If I were to ask you to imagine a female singer-songwriter, there’s a good chance your mind would go to a subdued, pensive artist, a la Joan Baez or Julien Baker.

But lately, there’s been a crop of women whose particular brand of introspection is better accompanied by rattling, detuned guitars and a pummeling rhythm section than an acoustic guitar. Women like Kristina Esfandiari of King Woman and Chelsea Wolfe.

Full transparency, I was only introduced to Chelsea Wolfe a few weeks ago, through her guest appearance on the newest Deafheaven record. But that track left a strong enough of an impression that I sought her out. I added this, her most recent record, to my travel Spotify playlist and listened to it on a layover in the Miami airport.

And from the opening buzzsaw guitars of “Spun,” I was hooked. The band plays slow and heavy, tethering Wolfe’s mourning, ethereal voice to the ground as she waxes on her own mental health, exploring the endless infinity of her own mind.

By all admissions, I’m a sucker for just about any heavy band with delicate vocals, so I’m already a bit biased toward this sound. But this isn’t stereotypical sludgegaze—the arrangements are smartly crafted and expertly played. “16 Psyche” is a master class of sludge textures, pushing an already heavy verse into an even heavier chorus. “Vex” features a guest verse from Isis/Sumac frontman Aaron Turner.

It isn’t all punishing riffs, though. There are some more nuanced moments. “Twin Fawn” proves that she can jump from quiet atmospheres to punishing doomscapes with the best of them. “Offering” sounds a bit like Massive Attack trying their hand at industrial or goth. “Two Spirit” is a haunting acoustic track that wouldn’t sound out of place in a remake of Wuthering Heights.

Much of this instrumental heft is no doubt due to producer and long-time collaborator Ben Chisholm, who has been working alongside Wolfe since 2010. The liner notes credit him with guitar, bass, electronics, keyboards, and piano. And since this is only Chelsea’s second metal album (she apparently had a more goth sound in her earlier works), it’s easy to credit Chisholm for the textural sophistication, considering his own musical history with punk, noise, and grindcore.

But whatever the breakdown of their partnership, Wolfe and Chisholm’s combined powers are a force to be reckoned with. The music is as heavy as the lyrics, without ever feeling contrived or edgelordy. Hiss Spun is as crushing as it is introspective, without compromising on either.