With a title to end all titles, The Chronicles Of Marnia, Marnie Stern is back. This time around, she has dialled back the eclecticisms and pace on the LP, allowing for blazing melodies and halycon-ish fretwork to strut under the spotlight; this is in part due what Kid Millions brings to the table, who's a comparatively serene sticksman compared to Zach Hill, who defected to work exclusively with the controversial rap act, Death Grips. It's an invigorating twist on what we've come to expect from Stern, a tapping aficionado and fret-burning maestro with what sounds like thirty fingers. The result is an album, still full of eccentricity and noise-rock, but also buoyant with gaiety and summer sun.

'Year Of The Glad' exudes Big Roar-era Joy Formidable, with choppy samples, clarion vocals and axework as prickly as a bitter hedgehog. There are chunky chords and staccato gibberish splattered over the chorus. It's weird, but it's a gloriously grin-inducing slab of weird. 'Noonan' combines tribal rhythms and soaring tremolo to bring you something reminiscent of The Very Best minus brass – it begs you to swing your hips or pump fists. The track is endlessly uplifting, a real confidence booster – "Don't you wanna be somebody?/ Don't you wanna be?" isn't a put down, it's an injection of belief. 'Nothing Is Easy' shreds it's way to centre-stage, with Stern implementing her signature tapping style and marching through drumline rhythms. 'Immortals' is an stylistic sequel, with similar reams of tapping, but far beefier chords, Be Your Own Pet vocals and rambunctious percussion. It's apparent that this is an intensely lively album, full of kinetic energy and the power to get you off your keister and do something.

Though there are numerous comparisons, this isn't a derivative album by any means - the glimmers of familiarity bolster the endearing nature of Stern's music. Just because there are some line-up alterations doesn't mean there aren't still sonic altercations; the sounds Stern & Co. create are still pretty brash, maybe not as much as before, and perhaps slowed a little, but it's still a self-assured record with hefty clout and a dazzling mean streak. She's not gone completely soft on us. The guitar performances are stunning examples of her masterful command over the instrument, and though the noises aren't mimicking previous records, she doesn't go basic or let-up on the talentedness, each riff is still as punchy as ever.

The title track is a brawler, and far from advertising the prominence of pop on the album – of which there is a marked shift towards – it remains a stoic shanty with frantic vocals and folk-tinged rock. Stern is flippant with her pitch here, shifting on a whim; it's a great companion to the similarly flippant guitar. 'Still Moving' is imbued with prominent bass and lasagne-layers of guitar: some light, some meaty. It's a smoother cut than much of The Chronicles Of Marnia, providing nice contrast to some of the more angular moments (although there are still plenty here). Potentially the biggest highlight, with an intro ripped from Yeah Yeah Yeahs' maps, is 'East Side Glory', a rock-waltz comprising lullaby coos and jittery strumming. It's devilish in its allurement and lavish in its experimentations.

Marnie Stern has thrilled us for years with her fretwork and charming rock. None of that has changed here. Yes, there's a poppier gloss than her diehard fans are possibly used to, but all that's changed - and it's not even a particularly massive change - is her approach to the music. Things are snappier, more infectious, arguably simpler, but ultimately just as rewarding. She's always been a legend on the six-string and a fascinating songsmith, but just because she's chilled out and scattered a few chart-poised hooks, doesn't mean she should be lambasted. This is the same old brand new Marnie.