Tuesday October 15, 2024
There’s something deeply timeless about Susan Muranty’s Summer Moon. It feels like a song that could have been written a century ago or a minute ago, its themes eternal and elemental, like the moon itself.
What Muranty has done here is capture the pulse of the night, that feeling we all get when the sun dips below the horizon and the world shifts into something slower, more mysterious. From the very first chord, a clean guitar strum that cuts through the night air like a whisper, Summer Moon hooks you in with its simplicity.
Muranty’s voice is at once intimate and expansive, inviting you into a private world while speaking to something universal. She starts small, describing the falling darkness and the flashing of suburban sirens, and you’re right there with her. But before long, the song takes you somewhere deeper, into the primal pull of the moon, the tides, the ancient rhythms of nature that connect us all. What’s striking about Summer Moon is how it builds.
The verses are minimalist, almost conversational, but there’s tension in them, a quiet intensity that grows with each line. And then the chorus hits, and it’s like Muranty is throwing open the doors to the night sky. ‘I’m not singing lullabies, no way. I’m throwing off the night into the Milky Way,’ she sings, and it’s pure release.
The chorus isn’t just a melody—it’s an invocation, a call to abandon the constraints of the everyday and embrace something larger. The production is carefully restrained. There are echoes of retro pop balladry here, but nothing feels nostalgic. Instead, the track blends old and new seamlessly, creating a sound that’s both familiar and fresh. The guitar work is particularly notable, adding texture without overshadowing Muranty’s voice, which remains the emotional core of the song. And then there are the lyrics, which move effortlessly between the personal and the cosmic.
Muranty doesn’t just sing about longing—she makes it physical, visceral. ‘Fingers tracing ancient stories. Moonbeams in fluoro white,’ she sings, and suddenly you’re not just listening to a song, you’re experiencing it. The moon, the tides, the night sky—they’re all right there, tangible, real. In a time when so much of pop music is disposable, designed to be forgotten as soon as the next hook comes along, Summer Moon feels like a return to something deeper.
It’s a song that stays with you, lingers in the back of your mind like the memory of a warm summer night. Susan Muranty has crafted a song that feels both personal and expansive, balancing intimacy with a sense of wider connection. It’s a track that resonates in the moment but has a lasting, timeless quality.
