Night Manager is also the name of a detective novel by the writer who must get more blow jobs in airport bathrooms than any other, Jon le Carré (It's the accent on the last E that really gets those ladies going.) So it makes sense that in this Night Manager song we might feel a sense of searching. We move the tape recorder bookends apart and in-between is a little pop mystery: crooning aaahs and ooohs move us betwwen surf-guitar inflected choruses with hand-clap drums, but this is a story that leaves us hanging. There is no killer found, nor were any jewels recovered. The song is just over, and the mystery was that there wasn't one.
Night Manager are about to go on tour with Total Slacker. Here's the poster, with dates and all that: