What must be understood about Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals is that they are a traveling band. They fit in no neat little pocket, in that true way that so many other acts claim to have discovered. They are neither rock, nor soul, nor acoustic, nor world. They are their own, and the act is extremely comfortable on their own after so many experiences and so many bonds between them.

Years on from the debut, Welcome to the Cruel World, this isn’t a revolutionary dimension away from all the songs in between. But why should it be? They clearly are their own masters, and are continuing in the ways they know best. And it’s a sweet mercy that they are, for it is as luscious the as flowers near a disused railroad track on a scented summer’s day.

Just another analogy gone too far? Well no, actually. Something deep within the band is a Traveler. Always looking for the road, always wild, untamed and natural. With the soulful dulcet tones close to Otis Redding, backed with a weaving, chilled, competent array of colourful music, you won’t realise how much you’ve missed them until you’ve returned to them, with tail between the legs and begging to be let back into their realm.

From the fourth track, ‘Needed You Tonight’, there is a distinct wallowing vibe of an unexpected sound: The Black Crowes. Not intentional - perhaps even a really awful faux pas in which a band that has been around for longer has been lumped in with a relative newcomer. But the rock soul is undeniable. There is a need for Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals to explore a way that is full and honest. Maybe it’s no surprise, then, that their record company boastfully comment that the entirety of this release was recorded in just seven days.

Despite the paradox, this album is in no rush, no urgency, with no wool pulled over the ears or eyes. The band are comfortable, whether they are on a state of stasis (such as the airy, weightless feel of ‘Younger Than Today’), or the vagabond theme ‘Fool For a Lonesome Train’.

This unapologetic display of doing what they want to do is best displayed in the most broken down and sparse section, which comprises of two songs, twinned by the emptiness and in balance with one another. These are the interpretational ‘Paris Sunrise’, and the final offering that is Ben Harper on his lonely lonesome, the song ‘Lifeline’. A very moving, unraveling journey of blood and words, it is one of those tunes in which people that do not listen to lyrics could easily understand that something highly emotional is going on, just by hearing how melancholy and heartfelt the tiny music is. And tiny it is, for there is the guitar, the vocals, and that is it.

A great journey, painting a landscape of a day in the life of a composer - and indeed a band — in tune with themselves. Infectious and sprinkled with a delicious sincerity that is rare to find, ‘Lifeline’ is a much-needed reminder to the cynic that there is hope after all.