In many ways, Lily Allen’s 2006 debut Alright, Still is an encapsulation of being a young person in Britain back in the early 2000s. Singles such as “Smile” and “LDN” were ubiquitous at the time, released when the London artist was just 21 years old, and still bring to life an age of chunky gold hoop earrings and brightly coloured Topshop dresses (paired, of course, with trainers). Beyond the nostalgia of its sound—bright, laidback ska-pop stylings, all taut basslines and exuberant brass flourishes—and visual identity, though, Alright, Still is also indicative of its time in another way: Allen found fame through uploading her songs onto the internet—an extremely early-2000s way of attaining music stardom. The story goes that Allen, the daughter of actor Keith Allen and film producer Alison Owen, was troubled at school, often expelled for drinking, smoking and other bad behaviour. But, in music and singing, she found a sense of meaning and began to record demos. Her eventual widespread acclaim on Myspace convinced her label to invest in her and commit to an album. But Alright, Still isn’t just a time capsule; it endures as a deeply impressive first album chock full of kitchen-sink tales of growing up in the city. Produced with Mark Ronson and Greg Kurstin (known best for his work with Adele), it’s a sleek listen with clever samples, sonic nods to classic R&B, squelchy reggae and even scratchy grime beats. But at the core of the record’s success are Allen’s deliciously frank and wry lyrics in her delicately intoned vernacular accent and conversational delivery—a style that influenced everyone from hyperpop auteur Charli XCX to Olivia Rodrigo. On Alright, Still, she also marks herself out as a captivatingly raw storyteller. Sometimes, she’s cheeky and forthright, as on “Knock ’Em Out”, in which she tries to escape unwanted attention in bars with lines like, “And, no, you can’t have my number, ’cause I lost my phone”. Other times, she’s quite beautiful in her candid simplicity, as with the astonishing end-of-relationship song “Littlest Things” (“We’d spend the whole weekend lying in our own dirt/I was just so happy in your boxers and your T-shirt”). Unfettered by the public perceptions and fame that would mark out her later work, Allen’s debut is a distinctive, feisty pop album. It’s as reminiscent as it is timeless.