Vince Leigh’s Single Review: Summer Moon by Susan Muranty
By Vince Leigh (Ex drummer of Pseudo Echo, Tina Arena and John Farnham) of Australian Radio Promotion for Sheldon Ang Media
Okay, let’s just get this out there: Susan Muranty’s Summer Moon is not the kind of song that’s going to punch you in the face on first listen. And I say that with all the affection of someone who loves a good sonic uppercut. But here’s the thing—it doesn’t need to. This track doesn’t need to prove itself by hitting you over the head with bombast. Instead, it’s a quiet seduction, the kind that sneaks up on you like a warm summer night when you’re five drinks in, staring up at the moon, and suddenly all the trivialities of life seem very, very far away. Muranty’s opening gambit is as simple as it gets—just a clean guitar strum, so unassuming you almost miss it. There’s a kind of raw purity to it, like she’s deliberately keeping things simple so that every note, every breath, matters. And then, just like that, her voice comes in, soft but with this undeniable undercurrent of yeah, I’ve been here before. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t demand your attention, but you give it anyway because there’s something real going on here.
And let’s talk about the moon, shall we? I know, I know. You’re probably rolling your eyes. The moon? Really? Yeah, the moon. Because that’s what this whole song revolves around—this metaphorical, mystical celestial body that seems to have its hooks in all of us. ‘Darkness falls like a blanket,’ Muranty sings, and sure, it’s poetic, but it’s also rooted in the real experience of staring up at that massive glowing orb in the sky and feeling something. What’s that something? Who the hell knows, but it’s there. Now, I’ll be the first to say I’m not usually a fan of this sort of gentle, cosmic introspection. Give me something with teeth, you know? But there’s a power here, an honesty that pulls you in. The verses—so simple, almost like a conversation—build slowly, taking their time. But by the time the chorus hits, you realize you’re on a ride. ‘I’m not singing lullabies—no way. I’m throwing off the night into the Milky Way,’ she sings, and it’s like you’ve been waiting for that release without even realizing it. Here’s the trick: Muranty doesn’t give you the whole damn universe. She gives you pieces—snippets of moonlight, tides rising, sirens in the distance. It’s all about the night, sure, but it’s about feeling the night. And if you’ve ever been out there, alone or otherwise, looking up at the sky and thinking, there’s gotta be more than this, then Summer Moon is your anthem. In a world full of cluttered, overproduced nonsense, sometimes that’s exactly what you need—a song that takes its time, that reflects the quiet pull of something bigger than yourself. And that, my friends, is exactly what Susan Muranty’s offering.
