The most striking dynamic of this first Alexander LP, one might argue, is its shift of Alexander Ebert’s music from the group “we” identities of his past to a new, solo “I” identity. It’s a shift inherent in debut solo albums by musicians brought to fame through their bands, but in Ebert’s case the leap is more stark than usual. Becoming known initially with Ima Robot in the early 2000s, Ebert’s star has risen higher in recent years – working under an assumed name designed to help him reclaim his lost identity – with ten-piece collective Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

Now, so much about this album screams “personal”. Symbolically, not only is Alexander self-titled, it’s self-titled on first-name terms; musically, every sound on every song is entirely Ebert’s own work. It’s easy to see these songs, then, if not as a document of Ebert’s recapturing of his identity, then at least as his most concerted effort to do so. The idea is most explicit on the odd but effective folk/hip-hop/spaghetti Western fusion that is lead single ‘Truth’, on which Alexander asks that that someone “tilt my chin back, slit my throat/take a bath in my blood, get to know me”.

Whilst that is a somewhat grotesque lyrical image, its delivery and its context within the song make it one of the most intriguing lines in a while. The lyric’s grimness is tempered not only by the song’s refrain, in which Alexander finds to his (and our) relief that his “darkness is shining”, but also by other developments in the wider album. Closer ‘Let’s Make a Deal Not to Make a Deal’, to take an extreme example, is the best example of Alexander’s confessed inspiration by “infectious and optimistic Disney tunes” and children’s clapping games – it is also more than a little reminiscent of the Beatles’ efforts at children’s songs, like ‘All Together Now’ or ‘Octopus’s Garden’.

More than a few other names from 60s pop classicism will spring to mind while listening to Alexander, and its consistently backwards-looking soundscapes may keep the record from true widespread acceptance. The larger part of Alexander’s audience, though, will appreciate the chance to identify his influences and homages – the happily thumping folk jangle of ‘In the Twilight’, for example, brings to mind the best of Simon & Garfunkel. That Alexander plays all of the instruments on songs as tightly constructed and vibrant as these is nothing short of awe-inspiring; his uses of clarinet on ‘Truth’ and violin on the otherworldly ‘Glimpses’ are idiosyncratic but sometimes preferable to a polished conventional performance. Elsewhere, our guide grapples with acoustic guitar, a Lowery organ “picked up at a St. Vincent’s thrift store in Los Angeles for seventy bucks” and a bewildering array of ramshackle percussion techniques.

On songs like the wonderful ‘Truth’ and ‘A Million Years’, Alexander approaches earning the “record of the summer” already lingering around it, but on other songs this is a tender, humble and introspective album. The more immediate tracks are absolutely ready-made for success, but it will be those who engage with all of the sides of Alexander Ebert’s new, solo self that will truly be rewarded. If an artist losing and attempting to reclaim their identity provokes the writing and performance of music as good as this, maybe it ought to happen more often.