Trying to sell anyone on Lolina is almost embarrassing, given the anti-monetisation nature of her music.

After the cult duo Hype Williams with Dean Blunt dissolved in the haze of a ten-centimetre blunt, Lolina set off on a new path. If you join her, you might meet Arca or Mica Levi, who count as her fellow travellers.

Lolina likes to test how much the classic song form can still take. Her instantly recognisable sound follows the logic of her analogue gear, which at times seems to operate on its own. Her music is smoky and indifferent to how things are “supposed to be done”. Think of it as a deliberately unmarketable antithesis to an era in which the word “content” has become a synonym for music.

As someone at Tiny Mix Tapes (RIP) put it: “Lolina’s production simply exists in a space where pop is less a genre than a scrapyard of clichés to be taken apart and reassembled into something defiantly other.”