What the world needs now is a female indie icon

Just two years ago the future was looking rosy for the indie chick. The Gossip's Beth Ditto, she of the pink lycra catsuit and howling vocals, had been declared the coolest person in rock by the NME. Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs seemed on the cusp of greatness, marrying in-your-face punk pop with a kooky fashion sensibility. Lily Allen was at the top of the charts, a potty-mouthed popstrel in prom dress and trainers. But somewhere it all went wrong.

Ditto has gradually faded from view, the novelty of a plus-sized, knicker-flashing, loud-mouth lesbian fronting a band presumably having worn off. The swell of excitement that accompanied Allen's first outing has since gone flat, with her every expletive-filled internet outpouring now greeted with an exasperated sigh rather than a delighted smile. And wherefore art thou, Karen O?

Now, it seems, we have a different kind of girl flying the rock'n'roll flag. This year has seen the inexorable rise of Adele, the south London purveyor of white-girl retro-soul, and Duffy, the Welsh songstress intent on resurrecting the spirit of Dusty Springfield. Both of them are accomplished singers, no question, but the real deal? Alas, no. They might have a few catchy singles under their belts but their music is wilfully undemanding, and neither is abundant in the personality department. Amy Winehouse, with her spiky lyrics and unique style, might have been a contender were her time not taken up smoking crack and – if the latest reports are to be believed – defending her cat from drug-crazed hangers-on.

Thus, there's a gap in the market, a musical vacancy that, were it advertised, would read: "Female indie icon required. Candidate must have wit, style, personality and, where possible, the ability to sing. Stage school graduates need not apply."

Step up, then, Kate Jackson, lead singer of the Sheffield quintet The Long Blondes and indie pop's foremost lady in waiting. This week Jackson finds herself at a career crossroads. After suffering a stroke in June, the Long Blondes' guitarist Dorian Cox is in long- term recovery and the remaining members of the band have opted not to continue without him. Although Jackson is not ruling out a reunion when Cox is recovered, she has said she is now looking to start a solo career. Talking on BBC 6 Music she said: "I'm just beginning but I think it will reflect my personal music taste a bit more than The Long Blondes, which was a collaborative thing ... A lot of the influences will overlap so hopefully fans of The Long Blondes will like what I do."

Earlier this year the rock critic Andrew Harrison coined the phrase "indie landfill" to describe of the glut of all-male, floppy-haired, four-piece bands with guitars that have spread across the scene like bindweed. It's not overstating matters to say that Jackson could be the antidote. To use marketing speak, she's the complete package: smart, vibrant, beautiful, witty, and with a great wardrobe to boot. Her aesthetic – black bob, jaunty beret, pencil skirt, killer heels – is part Katharine Hepburn, part Joan Jett. Jackson herself has dubbed it "glamorous punk" and it's a style that is already being replicated by fans at gigs. At live gigs she is fabulous– full of haughty glamour one minute, shy and coquettish the next.

As for her voice, well, it isn't perfect, which is precisely what makes it great. Not for her the pure pitch and vocal loop-the-loops of Adele or Duffy. Jackson has been described by critics a "tuneful foghorn" and "like Elsie Tanner in musical form". Her sound is uncompromising and passionate, with a hint of vulnerability. Her songs are brash, funny and opinionated. "Nineteen, you're only 19 for God's sake, you don't need a boyfriend," she rails in "Once and Never Again", a no-nonsense cry for teenage female empowerment.

During the Nineties, Jackson had posters of Elastica's Justine Frischmann on her bedroom walls. She also claims kinship with fellow Sheffield tunesmiths Pulp and art-rock outfits such as Roxy Music and Blondie. Certainly, Jackson has much in common with Debbie Harry – a unique sense of style, an ear for a melody and a feminine mystique that reduces men to mawkish puddles.

The Long Blondes began life in Sheffield in 2003, the product of five university friends' shared interest in music, film and fashion. Over the next three years they released a series of singles on tiny labels (some of which they are releasing on Monday on a compilation CD of the early pre-Rough Trade songs, including the A- and B-sides of their first four singles and bonus tracks). Before landing their record deal, they also toured Europe while holding down day jobs (Jackson worked in a vintage clothes shop, and drove the band's tour bus). Reviewers raved about their gigs, they landed a support slot with Franz Ferdinand and Jackson was voted the 39th coolest person in rock by the NME. For a brief period, The Long Blondes found themselves trumpeted all over the music press and even appeared in Vogue. All this before they had even found a record deal.

Finally, they signed to Rough Trade and released their debut LP Someone To Drive You Home in late 2006. The sleeve, by Jackson, showed Faye Dunaway leaning on a getaway car in Bonnie and Clyde. Earlier this year they released the paean to disco-punk "Couples". An album about relationships and infidelity, it offered ways to make your ex-boyfriend jealous and told of murky encounters in nightclubs. It also saw Jackson embracing her sinful side – "I'm going to hell so I might as well make it worth my while," she sighed. As a lyricist, she's not yet Jarvis Cocker but there's enough kitchen-sink wryness to imagine that she could one day come close.

Neither of The Long Blondes' albums have set the charts alight – the first got to No 44 while the second went in at an unremarkable 48. Having peaked too early, the band remained outsiders, beloved of a dedicated few but ignored by the masses.

If pop years are like dog years then at 29 Jackson has already hit middle age, although this could work to her advantage. She has trawled enough toilet venues and been turned away by enough record companies to know that success doesn't come on a platter. While teenage pop poppets have a habit of burning out early, women nearer their thirties are less likely to have their heads turned by success. It's significant that Madonna didn't have her first hit until she was 26, while Alison Goldfrapp didn't hit her pop stride until she was well into her thirties.

But let's not get carried away. Jackson has her work cut out just making her mark in a scene dominated by monosyllabic men in pointy shoes and skinny jeans. She herself has noted in interviews that indie music is a boys' club, and while there are plenty of bands fronted by women, from Tilly and the Wall and Ida Maria to Florence and the Machine, they frequently fail to make a lasting impact.

So what does the future hold for Jackson? She could follow the path of Sophie Ellis Bextor, who left credible indie hopefuls theaudience to make candy-coated dance-floor pop, and made a fortune in the process. But Jackson is more punk princess than pop princess. If she stays true to her roots, she could create a lasting legacy, as well as a mountain of cash.

The Long Blondes's compilation album 'Singles' is out on Angular Recordings on Monday

Beth ditto: Faded Star
The Gossip singer has a powerful voice and was hailed the number one person in rock'n'roll in the 2006 'NME' cool list. There's little scope for improving on that, and the 200lb lesbian-and-proud-of-it Ditto laid her cards on the table when she appeared naked on the cover of 'NME' last year.

Duffy: Fame-shy
In the contest for biggest female star, dislike of fame might pose a problem. A recent interview the 24-year-old Welsh singer gave to the 'Western Mail' ("I'm borderline on a nervous breakdown. Can I handle this? Do I want to disappear?") points to a classic case of too-much-too-soon.

Adele: Too bland
Hyped to the hilt with a Brit Award in 2007 before she'd even released her debut album '19', young Adele gained all manner of plaudits. But her vocals, the kind that win TV talent contests, and the comparisons to Amy Winehouse, hinder her from becoming the greatest female star as was predicted.