You have already witnessed a couple of success stories coming out from Odd Future - the idiosyncratic Los Angeles hip-hop collective that have gifted the world with the loose-mouth rapper Tyler, The Creator and the alternative R&B star Frank Ocean.
Now comes a third - this time, Syd, also known as Sydney Bennett, its former audio engineer and deejay, who upped and went to start another band, the R&B project The Internet.
The 24-year-old has now released her solo debut Fin. It posits her as the latest entry to an increasingly crowded pool of alt-R&B divas including Kelela, SZA, Jhene Aiko, Banks, Nao, FKA twigs and Solange - but with a queer twist.
She's less likely to slink up into the limelight than retreat into backstage. That's not to say she does not ooze confidence.
Far from it. On the opening track Shake Em Off, a missive about "shaking off haters and stress", she slurs her way through staccato riffs and dredged-through percussion: "Back and forth now I'm pacing/ Young star in the making... They pump me up to deflate me/I'm so close I can take it."
The braggadocio is counterpointed by her preferred choice of delivery: whispery purring with a tinge of devil-may-care. She does not see the need to declaim or raise her voice.
It's a special, piscine, slippery quality that makes it hard to pin her down.
That assuredness comes with the realisation that she is still a contradictory mess.
"You can thank my insecurities/ They're the reason I was down so long," she confesses over some Tex-Mex riffs in the shape-shifting, psychedelic closer Insecurities.
Her brand of ambivalent sensuality is a foil to much of pop/ hip-hop's oversexed, "pumped-up" masculinity.
Her come-hither bedroom ballad, Smile More, pivots on this flipped- around situation - instead of turning these lights low, she changes her mind and says: "Second thought, leave 'em on."
It's more mind game than physical satiation. "We get better every time/Learning how to read your mind," she declares over languorous bass.
This is followed by Got Her Own, a tug of war between seduced and seducer. "You try to undress her, but she says no/You try to sex her, but she says no," goes a passive- aggressive exchange over overdubbed echoes and lightly chugging beats.
On Body, which she hopes will turn out to be the "baby-making anthem of 2017", she appropriates admittedly cliched lines and delivers them straight with a sadomasochistic subtext: "Don't let go, I can hear your body when I/Pull your hair, what's my name."
Things come to a head with Dollar Bills, co-written and co-sung by her Internet bandmate Steve Lacy, where she challenges someone to "shake it for these dollar bills".
Is this just hedonism or an indictment on the money-making show business? The answer may be both.