Jeremy Jay's A Place Where We Could Go opens with one of the most pointless tracks in music history. It's not some terrible lengthy self-indulgent 'experimental' noodling which Jay will refer to as his defining work while everybody else sneers, nor is it filler spat out on the last day of mixing to make it to twelve tracks. No, it's a super-brief clip of him saying the words "night night". It's so short that when selected on my iPod, it results in this weird glitch where it just plays a sudden and paltry excerpt of whatever I was last listening to before firing straight into the album's second track, a shimmeringly romantic moonlit-stroll-and-red-wine tune which, funnily enough, is called 'Nite Nite'.
This reiteration of the naming of the period which exists between 9pm and 4am does, however, allow for the musician to recommend the ideal time for listening to his gorgeous wandering minstrel meditations. To these ears, Jeremy Jay is the colourful Venn intersect of Jonathan Richman, Andrew Bird and Mark Bolan (during the stray moments when he wasn't being crap), but the K Records stamp on his album sleeve is a quiet and friendly reassurer as to his idiographic and self-styled talent.