It’s probably fair to say there aren’t a huge number of successful country singers who come from South Africa rather than South Carolina, have joined the cast of Cabaret on Broadway, been a guest judge on Ru Paul’s Drag Race, and usually perform covering their face with a fringed mask.

Since his 2019 self-produced debut album Pony and a series of festival, TV and radio appearances first brought him critical attention, Orville Peck’s unique stage persona has helped establish the musician, now LA based, as a genuine star, with duets alongside Willie Nelson, Kylie Minogue and Elton John now on his burgeoning CV alongside two further well-received albums.

For some though, there is a lingering question over whether Peck is a classic case of style over substance, an artist whose novelty value has elevated an otherwise unexceptional talent. With his new album Mule, the 38-year-old has set out to silence the doubters.

Mule is a searingly honest, sometimes wryly humorous account of the breakdown Peck experienced during 2023, a period of extreme heartache and self-destruction during which he split up with his partner of four years, spiralled into copious drinking and drug use, overdosed and nearly died. Now sober for three years, he wrote the songs on Mule as a chronological account of his journey.

What makes Mule stand out from Peck’s earlier records is the sense of thematic cohesion and the confidence of his voice and arrangements. It’s evident immediately on the opening Prologue (Eulogy Of A Man Turned Mule) which features the sweet a cappella harmonies of Emmylou Harris, Noah Cyrus (brother of Miley), and Allison Russell, with Peck himself initially absent. The trio of country heavyweights fulfil the role of Macbeth’s three witches, prophesising how a man being as stubborn as a mule can ultimately lead to their demise.

From second track Big Ol’ House, Peck himself takes centre stage, and the early tracks on the album catalogue the hedonistic lifestyle which drove Peck to the edge following the break-up of his long-term relationship. The tales of endless parties and excess then segue into Rehab Blues, in which Peck vividly describes the austere regime he experienced in a recovery clinic: “They’re always knocking at the door / You get a bed but you use the floor / They watch you take your pills, no thrills, no tv after nine.”

Further tales of relapses follow before the wistful, sparse ballad The Fall, with Peck’s rich baritone voice accompanied by slide guitar and violin, sees the singer finally reflecting on how his life has fallen apart: “You used to tell me we’d get through it all / We were flying, how could we have seen the fall?”

From this point on, the mood becomes more redemptive and lighter, as Peck emerges from the storm and starts to find joy again. The lovely, lilting bluegrass of The Breeze, The Grass, The Mourning Dove and Me best encapsulates this shift, as well as having the catchiest melody on the record.

Much of Mule is polished but unremarkable country rock and blues, well arranged and performed, but not especially memorable, for all its creator’s efforts to bare his soul. Peck is at his best when he slows things down and lets his songs breathe.