Like to Get to Know You Well

Where "New Song" crackles with urgency, this one unfolds like a slow, warm afternoon that you don't want to end. The production is lusher here — synths layered in broad, luminous chords, a rhythm that sways rather than drives, space left deliberately open so each element can breathe. Howard Jones understood that restraint is its own kind of sophistication, and here he lets the arrangement shimmer rather than push. His vocal delivery shifts accordingly: less proclamation, more intimate conversation, as if he's leaning slightly closer to share something he wouldn't say in a crowd. The song is essentially a love letter to the act of discovery — the particular electricity of wanting to understand another person completely, of finding that curiosity itself is a form of affection. It captures the early phase of connection when everything the other person says feels like a small revelation. Culturally, it sits at the intersection of pop accessibility and something more emotionally considered — radio-friendly enough to reach everyone, sincere enough to mean something to the people who actually needed it. This is a song for long drives with someone you're just beginning to trust, windows down, neither of you quite ready to say the obvious thing.