Pete Doherty may still be best known as the main man with The Libertines, but he slips into his minstrel robes on Felt Better Alive, his first solo record in nine years.

There’s evidence of Francophilia throughout, including opener ‘Calvados’, a love letter to his adopted home of Normandy, its farmers’ wives, country lanes and apple brandy. It’s a baroque, detailed, and clearly genuinely sincere track – qualities which, along with some Sgt. Pepper-style whimsy, could sum up much of the album.

There’s a tender lullaby in ‘Pot Of Gold’ and he plays a Britpop bard on ‘The Day The Baron Died’ (a theatrical reworking from the last Libertines record), conjuring images of bejewelled claws with the help of a lovely, Beatles-y guitar solo.

There’s some ragtime-country swagger on the title track; and it’s there too on ‘Ed Belly’, which depicts a shady, drifting character marooned in a motel room.

‘Stade Océan’ aims for something heavier, but I expected more from the vocals than is delivered. But ‘Poca Mahoney’s’ on which Lisa O’Neill adds a potent snarl on the chorus is different class, shining a light through the blinds of the crack-house the track is set in.

‘Empty Room’ finds Doherty alone again, crooning lyrics that ebb between bittersweet and uplifting, providing a sweet closer.

As ever, Doherty’s poetry spills out between the cracks. Felt Better Alive is a fine addition to his canon.

7/10

Out now