KEITH Richards might not remember the Seventies, but he’s definitely never lost track of what he’s here for.

The Human Riff is one of the most gloriously unpretentious rockers ever to emerge from these or any other lands; if becoming something of a caricature has ever bothered him, he doesn’t show it. Watch him coaxing magic from his guitar and tearing up stages at the age of 71, and you might think it’s due to the sheer joy of just still being around, before you realise that such sentiment has probably never even occurred to this half of The Glimmer Twins. He does it because it’s what he was put on a planet to do.

And on Crosseyed Heart, Richards’ first solo album in 23 years – how many music careers have both started and ended in the intervening period? – he’s doing it very, very well. It’s a rare example of a record made for the sheer pleasure of its maker which also works as a crowd-pleaser.

Want Stones-esque barnstormers without the rest of the Stones present? Richards gives you Blues In The Morning and Heartstopper. Want country balladry? See Robbed Blind, one of Crosseyed Heart's best demonstrations of the dry Richards wit. Want sheer, unabashed Keef brilliance? Slap on the swaggering Trouble or the exquisite Nothing On Me, the latter track being as autobiographical as anything Richards has ever put down on paper. Oh, and you’ve got blues and reggae thrown in as well, whether you want them or not. You probably did.

It seems churlish to suggest that Richards’ voice isn’t perhaps the best, but given that he hasn’t exactly spent the last half-century undergoing stringent vocal coaching and keeping a stock of Strepsils handy, it’s doubtful that anyone expected otherwise.

Anyway, smooth singing would probably just have damaged this album. Eccentric, interesting, sometimes erratic, forged by experience, and very feelgood, it’s Keith Richards in all his ragged glory. And that’ll do nicely.