“Are You Listening?” Davis asks, opening up her debut EP TWST0001. This gentle query swiftly goes to straight-up ranting, twisting and turning with left-field electro-thunder and raindrop piano. Her vocals going from a hushed secret to soaring and impenetrable with impregnable ease, answering her own question.

The closeness of human spirit remains, even when Davis is the “Girl On Your TV”. “HD shows me imperfection / but it fucks with your perception”, enclosing herself in the screen knowing that scrutiny is par for the course, and anyone with a remote is in control, even when it comes to the social aspect of life in a black mirror.

Voicing the true state of mental health (“sad girls club but u gotta be cute”) the dripping electro pulses shower such modern truths as “I can’t write but I can type”, and “posting pictures like a cutie / but embarrassed that I’m lonely”, it’s the dealing with these timeless street-level issues of today, even including friendship (“Always”), that mark Davis’ humanity even when it’s hidden behind pop music simultaneously wanting to let you in but batting you away.

Even “Are You Filming Me?” deals with the constant Big Brother state we’ve found ourselves in, pop star or not, we’re all, by some way or another, tucked away on a strangers phone, walking past a tourist op, streaming on Instagram live, or even something more sinister. But the underlying facet of twst lies in the uncertainty of an actual future, which in reality is as sedated as the brooding storm of electronic flashes and stomping beats throughout TWST0001.

Pop music has been glitching itself into a metamorphosed algorithm of pay-off melody and auto-tuned crying, all presented as a bombardment, before tucking itself away into the night, with the dying wink of a phone running out of battery. In this world, twst has only just begun to show her true strengths, and refuses to hide away from the morality of modernity, even letting it go down easier with a sugar-coated, albeit jagged, pill.