Pete Doherty dazzles with a delightful and tumultuous portrayal of newfound home life in Felt Better Alive.

Following the triumphant comeback of The Libertines last year with their lively album All Quiet on the Eastern Esplanade (which surprisingly topped the UK charts over Beyonce’s Cowboy Carter), Pete Doherty continues his creative streak with a solo project that reveals a softer side. Felt Better Alive showcases a whimsical collection of endearing songs, accompanied by elegant strings, a nostalgic trumpet, and even a clarinet solo. In “Pot of Gold”—a piece dedicated to his young daughter—the once wild Doherty croons: “Hush my darling, oh don’t you cry/ Daddy’s trying to write you a lullaby/ And if that lullaby’s a hit, Dad can buy you loads of cool gifts/ And forget about the times they tried to push me out of town.”

This album features several nods to The Beatles, from the gently moaning electric guitar in “The Day The Baron Died” to the “Rain”-like rolling bass line in “Stade Ocean,” and the cheerful nursery rhyme vibe of “Out of Tune Balloon.”

Doherty’s retreat to rural France for rehab echoes Paul McCartney’s escape to the Isle of Mull after The Beatles disbanded. McCartney once claimed that during his time on the Scottish farm with his family, he learned “to be a man” through DIY tasks. Worn out by the frenzy of fame, he later reflected on that period in the late 1970s as a time of rediscovering “simplicity” and the “freedom to explore.” This rejuvenation allowed his melodies to flow freely, albeit with more childlike charm than before. Doherty seems to have found a similar path, now drug-free and happily settled with his wife and daughter, enjoying the musical inspirations present in “l’air francais.”

Much like their 46-year-old composer, these new songs oscillate between charm, wit, tenderness, and at times, an obnoxious bravado. Initially, I was skeptical of the acoustic strumming in the lead single “Calvados.” Was Doherty’s tribute to the idyllic Normandy farmer (and “the farmer’s wife picking her teeth with a pocket knife”) somewhat patronizing? Yet, the irresistible hook and the imagery of hard work behind creating “liquid gold” draw you in. Interestingly enough, Doherty still indulges in alcohol, making it even more intriguing to hear him mention “Fingee” (a slang term for heroin) on a track that transitions from conversational verses to dreamy, saxophone-infused choruses, capturing the tension of the narrative.

Doherty’s charisma brings his experiences to life—despite the occasional lack of narrative clarity, he makes you feel connected to his world. Irish singer-songwriter Lisa O’Neill offers a sharp contrast to Doherty’s playful menace on “Poca Mahoney’s,” which features characters like a drug dealer and a dysfunctional priest. She injects a sense of urgency with the line, “my little soul was five years old,” adding gravity to his whimsical storytelling. A sleazy fairground organ accompanies a narrative about seaside rituals, while echoes of the old civil war song, “When Johnny Comes Marching Home,” reverberate through the spaghetti western-inspired title track.

Regardless of whether Doherty’s daughter desires “loads of gifts,” it seems clear that he may have another hit on his hands.