Released on Feb. 22, “Crushing” is the second studio album from the Australian-born singer/songwriter Julia Jacklin. And from the get-go, it’s tough to digest, but enthralling nonetheless.

It’s the first astounding album of 2019, but it doesn’t act like it. “Crushing” is not a conceptual, hour-long critique of systemic issues. It’s not an exhilarating exploration of genres backed with the greatest musicians alive. It’s a stripped down testimony that’s more folk than rock and has more electric guitars than folk purists would want. Jacklin trades deconstructing the large-scale effects of unhealthy relationships and sexism for anecdotes that only she and those closest to her know the consequences of.

The album opener and lead single, “Body,” is a hauntingly serene retelling of Jacklin’s breaking point. In five minutes, Jacklin sets the overlying theme of the record — breakup.

“Body” details when she left a childish, toxic man who only held her back. “I threw my luggage down/ I said, ‘I’m not a good woman when you’re around,’” Jacklin sings in a cold rage.

A standard kick and snare drum beat join “Body” with a warm piano melody as Jacklin’s anger devolves into fear.

She commits to taking control of her life and body and allows the listener into her deepest, romantic fears from the start of the album.

“You took my camera/ Turned to me, 23, naked on your bed looking straight at you,” she sings. “Would you use it to hurt me?/ Well, I guess it’s just my life/ And it’s just my body.”

“Crushing,” released through Liberation records, sounds on monotonous on the surface. But beneath the thin blankets of smooth guitars, albeit unremarkable, are yarns spun by a woman who is frayed and is now tying herself back together. The Melbourne native’s decision not to ease the listener into the album’s personal themes and instead hit them with a truck-load of heartache pays dividends.

There’s no complex musicianship for the listener to hide their ears behind either. Producer Burke Reid, known for her work with Courtney Barnett, gives the album’s production an aesthetic so bare and honest that it mirrors Jacklin’s lyrics to a T.

Jacklin isn’t trying to oversaturate the line of mass-consumed break-up albums. There’s no chart-topper with a groovy hook or a dance-floor banger. What makes up the 39-minute album is unadulterated emotional honesty and all of the uncomfortable baggage that comes along with it.

The third track, “Don’t Know How to Keep Loving You,” is a mid-tempo rock ballad that commands a skip if shuffled into your general playlist due to the risk of dampening the mood. But when in a dimly lit room with a drink and a pair of headphones, it acts as the best confidant for whatever bottled up feelings you have.

It’s hard not to compare the record to recent break-up albums, particularly Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next,” or Lorde’s “Melodrama.” These two records took the concept and gave it an innovative art-pop twist for a mainstream audience. Jacklin, meanwhile, simply straightens out the approach and uses vintage sound — there’s some clear Bob Dylan and Fiona Apple influence — to tell modern problems.

“Crushing” is a stern and self-reflective indie album born out of the #MeToo era. It’s likely to go unnoticed outside of Australia, but its message knows no borders.