And at least his lonely epiphany on a faraway balcony inspired one song, Hot Tequila Brown. Kay plays it to me from the mixing desk and, as I stand alongside, he harmonises with himself on a lyric about sitting stone-cold in the rising sun, toxic with fear and self-loathing. “If you want to know what cocaine addiction is like, it’s that,” he says when the track is over, and I turn to find that, again, his face is running with tears. The Polaroid of his haunted, 2003 self he then thumbs back into place, a glossy, curl-edged reminder of where he found himself and how far he since has come.