Rain-soaked lovers; galaxy-straddling astronauts; the dawn's early light; the late night taxi; the broken hearted people; the reawakened dreams; and through it all, casting a warm, twinkling eye from above, the stars. This is Ken Sweeney's world. And it's a wonderful place to be.

It's been too long since we were last there. Seven years, in fact. Back in 1992, the one and only member of Brian (in a very literal sense) released what can only be described as thirty of the most literate, heartfelt, and melodious minutes in the Irish rock pantheon - the classic Understand. And promptly followed it with the evergreen Planes EP. Another unsung hero was born.

Since then, his record company, Setanta, has evolved from a low-key shoestring enterprise whose remit was to sneak out often exceptional records into the relatively indifferent ether, to a highly respected business proposition which has made a star of Neil Hannon and a Laughing Lazarus out of Edwyn Collins, all the while continuing to support its less commercially viable and publicly visible acts. But with the Divine Comedy having flown the coop to EMI, Setanta are hoping Brian can recoup the loss. And listening to Bring Trouble, it's hard to see how it could fail.

The opening salvos of 'We Close 1-2' (the mooted first single) and 'Turn Your Lights On' aim for pure pop nirvana by taking the saccharine out of the Lightning Seeds and replacing it with an altogether rarer and more precious ingredient: soul. The former is a tale of office tedium and the temporary respite of lunch hour. But in honing in on the small, seemingly insignificant details - in this case, the plastic plants, the scribbled work messages on the wall, the fax machine - Sweeney is paradoxically painting the bigger picture; hinting at wider truths, inferring the universal from the particular.

'We Close' isn't just a gripe about hating your job; it asks: what are you living for? and also, what is it that makes the unbearable things in life bearable? 'Turn Your Lights On' answers the question; it is, of course, the immense beatitude of loving and being loved: "Lights dance over Outback towns/Meteorites fall/Without any sound/All man-made things must come back to earth/I've fallen in love again."

'This Kitchen, 5am' is next, a short, sharp sun-burst, which is as blissfully tuneful as, say, the Go-Betweens's 'Streets Of Your Town' and as unconventionally poetic as the Blue Nile's 'Easter Parade'. Is this a hit single I see before me?

'On A Roll' is yet another optimistic, love-affirming song with chiming guitars and the cherubic string section of the High Llamas undulating in the background. But the second half of the album sees things take a change in direction, both lyrically and musically. 'Getting Meaner' and 'Right Through Tuesday' are closer in spirit to earlier Brian records, which deal with the cyncism and hard-heartedness brought by time's arrow; and that wretched, sinking feeling that follows a relationship irretrievably going down the Swanney.

The title track and the closing 'Wherever We're Going' bring things to a happy conclusion, all the more appreciated for being so hard won. And with that, Ken Sweeney's comeback is complete. His return is a triumph for those who believe sensitivity and sincerity to be virtues worth treasuring, and poetic pop music an art form worth pursuing.