The story behind it deserves telling, though never as a sales pitch. Einar Askelsson, the songwriter at the project's centre, came to music by accident. Years of Complex PTSD left him waking each day under what he describes as a stone in the stomach, and a therapist's advice to find something to fight for sent him to a guitar and a handful of chords. That is not the usual origin story, and it explains why these songs carry weight without ever sounding like they are lifting it for show.

Askelsson writes lyrics first, usually from old poems, and builds the music to serve the narrative. This reverses most pop manufacture, and the consequence is audible. The melody behaves like a narrator rather than a showman, moving where the story needs it and no further. His stated creed, that less is more and that a good tune needs few chords, is one that Lennon, Difford and a long line of the genre's best economists would recognise and applaud. Having once packed every section with fresh harmonic ideas, he now trusts the melody to do the talking. The discipline is the record's chief virtue.

Then comes the human element. A demo built on the website Hookpad travels to vocalist Elizabet "Lizzie," and then to producer Simon, each granted real artistic freedom. The arrangement follows an old-fashioned architecture of intro, two verses, pre-chorus, chorus, third verse, pre-chorus, chorus and outro, but the collaboration keeps it from feeling templated. Lizzie's voice is the warm centre, giving Askelsson's private ledger of survival a public face. Simon's production shapes the whole without smothering it. That three people who have never met can sound so attuned is quietly remarkable. The partnership reads as a conversation rather than an assembly line.

What lifts the single beyond a pleasant addition to the catalogue is its title, which works as a thesis. The phrase is a statement of arrival, made by someone who once struggled to face the morning, and it lands with the authority of experience rather than slogan. After "Echoes In The Dark" and "The Empty Street," where the band found their voice, this track finds them settled into it, confident enough to repeat themselves a little and to trust that the story, not the novelty, is what matters.

Neither a stadium nor a tour is on the horizon. The band's stated ambition is for other musicians to record Askelsson's songs, and the evidence here suggests they will want to. Good songs are portable, and these are built to travel.

It is a modest, dignified and deeply felt piece of work. Play it in the morning, when it matters most.