In 2017, Sigrid Raabe made instantaneous waves with her debut single, Don’t Kill My Vibe. A piece of precision-tooled Scandipop, it saw the Norwegian singer decry patronising male influence in the music industry via a whooping falsetto, bombastic 80s drums and a tapestry of chattering synths.

Its video, meanwhile, showcased Sigrid’s striking, anti-glam aesthetic: she writhed unsexily across a makeshift stage clad in primary-coloured outfits, conspicuously bare-faced behind curtains of brown hair. It was a vivid, memorable combination and a remarkably effective branding exercise, singling Sigrid out from the stream of young Nordic artists that have attempted to break Britain in recent years.

On the 22-year-old’s first album, however, there’s a sense that the no-frills image and refusal to suffer fools might just be the most remarkable things about Sigrid. Sucker Punch is a collection of spotless, businesslike pop informed more by extreme competence than the strident, independent-mindedness her persona promises. Killer choruses and cool, crisp production abound, but songs rarely venture beyond the tried and tested limits of latter-day dance-pop. Top 10 hit Strangers’ stuttering synths fail to ruffle the conventionality of its epic chorus; Don’t Feel Like Crying merges cheesy Europop with mid-career Coldplay to pedestrian effect. The exception is the madcap Business Dinners, a critique of artist commodification that sports bubbly Sophie-style sound-effects and a reggae-flavoured chorus. It’s a moment of offbeat delight on an album otherwise characterised by earworm-centric efficiency – and the kind of gratifyingly idiosyncratic move a supposed pop renegade would benefit from making more often.