It starts about 30 seconds in: after a simple picked guitar intro, a single mournful violin speaks of loneliness. Friends appear: a quartet is formed; together they weave a spell of downy softness. Hinson’s gravel tones intercede; by now you are as lost as Hinson in the subject of his song - “you could say that I need another day, but I don’t think I need anything but you”.

It’s immaculate and exquisite. All through, it showcases Hinson’s ability to leave a note or a phrase just dangling, out there, and then follow it up with a well judged silence. You can almost hear every moment of pain in the cracked voice. This is a man who experienced homelessness and drug dependency following his need to escape a suffocating small-town childhood. And all this before - even - the near-fatal car accident while on tour in Spain in 2011 that left Hinson unable to use his arms during the recording of his most recent album - Micah P. Hinson and the Nothing.