Tricky knows that his first two albums were critically acclaimed. Tricky hears it all the time. He also knows that his newest album, Knowle West Boy, is being touted as a welcomed return, his first serving in quite some time of his distinctive, hyper-urban sound. But, frankly, all of this confounds him. “I haven’t been anywhere. I have been here all this time making music,” the eccentric Brit says. “Sure, maybe this one’s just more accessible. [But] just because the past few records I’ve been recording were more challenging doesn’t mean I’ve been anywhere else.”

Tricky (born Adrian Thaws) is on the phone from his home in London, the other being in Los Angeles. Apparently, he goes back and forth all the time due to his insatiable restlessness. In fact, Tricky reveals that he’s been globe hopping more often than not over the past few years. “I’m always traveling,” he says. “That’s what I’ve been doing. Traveling inspires me. When I’m in one place for too long, I stop looking around and noticing things.” Asia, he adds, is one of his favorite foreign destinations because it looks like another planet. And he doesn’t mean this as hyperbole. “I don’t recognize it at all,” he says. “It’s a totally different aesthetic. I feel when I’m there that I could be on Mars in the distant future.”

All this wanderlust is considerably strange when you realize that, paradoxically, his most recent release reveals a Tricky at his most localized. While some have critiqued the Bristol native’s lyrics for being ambiguous, this time the themes are both autobiographical and introspective. Even the album title itself alludes to revelation. “Knowle West is where I was born,” he says. “I grew up there in this ghetto very poor, not having much. Most kids from where I come from were troublemakers. We used to go out and rob. That’s what we did. We didn’t have money and we were up to no good.”

But poverty is only one factor in a difficult and troubling adolescence: Tricky’s father left before he was even born and his mother, Maxine Quaye, committed suicide when he was only 4. Young Tricky was left in the care of his grandmother. “If my mother didn’t commit suicide, if my father was there all the while, I wouldn’t sound the same,” Ticky explains. “I would be a totally different person. I accept that I was a problem child—I thought I was going crazy because I didn’t understand what I was. Now everything makes sense. I know who I am.

“This album feels like a beginning to me because I finally understand my personality,” Tricky continues. “A girl complains to me about not loving because I’m numb, and now I understand why I’m numb. Since my mother killed herself, and since my dad left me, I know why I’m numb. But I wouldn’t change who I am for the world.”

This kind of admission and newfound self-awareness is what makes Tricky a complex personality. It also gives an insight into his genre-defying music, which is simultaneously brutal and heartbreaking, sometimes industrial and sometimes wholly organic. However, throughout his catalogue, there’s nothing that sounds inauthentic. While he is known to collaborate with supremely talented female vocalists, the songwriter also adds his own voice to maintain the balance of beauty and abrasiveness. On opening track “Puppy Toy,” for example, the soulful Alex Mills dominates the chorus, but it’s Tricky’s raspy and gravelly voice that gives this song true distinction. “I wish I could sing. I have tried to sing, but I haven’t tried enough,” he admits in defeat. “But the lyrics are always, always mine.”

Another track, “Coalition,” is the musician’s foray into political songwriting. “Get your happy meal in your happy car,” he sneers over a gritty soundscape; another verse declares that “you can get killed by friendly fire.”

“It’s 2008 and we’re still fucking moving backwards,” he explains. “The stuff we do…it’s kind of ridiculous. It makes me exhausted. We’re so devious as people, so devious.”

But then there are the tracks that get uncomfortably personal. “Past Mistake,” a dramatic torch song, is a break-up duet sung by Tricky and Lubna, the girl he allegedly broke up with, which gives this track a rare dose of reality. “School Gates” tells the story of Tricky finding out years later about impregnating an old high school ex-girlfriend, but still not confirming the allegation even to this day. “I can’t just walk into this little girl’s life,” he says. “I need to see her first before I make any contact. If she really is mine, though, it’ll be undeniable.”

Tricky’s revelations are strange when one especially considers his reputation for being press-shy and difficult, but he admits that those days are far behind him. “I had this disorder called Candida,” he reveals. “It takes the good bacteria and causes depression. I got help only when I felt so horrible that I wanted to hurt somebody…and understood that there was a risk of going to jail. Now I know I have it, so I know how to deal with it.”

After seeking help and the necessary prescriptions, Tricky now eats better, trains and exercises often, and, in general, takes much better care of himself. Judging from the optimistic vibe, this could be the Tricky he’s been searching for all these years. “Like I said, this is the first page of the second chapter,” he says. “Sometimes you need to go backward to go forward.”

Tricky plays the House of Blues (329 N. Dearborn, 312-923-2000) Sept. 8