LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver review - For Guardian Favourite Albums Section

It was a track from LCD Soundsystem's first record that so accurately, and with razor sharp wit, surmised the affectations of the all-knowing hipster. The people who moved in exclusive circles, driven along by the sense of their own self-importance.

"I hear that you and your band have sold your guitars and bought turntables. I hear that you and your band have sold your turntables and bought guitars," Murphy scoffed, with dismissive sarcasm. A feigned sense of being impressed.

Ironic then, that at around this time, in an increasingly homogenised era for music, this maligned crossover; i.e. the electronic influence on guitar music, became more and more prevalent as the decade wore on. The sound of four white indie boys with nice melodies and guitars and drums, suddenly sounded outdated and uninspiring.

James Murphy’s great achievement is making a record that has great crossover appeal. It works just as well as a disco-inspired freak-out record, as it does as an album to listen to with headphones on the last bus home. An album just as likely to be loved by dance-floor seeking clubbers as guitar band obsessed kids with floppy fringes.

There are songs about mistaken nationality, (North American Scum), about break ups ('Someone great’), about the draining experiences of urban dwelling (‘New York I love you, but you’re bringing me down.‘) And there is 'All my friends;' A song that seems to be about how the desire to be a part of the cutting edge results in a loss of touch with a more important thing; companionship. It’s the assertion that "You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends again." This notion of becoming increasingly isolated by the desire to remain relevant and subversive. The end refrain of "If I could see all my friends tonight..." is as significant a line about the potential for a loss of touch with you your friends are in the club scene that has ever been asserted.

That so much can be drawn from the songs on an album that is essentially one that makes you want to dance is testament to its greatness. From the building rhythms and a singular syncopated piano chord on the opening track "Get Innocuous!" the music is as infectious as you could hope for. It is a record that you want to play as loud as possible. One that you want to jump around your bedroom to like an idiot. But it is also one that explores serious ideas of isolation and getting older, themes never usually appropriated for dance music. Here is a record that is playful but sincere; humorous but poignant. Pulling off these paradoxes so successfully, with music of such quality as this, is simply a magnificent feat.