As I write this, it is nine months to the day since Hannah Clark, alias FOE [Twitter/Facebook], released her debut EP, Hot New Trash. When you consider that most bands take a number of years, from conception, to release an album, one conclusion can be quickly reached: damn, she moves fast. The last time I tackled a record that had been released anywhere near that quickly (trivia fans: it was Red Light Company’s Fine Fascination, released ten months after their first EP), I said that the band had potential and would do well to capitalise on it. (Sadly, they are no more, having split two years ago.) By contrast, FOE’s Bad Dream Hotline comes to light almost fully formed.

I don’t want to take that leap and say Clark has her sound completely nailed – for all I know she could release other new music this year that’s completely different – but in terms of this being her debut album, it ticks all the boxes: no weak links, plenty of variety, and hooks to burn. She hasn’t been on the scene all that long, but her opening statement is, in a word, fantastic. Even if her dark lyrical style will prove divisive, the 12 songs present on Bad Dream Hotline present a sonic palette that’s wide enough to provide something for everyone.

As evinced by lead single Cold Hard Rock, she has a knack for writing gargantuan choruses, and there are plenty of those on offer, the best of which is arguably present on The Black Lodge – coincidentally I’m going to stick my neck out and call that song the best thing she’s written so far – as possibly the most uplifting moment on the album: ‘There’s a breeze in the trees, singing, “Your black heart, your black heart needs a transplant.” Acting as the centrepiece to a song that is an altogether darker take on certain classic fairytales, the fact that it’s so unexpected makes its appearance all the more impressive.

There are plenty of other notable moments, too; Mother May I? deals with Clark’s feelings of being an outcast when she was young, evocative lyrics like, ‘I spy something in the desert of my mind / Mother may I play games with the bigger kids?’ married to a fizzing grunge-pop tune that establishes the album’s theme quite well after the breathtaking introductory salvo of Ballad For the Brainkeepers. The latter’s title is misleading – it’s not entirely a ballad, anyway, building from quiet beginnings to a cacophonous finish, with Clark giving herself life lessons: ‘Get to the top / Get all the way up, just don’t fall off’.

There’s no danger of that happening; while her rise has been surprisingly fast (again, it took nine months for her to get to where she is now), she’s only just getting warmed up. Maybe she can learn to shake the insecurity that is so clearly documented on this album. She describes her body as a Jailhouse, opening up about her isolation; on A Handsome Stranger Called Death she reveals the fear she used to have of ‘being another dead-at-20 something-or-another’; and on stunning (actual) ballad Dance and Weep she relates her frustration at not being noticed enough: ‘Was I selfish again? Well, I can’t help that / I do it all for you and I get nothing back.’

Older songs Genie In a Coke Can and Tyrant Song also feature; it would be foolish to call them weak songs, as they certainly fit in quite well on the album – and on that note, there is no Deep Water Heartbreaker, which might not have fit the context of Bad Dream Hotline anyway, so that was a good move – but the newer stuff eclipses them both. Clark has come a hell of a long way in a short space of time, and it sounds like she has plenty more up her sleeve, but, to say the absolute least of it, Bad Dream Hotline will do for now. This is one hell of an introduction.

FOE – Cold Hard Rock

Bad Dream Hotline is out January 16th; pre-order here.