You know the old cliché – when an artist puts out a self-titled record, it’s based around a new-found sense of self-discovery, self-worth or purpose. Unlike, say, Interpol’s attempt to combat their increasing sense of redundancy, Marnie Stern very much works as a statement of identity; after Stern’s debut set out her stall, and its follow-up injected some much-needed levity and hooks into proceedings, this record almost seems to be less about the music, and more about the woman behind it.

Opener ‘For Ash’, a eulogy for an old friend who passed away, bears all the trademarks of your typical Marnie jam: cluttered, claustrophobic production, clattering drums (courtesy, as ever, of Zach Hill), and Stern’s distinctively girlish whine. However, it would seem that she’s finally learned how to put all of these elements into the right order. The arrangement veers off in all sorts of directions – breakbeats under double-dutch jumprope chants, stadium-shaped anthemics and ultra-loveable polyrhythmic pop – but never loses its melodic soul or emotional heart. When Stern sings in the chorus “I cannot bear, no one compares, I miss your smile, sadness all the while,” it may look like a string of half-formed thoughts and sentiments, but that’s what grief is and, as one of the most direct lines she’s yet commited to tape, you can tell she really, really means it.

It’s this emotional force that separates Marnie Stern from its predecessor; sure, This Is It… and In Advance of the Broken Arm had their fair share of arms aloft moments and thought-provoking inspirational lyrics (“THE-FU-TURE-IS-YOUR-SELF-FILL-THIS-PART-IN!”), but with the music given the space to breathe, tracks like the breathy ballad ‘The Things You Notice’ (The xx with balls, heart and a distortion pedal) and the stuttering ‘Cinco de Mayo’ pack that much more of a punch, Stern’s nuanced vocal style only having to jostle with one or two riffs at once, as opposed to the usual twelve. If nothing else, it’ll all be a helluva lot easier for her to reproduce live. Even the album as a package seems that much tighter – only ten songs in 35 minutes – leaving no room for filler or sprawl which, with a sound this distinctive, is always a risk, no matter how long you make your records.

While not as all-out catchy as This Is It…, Marnie Stern may just be her defining statement to date. It’s a record of an artist brimming with (as one track would have it) ‘Her Confidence’, finally transcending her more obvious influences and truly coming into her own – when you listen to a Marnie Stern record, it’s impossible to mistake just who it is you’re listening to, and that’s a rare thing nowadays. Marnie Stern is the sound of Marnie Stern, and no one else.