I’ve listened to this album at least a dozen times now and I can’t shake the feeling that it is mistitled. It just doesn’t sound to me like ‘morning after’ music, neither post-coitally or post-alcoholically. Not that Yorn trades in percussion-heavy distorted wigouts, mind, but neither is he a purveyor of softly plucked guitars and gentle folksiness. Indeed, album opener, ‘Life On A Chain’ is a sprightly, rock ‘n’ roll wildebeest, spruced up and ready to face the day with a willing smile and a huge heart.

For the most part, the guitars jingle and jangle, the percussion is non-intrusive and Yorn’s voice is that of a troubled troubador who has seen enough of life’s underbelly to rejoice in its happier moments.

The insistent ‘Black’ plays like Yorn is worshipping at the temple of alternative ’90s British bands, with more than a nod towards New Order and a bassline straight from The Cure. Then there’s the straight-ahead rock of ‘Murray’, apparently written about the Beach Boys’ father, Murray Wilson. On the other paw, there’s the mainly acoustic‘Just Another’, which comes on like the offspring of a bizarre union between Chris Isaac and Emmylou Harris, at a meeting orchestrated by Daniel Lanois.

Whether it is the downtrodden romanticism of ‘Lose You’, the yearning addictiveness of ‘Sense’ or the bittersweet balladry of ‘EZ’, there are more than enough songs of real quality shining through to make you return to Yorn’s music time and again.