The premise is disarmingly modest. Hill watches the sunrise, is flooded with a sense of well-being, and wonders how long he might keep hold of it. By mid-morning the feeling is under siege: there's an errand, a queue, traffic, a diary full of obligations and the beach conspicuously not on the itinerary. Anyone who has ever stood in a post office line while the weather outside taunted them will wince in recognition. Here is a songwriter who knows that joy is not a permanent address but a place you have to keep walking back to.

What elevates the song above mere greeting-card sentiment is its honesty about the struggle. Hill doesn't pretend the day's annoyances aren't annoying. He simply asks whether they really matter that much, and the answer, which he arrives at the way most of us do, by accident and a little late, is that the good feeling lingers longest when you stop dictating in advance how the day ought to unfold. It's a lesson worthy of a Buddhist monk, delivered with the shrug of a man who'd rather be on the sand.

The two-chord architecture is the song's secret weapon. That back-and-forth sway mimics the very thing it describes, the mind drifting from worry to wonder and back again, and it gives the track a hypnotic, tidal quality. There is no showing off here, no key change dropped in to make the faint-hearted weep. Restraint is the point. Hill trusts the simplicity, and the simplicity repays him handsomely.

Then comes the emotional pivot, inspired by a recent day when every plan was cancelled in the best possible way. The sudden gift of freedom is rendered not as laziness but as permission, a reboot button for the soul. It's the sort of observation that makes you want to ring a friend and cancel something immediately. The closing declaration, a vow to rediscover that sunrise mindset even as the sun itself goes down, is the song's defiant heart. It's optimism with its sleeves rolled up, and thoroughly earned.

The artwork, a hazy sun glinting through what looks like fine mesh above a black silhouetted horizon, captures the mood perfectly: warm light seen through the everyday grid of things in the way. It's a fitting image for a song that finds radiance despite the clutter.

Credit, too, to the collaboration with Adam James, which the artist singles out, and which suggests a songwriter wise enough to know that simple ideas still benefit from a sympathetic pair of ears.

What we've lacked lately is someone to remind us that the road can be enjoyed. "Sunrise State of Mind" is a small, glowing triumph: unpretentious, warm and genuinely uplifting. Play it before the traffic, and again during.