Some of the most powerful music is discovered at six in the morning and it’s sometimes very specific to those late nights of no sleep and a zombie-like state. So we decided to start Late Night Music. If we find ourselves listening to a song between 2 and 6 in the morning, we’ll post it between 2 and 6 in the morning. See you out here, fellow insomniacs.


Much of the magic of late nights is the incoherence introduced by exhaustion. It’s the sort of soft focus that pushes some thoughts out of focus and brings others into a sort of sensory clarity–you can’t necessarily express what you’re hearing or seeing, but you feel it.

Miho Hatori’s “Night Light” is that sort of fuzzy lucidity, a song whose words I found almost completely unintelligible upon first listen. Repeat sessions brought acclimation, but they also made me realize that “Night Light” is meant to be felt, not contemplated–it’s the sensation of being unable to grab hold of thoughts as they slip past into the darkness. Two versions of “Night Light” exist, but the slower, sultrier take has struck me as superior since I discovered it. It’s the sound of smoke curling up from cigarettes and traffic lights distorting in drops of rain after the storm has finished. It’s also a damn good song.