Out of the flourishing New York post-punk revival scene of the mid-2000s, LCD Soundsystem became known as one of its most off-the-wall outfits. The band were bending the sound towards the synthetic aesthetics of dance music, whilst penning socially conscious and introspective lyrics with an Urkel-esque nerdiness. But while their self-titled debut was more rooted in a gritty, lo-fi sound, Sound Of Silver presents a pristine and full-bodied sonic across the record, employing clean, computerised beats to rub against the grimy guitars. This resulted in commingled jams akin to “Us V Them”, a seven-minute machine fitted with a scatty, infectious beat that is littered with cowbell and guitar. Tension builds with repeating vocal lines that escalate higher and higher, until the glorious payoff detonates with an anthemic hook backed by the rattling, rollicking percussion. Moments like these, along with stories of the band wrapping their equipment in silver foil in order to perfect the literal “sound of silver”, highlight the level of painstaking attention given to arranging a perfect meeting of man and machine — this album feels meticulously crafted.

Though frontman James Murphy is rife with a similar cynical outlook to that jerky record store employee, his sceptical mind provides hints of personal, exigent thoughts and feelings across the record, too. The heart-wrenching dirge “Someone Great” laments the death of unknown companion to James, though it is theorised to be his late therapist, to which the album is dedicated to. A benevolent bass stands shoulder-to-shoulder with reverberating glockenspiel and Murphy’s shimmering, echoing vocals; the song is as comforting as it is despondent.

Sound Of Silver was birthed at a tempestuous time for the USA, specifically New York. The number of tragedies and conflicts the US had to deal in the first 7 years of the new millennium is plentiful, and Michael Bloomberg’s mayor-ship of the Big Apple resulted in the expediting of gentrification in the city. While many of the things and people that made the city special to him were being eradicated, Murphy still had love for the city that he had called home for the lesser part of two decades. At the album’s endpoint lies his expression of this by way of the Broadway-style punk ballad “New York I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down”, a bitter love song dedicated to NYC. It begins with a slow plod, allowing the spotlight on James to shrivel in the remnants of his fallen city; “you were filthy but fine”. Like a shotgun blast, however, the track explodes with exuberant drums and trashing guitar strikes, as James wrestles with accepting that his iteration of New York is gone. This reaches a boiling point, to which the plummets back down, and ends on a plangent note, as we realise that Murphy has accepted the death of a place he once called home.

The album has plenty more to offer across its 9 tracks, it would be immoral not to mention Murphy’s joyous paean to youth and growing, “All My Friends”. Sound Of Silver masterfully chains the febrile post-punk sound and ethos of bands like Talking Heads with the rhythm-building of dance music — proving them more than mere revivalists.