of one-woman post-cabaret movement, using finger-picked folk-guitar mesmerisation, synthesizer ripples, aggressive drone chords and a sever, semi-operatic low voice. She's hard to contain" - The New York Times

"Chicago-based singer Haley Fohr's resonant baritone can make you tremble one moment and weep the next" - NPR

Photo: Julia Dretel