Hands up anyone who thought, if only for a moment, that Mike Skinner might have run out of things to write about? Two years ago, when the Streets’ third album The Hardest Way to Make an Easy Living appeared, the prognosis was about as buoyant as Joey Barton’s chances of leaving football to become a UN goodwill ambassador.

However Skinner tried to rationalise the reception afforded to that grisly chronicle of his own narcotic post-fame comedown, the Amazon resale index never lies. Hence, in 2008, Skinner’s unenviable job is to follow an album that currently changes hands for about £1.80. Ah, but how, exactly? By going back to what he did before? The man who built the Say-What-You-See Academy of Kitchen-Sink Popsmiths for the likes of Arctic Monkeys, Lily Allen and Kate Nash can hardly, at the age of 31, enrol himself there now.

But then, neither, it turns out, does he need to. For clues concerning the genesis of this thoughtful record you could do worse than go straight to its closing song The Escapist. Ostensibly about someone leaving prison, Skinner’s words revel – like much of what precedes it – in the simple, sensory joy of living.

So far, so happy-clappy – except that Everything is Borrowed isn’t really like that at all. Meatier arrangements played by actual musicians fill out almost every song. A plaintive violin bookends On the Flip of a Coin, a parable whose narrative resembles a French art-house short far more than anything you might associate with the self-styled geezer of yore. It starts with a father raising his son to live his life on a heads-or-tails basis, then climaxes with a near-fatality at the beach and an intergenerational philosophical showdown.

Pretentious? You’d think so, but Skinner’s mockney Brummois retains all its congeniality. On Alleged Legends and On the Edge of a Cliff you can apprehend the enforced solitude of Skinner’s posthedonism regime (he’s taken to long-distance running and walking). Driving his train of thought between blood-thickening pipe organ and a brittle intermittent rhythm, in the former he seeks to reclaim a sense of wonder for Dawkinistas everywhere, while the latter, in its own Brit-hop way, evokes the cosmic cogitations of the Chicago rapper Common.

Among all this protracted chin-stroking, I Love You More (Than You Like Me) – the quintessentially Skinner-esque title – sounds throwaway by comparison. But, even when phoning it in, he can still leave a charming lyrical vapour trail: “I drew a drawing of you after (the) last time I saw you/ I learnt a lot about myself drawing all morning it was absolutely shit, I’m awful at drawing.”

Explaining the inspiration behind Heaven for the Weather, Skinner revealed that he pinched the chord sequence from Patti Smith’s Horses. That Mike Skinner is now listening to Patti Smith suggests that, while still the vessel for his rampant creativity, the Streets may start to feel like its anchor. That the next album is apparently to be his last as the Streets suggests he may agree. Right now though, he has surpassed himself with his most assured album yet.

To order The Streets - Everything is Borrowed for £12.99 call 0845 6026328 or click here to order online.

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