IF Seven were a debut album by a 22-year-old hopeful, the music journals and weekend supplements would be making a big fuss of Lisa Stansfield.

Rarely is an album so beautifully crafted and executed. But the pop world is very ageist, especially towards female artists, and Stansfield is 47 now.

With a hiatus of ten years since her last album, interest in the Rochdale soul singer has gone off the boil. You are more likely to have caught Ms Stansfield on a re-run of Agatha Christie’s Marple rather than on BBC Radio One. And that is a great shame.

Stansfield and her long-term collaborator, Ian Devaney, are truly gifted writers and musicians, working in a bubble untouched by passing fads. Those willing to invest in Seven – denoting her seventh studio collection – will discover lush orchestral arrangements and deliciously memorable songs performed by a distinguished and charismatic singer.

The album is best played loud, in order to appreciate the subtle nuisances in the artist’s delivery. Every breath can be heard.

There are ten great new songs, here with an additional four on the deluxe version. Of these, Can’t Dance, Why and Stupid Heart have the makings of being chart contenders to a younger artist.

However, you suspect that only devotees will enjoy this rather wonderful record. The dozens of young starlets and X-Factor contenders desperate for a decent song could do themselves a favour and investigate this little treasure trove.