Li Lykke Timotej Zachrisson has grown up. Three years have passed since the Swedish chanteuse released her debut album Youth Novels under the alias of Lykke Li, the collection of songs itself an interweaving tale of virtuous love and fragility. But things have changed since a 21-year-old Li sang about her self-confessed “shy shy shy” disposition and being “a dancer all along”. Instead Wounded Rhymes, her long-awaited follow-up, makes way for a sonic documentary of her lost innocence and her admitted aftermath of a breakup. It’s not a concept album by any means, but it is enough of an outline to shed a little light upon its personal content and context.

The delicacy of tone that made Li so delightfully vulnerable on Youth Novels has been replaced with a darker mood and deeper voice that fully commands her listeners: a powerful manifestation of the suffering that she laments on Wounded Rhymes. Gone are the light-hearted, humorous undertones of Li’s previous material and the echoes of laughter that permeated the beginning of her most overtly anthemic track ‘Breaking It Up’ have all but disappeared.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. First track ‘Youth Knows No Pain’ shows that Li’s surpassed the misery that she’s about to unleash, portraying herself in a strong light before she plummets back into her past pain. The primal drumming that precedes the upbeat electronic organ refrain is a set piece that returns again and again on Wounded Rhymes, brandishing an element of militant control and driving the songs forward. There’s plenty of pop sensibilities to suggest that this is very much Li’s music, but there’s certainly a new sense of anger here too, and Li’s violent imagery in lines such as “so come on honey blow yourself to pieces/ oh come on honey lose yourself completely” show off this recently-acquired aggression with precision.

Over the last few months a number of tracks have been slowly trickled out as album teasers, yet none were as salaciously received as ‘Get Some’ back in November. Given that Li has said in the past that she was unhappy with her debut’s often kneejerk description as girly or cutesy, it comes as no surprise that this provocative, powerful song was chosen as the first to be released. ‘Get Some’ caused a something of a stir with its lyrics “don’t pull your pants before I go down” and “like a shotgun needs an outcome/ I’m your prostitute, you’re gonna get some.” Some were surprised at this apparently filthy outburst, but it’s not exactly the first time Li has shocked with her sultry lyrics, as ‘Little Bit’ and its line “and for you I keep my legs apart…” exemplifies. It may well be dominating and powerful, with thundering kettle drums announcing its arrival, but it signals a complete change in direction for Li, and one that accurately demonstrates her increased evolution as a songwriter and a performer.

The singer has said before that ‘Love Out Of Lust’ is her own favourite song to perform live, and through its recorded incarnation on the album it is clear to see why. Beautiful and haunting, it masterfully showcases Li’s soulful voice to absolute perfection. While ghostly electronic whistles hover in the background during the chorus, Li exhibits her ability to hit high head notes as well as the low, resounding melodies that scatter ‘Love Out Of Lust’ and other softer tracks, such as ‘Jerome’ and ‘I Know Places’, in the beautiful saturated melancholy that the record exudes.

Wounded Rhymes may be an album shrouded in heartbreak and regret, but this isn’t a quiet, reserved album full of banal balladry: this is a full-throttle explosion of sentimentality, exposed most evidently in tracks like ‘I Follow Rivers’ and ‘Rich Kid Blues’. Yet there are smatterings of calm amongst the clamour of anguish and the album benefits from the clever placement of songs – the juxtaposition of softness with wild percussion making each muted moment and every shudder of synths all the more distinct. ‘Unrequited Love’ is one such song. Almost acoustic, save for the soft strums of a sole guitar and the occasional ticking percussion, the one thing on display here is Li’s voice and her raw, devastating lyrics. With the orchestration turned down low, Li’s words “oh our love has gone divided/ oh my love is unrequited” speak stridently while the repetitive choral bridge of “shoo-wops” drench the song in nostalgia and allude to a more classical pop influence. This 60s retrospective is visited once again with ‘Sadness Is A Blessing’, as the opening chords of a Hammond organ lead into Lykke’s lyrics about the album’s titular ‘Wounded Rhymes’ while Li and a female chorus sorrowfully lament “sadness is a blessing/ sadness is a curse/ sadness is my boyfriend/ oh sadness I’m your girl.”

Prolonged foghorn-like bass notes signal the start of ‘Silent My Song’, the album’s closing track. Once again tribal drums exist to advance the pace as the repetitive verses crescendo with the subtle acquisition of voices and instruments such as an almost inaudible glockenspiel. Fitting with the song’s title, this momentum gradually grinds to a halt, concluding with an a capella closure. It’s this stop/start pace and volume amongst and within the individual tracks that keeps Wounded Rhymes thoroughly interesting and inventive. It’s primal, it’s provocative and it’s pure of heart, and whether she sings tenderly or battles alongside the plethora of percussion, the one thing that shines throughout the entirety of the album is Li’s phenomenally diverse voice.

While Lykke Li has slowly been building an army of adoring fans over the last few years, up until now she hasn’t quite garnered the same attention and widespread fame as her home country contemporaries such as Robyn and Fever Ray. With the release of the frankly superb Wounded Rhymes this looks set to change dramatically.