I can't stop imagining this as a scene from the Presidents of the USA's 'Peaches' video, with the guy about to pounce, ninja-like, on Corin and chum.

Look, I don't mean to start an argument here, but there's something you've got to know. But first, a question. Who's your favourite band? And I don't mean who are you listening to a lot these days - I'm talking about the band who make the music you hold closest to your heart. The band who seem to know what's inside your soul, and inside your brain, and inside your heart, and possess the ability to captivate you like little else on this doomed little planet of ours can. That band. Who is it? you can have a minute to think about it. Go on. We'll wait.

Got it?

Yes, well, there's something you should know: Sleater-Kinney were four thousand times better than them. Your guys are rubbish.

No, it doesn't matter that you don't know who Sleater-Kinney are (although if you did recognise them as an extraordinarily great 90s-and-early-00s rock band, have this enthusiastic handshake). What does matter is that Corin Tucker, the incredi-voiced leader of the erstwhile power trio, is back from a four year exile with her first solo album, 1000 Years. And it is this thing: excellent.

It's rather significant that this is a solo album and not a Sleater-Kinney album - Tucker explores a lot of textures and ideas that would never have fit comfortably on a Sleater-Kinney record. Perhaps most noticeable to those familiar with Tucker's history is a newfound subtlety in her vocals, which were always the most divisive thing about her. Certain quarters have in the past insisted - so very wrongheadedly - that Tucker's voice is hard to stomach, too shrill and vigorous for their timid, pretty ears. And while they remain quite mistaken about that, her powerful vibrato is more restrained here than it has been before. Which has the welcome effect of making it all the more obliteratingly exciting when it kicks in, hip hip, hooray, etc.

Look into those eyes. And know fear.

You see, when "Doubt" was released to the blogosphere as a preview, it was a little bit misleading. It was a high-octane blast of power-punk, very much In The Style Of Sleater-Kinney. It was a fantastic reminder of exactly how good their music was. It's also one of maybe three songs that inescapably recall that band, along with "Half A World Away", which could have been taken from the One Beat album (to the point where one wonders if it's not a holdover left off the album for sounding too similar to the title track), and "Big Goodbye". The rest of it is as much influenced by Tucker's work with Cadallaca and Eddie Vedder as anything else.

Most strikingly new is the instrumentation: acoustic guitars, string arrangements (courtesy of multi-talented collaborator Seth Lorinczi), pianos... It's strangely disorienting at first to the experienced Tucker fan to hear her singing over anything other than duelling abrasive guitars and emphatic drums, but with a moment or two's endurance, you'll quickly realise how lovely it really is. "Dragon", for example, is completely different to anything she's recorded previously, with its acoustic guitar arpeggios and towering, string-laden chorus. And "Miles Away" sees Tucker playing the role of piano songstress (although it's not her playing the piano) lamenting a lost love.

Its totally okay to have a nerdy crush on her, right? Right? Right. Right?

The most strongly connected line you could draw between this and the latter Sleater-Kinney records would be the themes - maternal love, family, fear of loss, uncertainty. You can trace that back at least as far as "Sympathy". The uncertainty doesn't just run through the lyrics, either (although it does run very strongly indeed through the lyrics, especially "Thrift Store Coats": not a commentary on 90s alt fashion, but in fact a look at the effects of the economic crisis on - yup - families). The arrangements are rife with it - pulling in different directions and always liable to explode in a cathartic frenzy. Witness the crazed guitar noises at the end of "Handed Love", a freakout which, oddly enough, bring a touch of familiarity to a fascinatingly cold and distant song. Or the way "Pulling Pieces" falls apart around Tucker's exhortations, "Tell me why did you go and cut me to the bone... why did my story have to end?" Or the huge, blistering assault at the end of "Big Goodbye", where it drops any attempts at subtlety and turns into a beefy classic rock riff-a-thon, as Tucker cuts through the madness with the fabulous line, "It's too big a question for my tiny mind where we end up when we finally move on."

But that's so much expounding on a fundamental detail, as relevant to newcomers as it is to the Sleater-Kinney faithful: this is a thumpingly great rock album. Every song brings something new to the table; something exciting, sometimes even alarming. Like those Sleater-Kinney records, it uses the unmatchable ferocity of a rock n' roll song to hammer home some scary truths and honest emotions, while still giving plenty of room for air-punching triumphalism to the listener. I can't recommend 1,000 Years highly enough, and will likely fight you if you don't like it.

Al Byrne