Ever since her scrambled, glitching breakthrough EP released on Hyperdub in 2017, her fractious sound collages – tapestries of steely, shuddering textures and disembodied vocals – have earmarked her as an artist who the paranoia and neuroses of the age in which she is working. Meanwhile, her prankster tendencies have ensured that you simply never know what she’s going to get up to next.

But in spite of the many accolades her music has won her, the legions of famous fans and collaborators she’s accrued – Arca, MIKE, and The Avalanches, to name a few – Klein’s musical career remains unknown even to some of those she's closest to. In 2017, she confessed to FADER that her family had no idea about her art – “I don’t really talk to them like that,” she said – and the promotional materials for reveal that this is still the case.

It’s this feeling of living a double life that inspired this week’s surprise drop. The work sees Klein craft something fantastical, a tilted Disney soundtrack to her own life, done the only way she knows how. Cinematic in scope but deeply experimental in execution, it’s an ambient monsterclass that takes influences from all sorts of pop, industrial, and classical sources, and transforms them into something new.

Centrepiece “sirens reloaded” is a glowing fantasia, a whole new world of drone and texture that recalls and inverts an oblique history of chamber music. Naturalistic horn sounds meld beautifully with Sasha Scott’s fluttering violin as a whole universe opens up over ten celestial minutes. “spiritual warfare”, meanwhile, is a short but sweet piano piece that is similarly transportive, evoking the haunted ballrooms of The Caretaker’s Everywhere at the End of Time in every glistening chime.

While the very best pieces here have a real feeling of prestige sound to them, an orchestral fullness, the way in which is compiled retains the free-spirited collage approach that runs through Klein’s work. She doesn’t want you to ever fully lose yourself in lusciousness – to her, beauty becomes comfortable, and comfortable gets boring quickly.

Album opener “forever yours” is all whistle and unplugged electric guitar, the kind of tactile curtain-raiser that would put off any casuals, while violent sobbing at the end of “true blood” ensures that the rest of the track’s glacial elegance doesn’t go unmarked. Villainous “man in the mirror”, meanwhile, arrives as an unnerving post-industrial R&B palette cleanser after some of the record’s most tender moments.

One of Klein’s most immersive projects to date, is a wildly inventive foray into ambient music, full of beauty that simultaneously retains so much of her disruptive personality. It feels unlikely, though, that this will make the job of introducing her family to her music any easier.