Richard Ashcroft feels like he's been given a second chance. A father, husband, and solo artist, the man who used to front legendary space rock band the Verve is currently re-experiencing life as an up-and-coming musician with a promising career. "It feels like I'm playing to my fans again, and it feels like they've got me back," he recently said during a U.S. tour to support his first solo record, Alone With Everybody. Behind him is his "Mad Richard" persona, the arrogant rock god who suffered drug-related collapses, legal troubles, and a volatile relationship with bandmates - the same bandmates who rose with him to the No. 1 spot on the British charts in 1997. The Verve's final album, Urban Hymns, amended their status. In a moment they were catapulted from hot British act with a meager U.S. following to that ubiquitous radio band with the sexy singer and the Nike commercials.

But by the time "Bitter Sweet Symphony" was being used to urge people to "just do it," the Verve had split up for good. In fact Urban Hymns was for all intents and purposes Ashcroft's first solo record - until he once again hooked up with his childhood friend Nick McCabe; guitarist McCabe had gone his own way after the Verve's first demise in 1995.

Formed in Wigan, England, in 1990 and named for the American jazz record label Verve (which sued and forced them to add the "The"), the group sought to return rock 'n' roll to its former days of glory, transcendence, spontaneity, and, perhaps most significantly, debauchery. They succeeded on all counts. Frontman Ashcroft, who's the first to admit he can "rant better than the biggest cokehead," became notorious for his egotistical comments and irresponsible attitudes about drugs. The singer was so caught up in his own shamanistic pursuits, he spent 1994's Lollapalooza stint without shoes.

1995 was the year everything changed. Ashcroft and associates spent the early months in a Wales recording studio, tripping on Ecstasy and creating the tracks that would form the now-classic A Northern Soul. As winter approached he broke up the band and married Kate Radley, the keyboard player of fellow neo-psychedelic rockers Spiritualized.

By 1996 Ashcroft's songs were more along the lines of "The Drugs Don't Work" than "No Come Down." Slowly but surely the wild man was becoming domesticated. The Urban Hymns tour was carried off without McCabe, and it was followed by a fertile time of songwriting and marital bliss. Alone With Everybody was completed three days before Radley gave birth to their son, Sonny, and the album stands as a testament to the new peace of mind the brooding musician has found.

"A Song for the Lovers" and "You on My Mind in My Sleep" are the two most obvious tributes to love and marriage, while songs like "On a Beach" and "Everybody" document his reckoning with the past - particularly the latter, whose line "Everybody's gotta feel the weight of death sometimes" refers to him losing his father as an 11-year-old. The album's second-to-last track, "C'mon People (We're Making It Now)," might best sum up this new dad's newfound optimism: "Take my hand now, understand me, you can come here, too." If those aren't the words of a "Lucky Man" then what is?