21-year-old Mica Levi is the unassuming five foot one figure creating tunes that somehow perfectly define these sometimes scary, often overwhelming, but always exciting times. She's the most singular artist leading the future-pop frontier, with an instinctual understanding of music only possible from one of those rare lives where rhythms, melodies, discord and noise have underpinned every last waking second. Over the past year Micachu, as she's become known, has released an avidly received mixtape that moulded concrete grime and ruff-neck hip hop to avant-electronics, composed a Nuevo-classical epic for the London Philharmonic Orchestra on the personal request of revered conductor Marc Anthony Turnage, and formed a band, The Shapes, to help channel the mind-boggling waves of creativity that swell from her scruffily curled bonce at the rate that most people breathe. Helmed by her adopted Svengali and seeming long-lost spiritual godfather, Matthew Herbert, Micachu’s debut long-player, is a teeny, but visionary peek at the infinite maelstrom of musical carnage that hurtles through her brain 24-hours-a-day. A mangled outpouring of fidgeting guitars, untameable bass splurges, fragile, swoonsome wails, sabre-toothed electronics and snatched sounds, from rattling bottlenecks to demonic hoovers. While on paper it doesn’t sound a sing-a-long setup, in between the shudders, splurts, stabs, stutters, stops and starts, spills a pure, pristine thread of melodic playfulness that makes Jewellery one of the most fiendishly addictive breakthrough albums of the year. Case and point: Mica’s steadily risen as one of the UK’s most talked-about acts, gracing all the best music rags, broadsheets and even national TV whichever way you look. A reluctant star, Mica isn’t so fussed about the flashing lights and lenses,  no matter who’s listening or not, the music will always play on.