Irish singer and songwriter Mick Flannery’s successful collaboration with Susan O’Neill (herself an up-and-coming Irish songwriter) on this song grew into a full album of duets between the two.
Flannery’s rootsy sound and sorrowful songwriting find a sympathetic match in O’Neill’s vocals, which approximate a wounded Stevie Nicks vibe here.
No less than three of Flannery’s albums have reached number one in his native Ireland, where he’s one of that country’s most acclaimed songwriters.
If Monty Python’s Flying Circus had been a progressive folk-rock band…
Meet southwest England’s Stackridge, the band who had the distinction of being both the opening and closing act at the first Glastonbury Festival in September of 1970.
Their singular, quirky stylings sound a bit like a musical bridge between the Kinks’ more lighthearted fare and 10cc.
Their songs–full of odd twists, unexpected instrumentation and crackbrain vocal extemporizing–are the musical equivalent of an untidy rummage sale.
A fun one.
The one-off single “Do the Stanley” could have been a UK hit. But it wasn’t.
Seems the BBC, uptight about a lyrical reference to the Queen, restricted airplay for “Stanley”.
In any case, one can’t quite imagine hearing it (or any other Stackridge tune, actually) alongside “Take it Easy” and “25 or 6 to 4” on American radio in 2025 or 1973.
The words I used to describe Moon Safari on a previous post apply just as well to this song, so I’ll reprint them with only slight modification here:
Moon Safari represents an astounding juxtaposition of seemingly incompatible musical components: the surprise-around-every-corner complexity of prog rock alongside an almost boy-bandesque propensity for catchy pop hooks, and a five-part harmony vocal sound simply unmatched in their genre.
At its absolute best prog rock is a triumph of possibility over musical triteness and cliché. It stretches the envelope. But it doesn’t need to tear the seams–to sound so “original” that it challenges more than pleases.
And that’s what Moon Safari seem to understand: ultimately music–even relatively complex music–is meant to be enjoyed. Melodic and instrumental hooks abound here. But like the best prog, it’ll take you many repeated listens to assimilate the song entirely–to be able to sing every lyric on cue and hit every correct note of the solo on air guitar or synth.
Ornate, yet entirely accessible. A treat for fans of complex music, but a great bridge into the genre for fans of more mainstream bands (Styx come to mind).
(End quote.)
This song in particular will forever be tied to a mental snapshot from my own life. It was the moment in which I gave in to the inevitable and drove away for the final time from the home of a woman with whom I’d had a fitful short-lived and one-sided relationship.
As I navigated the 45-minute trip home, this song on repeat, these lyrics, sung in a tearful near-shout, were something of a balm of self-medication:
We’re much too young to say goodbye But I won’t waste another day here by your side When it comes to love, you don’t have a clue You don’t have a heart, but you could easily break mine It’s time to say goodbye
Music, indeed, is there for you when no one else seems to be.
To a DJ, the art of the segue is key. Typically this takes the form of “beat matching” or matching the tempo of the ending of one song with the beginning of the next. Matching the key of the two songs can also make for a pleasing transition.
Of course, the transitions between songs is of importance when playing to a dance floor primarily–but not solely.
A skilled, conscientious disc jockey is mindful of the art of the segue in any setting.
My wedding and club gigs are, but for the occasional one-off, behind me at this point. But I take immense satisfaction in playing once a month at a local retirement facility, where the residents are as appreciative of the music as any party crowd I’ve ever been in front of.
And a segue in this setting is often merely a mood-changer. From a sad ballad to something playful and uptempo, or vice versa.
Which brings me to Ray Stevens’ 1975 cover of Erroll Garner jazz standard and Johnny Mathis signature song “Misty”, a happy accident that still brings happiness as of August 11, 2025 at Brookdale Senior Living in Mt. Lebanon, PA.
Normally I’d play the most definitive version of a familiar old chestnut. But when the playlist feels a bit ballad heavy, I feel the need to shake things up a little. Stevens’ “Misty” is the senior equivalent of rocking out.
Despite the residents’ lack of familiarity with the version, it goes over tremendously well.
I refer to the song as a happy accident because comedic country artist (and serious musician) Ray Stevens–known for hits from the sublime to the ridiculous such as “Everything is Beautiful” and “The Streak”–had no intention of recording it.
As he recounts in his intro to the song in the below video, his touring band was in the studio, not to record but to rehearse for a TV performance, when they filled some idle time basically sending up the Mathis classic.
Liking what he was hearing, Stevens called the sound engineer at home and asked him to come to the studio to record it.
The band captured the song in a mere two takes, which likely explains why they also captured the loose, galloping, fun feel of the jam session that gave birth to it.
As musical accidents go this one was, well, miraculous. A 1954 jazz standard originally composed as an instrumental. Covered by crooner Johnny Mathis as well as Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan. And yet sounding like it was written for banjo, fiddle and pedal steel and meant to be sung with a southern drawl.
It shouldn’t work. But it’s perfect. In fact, so perfect that it won a Grammy for Best Musical Arrangement.
When one of Stevens’ musical cohorts in the video says, “and I like this version better than Johnny Mathis'” it doesn’t sound the least bit sacrilegious to me. I happen to share the sentiment.
The instrumental bridge alone, with its interplay of steel guitar, piano, and an insistent cowbell…considerations of music genre preference aside, pop music is seldom so well executed. Legendary rock bands rehearse material for an album for weeks. This was pulled together in a single (and quite unintentional) session.
And it certainly sets the seniors’ toes tapping. Oh, and the segue? I came out of this song with Perry Como’s “And I Love You So”. From the playful to the plaintive. From pickin’ and grinnin’ to poignant.
The refreshingly non-self serious UK post-punkers Sports Team were nominated for a Mercury Prize (given for the best album released by a musical act from the UK or Ireland) for their 2020 debut Deep Down Happy.
“Condensation” is a melodic little banger from their third, Boys These Days.
Every Moment Has A Song 