It seems a lifetime ago that Bury St Edmunds’ finest (by way of Sheffield) Kate Jackson and her merry band of Pulp-alikes, The Long Blondes were adding a touch of indie nightclub glamour to the pages of NME.

Tragedy struck after the release of The Long Blondes’ second and, what would prove to be final album, Couples when band member and chief songwriter Dorian Cox suffered a stroke. The band went their separate ways and it seemed a certainty that Kate Jackson would go on to become a Debbie Harry meets Roisin Murphy indie disco queen. Despite collaborating with Bernard Butler on solo material at various points post break-up it seemed like it was never quite going to happen with the usual industry jiggery pokery getting in the way of Jackson’s art.

But it was art of an altogether different kind which Kate pursued in the meantime and it’s her stunning work you can see on the cover of her superior and finally-seeing-the-light-of-day debut solo album, British Road Movies.

Back with Bernard Butler to finish what they started, musically British Road Movies picks up where Couples left off with a similar Johnny Jewel sound associated with the synth noir of Glass Candy and The Chromatics very apparent. Thematically Kate revisits a theme first touched upon on The Long Blondes’ breakout track ‘Separated By Motorways’ – the British love/hate relationship with our roads.

Lead single ‘The End Of Reason’ takes a slip road from Little Boots’ ‘Motorway’ and drives us right onto Kraftwerk’s ‘Autobahn’ but with, of course, the usual indie twist we associate with Kate Jackson. There’s also a recurring theme in the push & pull of city versus countryside living. Similarly British Road Movies is about finding the beauty among the everyday ugliness of modern life. In that respect the album has much in common with LoneLady’s Hinterland, which explored the romantic side of derelict industrial Manchester. On ‘Metropolis’ Kate chants “this city pulls me to pieces” while on the upbeat ‘Wonder Feeling’ she finds the joy in both the motorway and railway station. On the delicious ‘Lie To Me’ Kate purrs like Anna Calvi taking on a bit of 60s French pop a la Brigitte Bardot. The pace slows for the final two songs on the record ending with the stark ‘Velvet Sofa From No 26’, on which Jackson demonstrates a subtlety to her vocals that we haven’t heard before and perhaps signifies a future change in direction.

Let’s hope it isn’t another eight years before we hear from Kate Jackson on record again, because on the strength of British Road Movies that would be the greatest of shames.

Check out all the latest music releases in our new album reviews section, including Gold Panda’s Good Luck and Do Your Best.