For years, we’ve journeyed with Jacob Collier as he’s built a musical universe. His Djesse series was a maximalist, round-the-world ticket—a glorious, chaotic, 100,000-voice rojak of funk, orchestral, and soul. It was the sound of a stadium, a global celebration.
And then, he gave us 'The Light of Days'.
This album, his latest, isn't a world tour. It’s an intimate postcard. Released just this month, Jacob recorded it in a stunning four-day sprint, stripping everything back to (mostly) just his voice and an acoustic guitar. It’s the opposite of his usual sound.
But as any Singaporean knows, sometimes the most profound "value" is found not in the massive hotel buffet, but in a perfectly simple, comforting bowl of Teochew mui. It’s an album of quiet, and in our "always-on" city, that might be the most valuable thing of all.
So, let’s grab a kopi, put on our headphones, and take this quiet, London-born album on a trip. How does it sound from our HDB window? Does it have a place in our fast-paced, tropical lives? Let's begin our journey.
What is 'The Light of Days'? (Setting the Scene)
A Sudden, Stripped-Back Souvenir
This isn't Djesse Vol. 5. This is a detour, a sudden turn down a quiet lane. The entire 11-track album—six originals and five covers—was born from a burst of inspiration. It’s raw, immediate, and incredibly personal. You can almost hear the floorboards creak in his London music room.
Not the Esplanade, But the Void Deck
We’re used to Jacob Collier's music feeling like the F1 Night Race—a sensory overload of genius. 'The Light of Days' is the opposite. It's the sound of a 2 AM heart-to-heart talk at a void deck. It’s not performing at you; it's sitting with you.
The 'Real Value' of Simplicity
For us at 'Real Value SG', this is key. In a culture that values 'more'—more kiasu, more achievements, more upgrading—this album is a powerful act of defiance. It suggests that the real value lies in simplicity, in the space between the notes. It’s an album for the 11 PM MRT ride home, when you finally have a moment to just breathe.
A Track-by-Track 'Singapura' Slant
We’re putting each of these 11 songs on a "Singaporean listening tour." Here’s what we found.
1. "You Can Close Your Eyes" (James Taylor Cover)
The Singapore Slant: This is the sound of a Sunday evening on East Coast Park. The work week is looming, the sky is that perfect "magic hour" purple, and you’re with someone you love. It’s a song of pure comfort, a gentle "it's okay, don't worry about Monday just yet."
2. "Heaven (Butterflies)"
The Singapore Slant: This original track captures the nervous, shiok feeling of a new relationship. It's that first date walk through the Botanic Gardens, the air humid and electric. It’s the "butterflies" in your stomach when you’re trying to find a quiet café in the chaos of Haji Lane.
3. "Thom Thumb"
The Singapore Slant: A short, quirky, wonderful little instrumental. This is the palate cleanser. It’s the small, sharp slice of pickled green chili you get with your wanton mee—it’s not the main dish, but it’s a tiny, perfect burst of character that makes the whole meal better.
4. "Fairytale Lullaby" (John Martyn Cover)
The Singapore Slant: Pure, unadulterated comfort. This is the sound of a parent hushing a child to sleep in a warm room, the KDK fan whirring softly. It’s the ultimate "safe harbour" feeling, like ducking under an HDB shelter just as a massive, longkang-flooding downpour begins.
5. "Norwegian Wood" (The Beatles Cover)
The Singapore Slant: A familiar story, but told in a new, intricate, and slightly melancholic way. This is our own "cultural rojak." We take something globally famous (like The Beatles, or Christmas) and make it uniquely our own (with Orchard Road lights and 30-degree heat). It’s reinvention, Jacob-style.
6. "Keep An Eye On Summer" (The Beach Boys Cover)
The Singapore Slant: This is beautifully ironic for us, isn't it? We only have summer. But the song is about nostalgia for a perfect, passing season. For us, this is the bittersweet feeling of the last day of Chinese New Year visiting, or the final fireworks of the National Day Parade. Cherishing a golden, fleeting moment.
7. "I Know (A Little)"
The Singapore Slant: The album's first single. It's intimate, confessional, and hopeful. This is the sound of that late-night chat with your best friend at a 24-hour prata shop. Sharing secrets, feeling understood, and solving the world's problems over a teh tarik.
8. "Where Did My Apple Fall?"
The Singapore Slant: This song hits hard in our family-centric society. It's about roots, legacy, and the "apple not falling far from the tree." It’s the quiet, internal conversation about filial piety. "Am I making my parents proud?" "Am I living up to expectations?" A moment of deep, inter-generational reflection.
9. "Sweet Melody"
The Singapore Slant: Another short, beautiful interlude. This is the kueh lapis of the album. It’s not a full meal, but it’s a small, sweet, perfectly layered treat that brings a simple, uncomplicated moment of joy.
10. "Icarus" (The Staves Cover)
The Singapore Slant: The myth of Icarus is a warning against flying too high, too fast. In our kiasu, high-achieving, "top-of-the-class" society, this song is a powerful, gentle reminder. It’s for the student studying until 3 AM, for the executive burnt out from chasing the next promotion. It’s a beautiful whisper that says, "It's okay to not burn out. It's okay to just... be."
11. "Something Heavy"
The Singapore Slant: The finale. It’s about carrying a burden, but also the release of setting it down. This is the collective, national sigh of a Friday evening at 6:30 PM. It's the weight of our responsibilities, the "mental load," but also the deep, shared understanding that we’re all in this together. The "heavy" thing is life, and this song is the comfort.
The Verdict: What's the 'Real Value' for a Singaporean?
In a city that never stops, 'The Light of Days' is a "Circuit Breaker" for the soul. It forces us to slow down, to diam diam and just listen.
This album's value isn't in its complexity; it's in its clarity. It’s a travel guide not to a new country, but to our own inner, quiet spaces. It won't get your heart pumping like a Djesse funk track, but it might just mend it a little.
The 'Real Value' is this: it's a S$15 album that provides S$1,000 worth of peace. In our book, that’s a fantastic ROI (Return on Introspection).
Our little journey through Jacob's quiet London room is over. This album is a beautiful souvenir, proving that music—like travel—doesn't always have to be loud to be life-changing.
Sometimes, the most valuable destination is a simple, quiet moment. 'The Light of Days' is your ticket there.
So, as we say in Singapore... jio your friends, share the music, and selamat jalan. Happy listening.
Your Questions Answered (FAQ)
Here are a few things you might be wondering before you dive in.
I loved the big, funky Djesse albums. Will I like this?
It depends! If you loved the maximalism—the big choirs, the wild key changes, the funk—this is a 180-degree turn. This is the "unplugged" version. Think of Djesse as the full-on F1 Night Race, and The Light of Days as a quiet, solitary walk in MacRitchie Reservoir at dawn. Both are brilliant, but they offer very different experiences.
What is the best way to listen to The Light of Days in Singapore?
With good headphones, on a rainy afternoon, with a hot cup of teh-C. Or, try it on a long, slow bus ride (like the 14) that cuts through the heartlands. Let the quiet, intricate music contrast with the busy world you're passing by.
Is this album "real value" or just a simple, low-effort project?
This is the definition of "real value." It's not low-effort; it's focused. It’s like a master hawker who has perfected a single dish. The skill isn't in adding more ingredients; it's in knowing exactly what to leave out. The value is in its masterful simplicity and emotional honesty, which is priceless.
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