Going It Alone, and Getting Somewhere

At least so far, Richard Ashcroft is a tragic figure in British rock-and-roll. His old band, the Verve, had a massive 1997 hit in "Bitter Sweet Symphony," but its central hook was ruled to have sampled too liberally from a Rolling Stones song, so the Verve wound up giving all of its royalties to the Stones' old publishers. Not long after that, the band broke up, and its tall, skinny, leather-jacketed frontman has struggled to regain his fame ever since.

"Keys to the World," which hit No. 2 on the U.K. charts this year, is the 34-year-old Ashcroft's third and best attempt to build a major career as a singer-songwriter. Unlike on his meandering previous two albums, he finds his element immediately on the swaggering opener, "Why Not Nothing?," which has an upbeat shuffle recalling both Motown and the Velvet Underground. Ashcroft's nasal, world-weary, half-sneering voice lands somewhere between Tom Petty and Neil Diamond, and at one point on the opening track he gives one of those classic "aw-oh!" moans. Even on the slower stuff, he sounds like a rock star.

Ashcroft is a student of pop music history, particularly the bits about melody. He draws from '70s soul on the gently swinging "Music Is Power" and folk and country on "Sweet Brother Malcolm," which starts as a softly told tale about two very different British men in trouble, and segues in and out of a lush chorus. "Stay, sweet honey," he sings in the desperate, questioning breakup ballad "Why Do Lovers?," which sounds like the tortured love song Diamond should have included on his comeback album last year.

As "Bitter Sweet Symphony" would indicate, Ashcroft has a thing for big production -- he employs elaborate strings to boost the title track and bounces them off a horn section in "Simple Song." On "Break the Night With Colour," he leans on grand-piano chords for high drama, but he also delights in stripping songs down to their essence, particularly "Sweet Brother Malcolm," with its fragile lows and unexpected highs. The entire CD sounds great, with epic moments even in the most basic two-chord structures.

Ashcroft's soundscapes often mask his primary weakness: a predilection for cliches and throwaway lyrics that don't say much of anything. In "Words Just Get in the Way," he employs a deep and charmless voice and earnestly declares: "When your back's against the wall, and there's no one left to call, call on me." This is Bruce Springsteen territory, only without as much presence and conviction.

"Keys to the World" aspires to be one of those great, honest, occasionally painful rock albums -- almost like Neil Young's "After the Gold Rush" or Springsteen's "Darkness on the Edge of Town." Ashcroft doesn't quite get there, but his talent is undeniable and he's obviously onto something. He may have missed his moment the first time around, but this album sounds like he has no intention of missing it again.