Sleater-Kinney have done something rare and wonderful with their new album. For one thing it’s a reunion album that’s actually worth listening to, which is an obscure enough thing in its own right for a band (solo artists get the odd comeback, especially in their later years – the Johnny Cash Revival), but they’ve also achieved something even greater. They’ve made a relevant album in the band’s middle-age.

The band Sleater-Kinney takes its name from an intersection where they used to rehearse. An obscure name for what was to be an obscure band. Except that as they released albums through the nineties they kept stockpiling fans and admirers. They’re now remembered as one of the pre-eminent alternative rock bands of their era, as feminist icons and punk rock masters. I’m too young to speak for the times, but I expect as with most legacies that this one has been enhanced a fair bit. Not that the praise isn’t deserved.

Folks of my generation are the first that probably came to this band through Carrie Brownstein’s work on Portlandia (rather than the other chronological way around). There’s a lovely thing about living through a favourite band’s success, being there in line at the local record store to pick up the latest album in fevered anticipation (or giddily and recklessly pre-ordering it online at the first opportunity in the hope that maybe they mail it out a day or two earlier, as it may be). However there’s also something beautiful about having an entire body of work unfold before your eyes and in your ears. Checking out ‘One More Hour’ or ‘Turn It On’ on YouTube leads to listening to that full (and insanely brilliant) album, ‘Dig Me Out’, which leads to listening to the albums on either side and the next thing you know your trawling through the depths of the internet to find live bootlegs and cheap boxsets. You can really submerge yourself in it all. Just dive right in, head-first.

Suddenly Carrie Brownstein is more than a clever hipster satirist. Suddenly she’s an amazing guitarist and a powerful musical voice. And speaking of powerful voices, if Corin Tucker’s doesn’t melt your knees and fry your soul then maybe you need cochlear implants. That wobble when she really strains it? And don’t even get me started on the drumming prowess of Janet Weiss. She’s the secret weapon. The song writing, the riffs, the solos... that was all there. But it’s the drums of Sleater-Kinney that boosts them into the stratosphere in the space of a 2 minute punk rock song.

The trio are all in their 40s now. That shouldn’t matter, except that it kinda does. Whether or not the 8 year hiatus is a part of this is hard to say, but at an age when most of their predecessors have either settled into a deep slump or just plain given up, they’ve come back with an album that is actually worthwhile.

At this stage in their careers Bob Dylan had found Jesus and Neil Young had gone electronic. And rockabilly. And country. John Lennon was dead. Lou Reed had worn out most people’s patience. But those are all solo artists and it’s much easier to rebound on your own. Get a new band, a new muse, a new approach and you’ll be surprised how willing people are to welcome their heroes back into their arms. Or alternatively you go back to what did it for you in the first place. Bob Dylan had his resurgent ‘Time Out of Mind’ era. Neil Young had ‘Freedom’. Lou Reed ‘New York’. But again, those are solo artists.

‘No Cities to Love’ comes 20 years after their self-titled debut. Two decades. By then the Rolling Stones had already released their last truly great album (‘Tattoo You’ in 1981). Led Zeppelin had long since disbanded and had already cashed in on Live Aid (Sort of). The Beatles lasted half that time. The Doors, CCR, Nirvana… all over well within a decade. The Red Hot Chili Peppers at least come close, there were 18 years between their debut and ‘By The Way’. Queen maybe? Nah. There’s a difference between popularity and quality. Queen were never as good again as they were in the 70s.

Most bands simply don’t do this after 20 years. If you wanna touch the punk rockers that inspired Sleater-Kinney more than anybody then the lifelines are even shorter. You do well if your founding members are all even alive after that long.

So what’s the difference? The obvious one is that Sleater-Kinney is full of chicks. But saying that their feminine approach is in some way safer (musically or literally) is to spit in the face of their subversive legacy. It’s like Neko Case’s famous tweet last year.

If you think that Sleater-Kinney’s members all being women is in some way a part of the novelty then you should probably stop reading and get back to your Motley Crue records or whatever it is you do. There is no novelty. Just Rock and/or Roll.

But there is a point to be made about the male dominated rock and rollers of past generations. Those guys were gods to their submissive followers. Flawless beings of primal power and attitude. At some point there’s gonna be a terrible idea that gets greenlit simply because of the idol that came up with it. The echo of years of mindless adoration leading to entitled rock stars that think that every idea they have is revelatory. “Yeah, Jim Morrison’s coming into the studio tomorrow, he’s gonna cut a couple hours’ worth of his poetry…”

The first song of the new record is called ‘Price Tags’. An anti-capitalist anthem with all of the urgency and frustration that has always made this band so exhilarating. Nothing is lost. Just listen to that guitar tone, it’s enough to make you wanna punch a banker in the face.

The interplay between Tucker and Brownstein remains as tight as ever, guitars and vocals both. “We win, we lose, only together do we make the rules” – that says it all really. It’s the chorus of ‘Surface Envy’ and a definitive statement at that.

With the three-pronged attack of guitar/guitar/drums, there’s space enough that you can always pick out each instrument, just as you can in a jazz group. But they also play so tight, so rapidly and loudly, so forcefully demanding your attention and your adoration. And earning it too. The hooks, the riffs, the driving beats… they just keep coming. Like the sights out the side window as you speed down the motorway. Striking, enticing and then, before you realise it, replaced by the next one just as arresting.

The title track captures something great, as do songs like ‘Hey Darling’ and ‘Fade’, but it’s ‘A New Wave’ that achieved a very prestigious honour – I actually interrupted the album to immediately listen to it again. Twice. There’s a sure sign of good song for ya. ‘No Anthems’ is right up there too. I mean, do you want me to go through track by track and rave? I have far too much dignity for that…

This might be their best record from a strictly musical standpoint. It’s not their glossiest, nor is it their most guttural. And perhaps it lacks whatever the intangible force was that made ‘Dig Me Out’ one of the 5-10 best albums of the 1990s (The urgency of youth? Personal turmoil?). They’ve arguably never played or sung better, though, than on ‘No Cities to Love’.

The main thing is that somehow this reunion album stands alongside the best stuff they’ve ever done. Find me another band can say that at this stage of their careers. I dare you to. It can’t be done.

“It seems to me the only thing that comes from fame is mediocrity”

No. Not for Sleater-Kinney it doesn’t.