Robyn Robyn

Holy comebacks, Batman! Hard to believe now, but at the turn of the century there was only one teen blondstrel armed with buckets of Max Martin songs that anybody gave a damn about, and it wasn't this here Ms Carlsson. Fast forward to 2007, however, and, while Britney's become a cautionary tale locked in mortal combat with the tabloids, Robyn's, by contrast, is a fairy story gushingly wheeled out by the adoring broadsheets. How on earth did that happen?

Inevitably, With Every Heartbeat has played a major role in this reassessment, and rightly so; with its insistent keyboard runs, awesomely yearning vocals and some of the most bristling minor-chord melancholia imaginable, it's one of the most compelling singles in recent memory. It's only a tiny fraction of the reason, though, since Robyn turns out to be an album that not only steps off the conveyor belt but then proceeds to lay into it with a mighty axe. It starts promisingly enough with the thrillingly absurd introducing-the-talent-fest Curriculum Vitae, a knowingly demented cousin of Kelis' Intro, and proceeds to grow richer with every left turn. Of which there are many.

Clearly, Robyn's spent her epic stay in the wilderness wisely, picking up a lot of the attitude and technophilia of the intervening electroclash explosion (notably, Peaches at her early best would've killed in a really foxy way for Konichiwa Bitches) but cultivating an even keener cherry-picking ear. So it is that the broken beats and relentless pitchshifting of Cobrastyle stray near paths wandered by Venetian Snares mere minutes before, Be Mine! flirts with being, of all things, a futurist Cyndi Lauper, while, excitingly, Should Have Known is as charmingly Prince-esque as Crash And Burn Girl is daftly Punk.

Moreover, With Every Heartbeat and the shattering piano-driven minimalism of Eclipse are almost red herrings, since so much of this album is suffused with joy. Yes, the lyrics are breathtakingly insouciant in places, and there's no shortage of braggadocio either, but this is hardly misplaced confidence. Robyn is the sort of genre-smashing, past-trashing album that dozens of one-time Popworld-friendly figures can barely even dream of making, and, as such, it's one of the most dynamic returns of the decade.