Early in the recording of Sleater-Kinney’s visceral and moving new album, guitarist and singer Carrie Brownstein was informed that her mother and stepfather had died in a car crash in Italy. Little Rope is suffused in the raw shock of her grief.

The keening comes through on single ‘Hell’, a coiled post-punk belter that compares the hazy months of early bereavement to a plunge into stygian depths (“Hell don’t have no future / Hell don’t have no doubt”). Demons of another sort are conjured on the rattling indie disco-pop of ‘Don’t Feel Right’.

Accompanied by tectonic guitars, the narrator, in the trenches of middle age, realises old certainties have melted away. Suddenly, they are living a stranger’s life – and unsure how to cope. These feelings are articulated by lead vocalist Corin Tucker. Her soulful, rafter-rattling style confirms her as one of the great singers in indie-rock. Yet her unfiltered delivery is clearly informed by Brownstein’s loss. Shock and sadness drip from the project’s every pore; the colour scheme is 50 shades of mournful.

Which isn’t to say Little Rope is glum or lethargic. All the way back to their days as leaders of the second wave of the Riot Grrrl scene in Olympia, Washington, Sleater-Kinney have gone to pains to pack a punch in their music. That remains the case on this extraordinary album, which sprints from visceral alt.pop (‘Say It Like You Mean It’) to gothic ballads (‘Untidy Creature’).

It would be gauche to claim suffering has made Brownstein and Tucker stronger. But they have impressively pushed through recent setbacks to deliver one of the finest LPs of their career.

8/10