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Feb 25, 2022 By Austin Saalman

Much of this list was compiled and written between July and August 2021, in honor of The Capris’ hit “There’s a Moon Out Tonight,” which, despite having been released in 1958, did not chart until 1961, eventually climbing to number three on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart early that year, thus warranting a 60th anniversary commemorative list of 12 solid “moon” songs. After careful consideration, however, I decided I’d missed my mark last summer, the length of time between the song’s anniversary and prospective publication date of my list having grown too great.

Instead, I shelved it, recalling that English singer/songwriter Nick Drake’s astounding final album Pink Moon would be celebrating its 50th anniversary on February 25, 2022, and planned to revisit the project in commemoration of that occasion, which is now upon us.

The 12 tracks selected are among my absolute favorites—rich in atmosphere, so stirringly evocative of nighttime’s misty secrecy. Yes, missing are some of the more obvious titles—“Moonlight Mile,” “Harvest Moon,” “Bad Moon Rising,” “Fly Me to the Moon,” etc…you really can’t go wrong—but I feel the selective process here has been fair and consistently honest. It was certainly no easy task whittling so many options away—The Mothers of Invention’s “Concentration Moon” was just as worthy a contender as Dead Kennedys’ “Moon Over Marin,” although neither made the final cut. Ultimately, I am confident that whatever was meant to remain has done so.

Haroula Rose: “Lavender Moon”

The hypnotic “Lavender Moon” found a wider audience upon its fitting appearance on American Horror Story: Murder House, but award-winning singer/songwriter/director/producer Haroula Rose had already been active for several years by that point. Rose’s debut studio album, 2011’s incredible These Open Roads, introduced select audiences to her deep indie sensibilities and ghostly intrigue of her singing voice, a sensation that served to complement the chilling atmosphere of Murder House. The cryptic “Lavender Moon” is, perhaps, even more affecting than the popular television show on which it once appeared. Rose depicts a memory-haunted city by the sea and nighttime walks beneath the titular lavender moon. Beneath it all, the track possesses the undeniable sense of natural beauty that is evident only in the work of a genuinely skilled artist. (www.haroularose.bandcamp.com)

Gandalf: “I Watch the Moon”

The closing track of this underrated ’60s New York psychedelic rock outfit’s eponymous debut is not only its key entry, but also among the genre’s most stirring. The group’s incense-scented bedroom introspection is no better embodied than on the dreamily sorrowful “I Watch the Moon,” its swirling organs and tripping percussion forming a thick carnival of midnight blue. There is mortality at play here, in lines such as, “when the heaven’s deeper blue turns to black/Then you know I won’t be back,” the protagonist imparting a mystical character, singing, “Every night I’m in my room/Wondering where to throw my stone/Every night I watch the moon/Can’t you see I’m all alone.” Gross mishandling by Capitol resulted in poor album sales, denying Gandalf the necessary traction among audiences and leaving them to languish at the bottom of the bin. That said, the group has since enjoyed a resurrection as a beloved cult act among genre enthusiasts and serious collectors, with Gandalf standing as a stunning psychedelic rarity, “I Watch the Moon” its central entry. (www.petersando.com)

Billie Holiday: “Blue Moon”

Billie Holiday’s riveting 1952-released interpretation of standard “Blue Moon” puts any of its countless other renditions to shame. Seldom is the term “genius” warranted in regard to any specific recording—we can certainly think of some, though they are few and far between—but Billie Holiday most definitely achieved such greatness in her lifetime. Holiday’s inimitable vocals shine like candlelight across the track’s shadowy keys, birthing a nocturnal garden of perpetual lunar melancholia, through which she guides the listener until the shadows have grown too deep to traverse, the listener opting instead to sit upon the grass and admire that glowing moon high beyond the treetops. Representing an astounding creative achievement for the artist, at the height of her powers, Holiday’s “Blue Moon” may, beyond all other entries, remain the quintessential moon song, a stirring bit of predawn soul yet aglow. (www.billieholiday.com)

Television: “Marquee Moon”

The jazz-tinged art punk of New York-based group Television marked a turning point in ’70s rock, with the band blasting the scene to bits and assaulting the senses on its acclaimed 1977-released debut Marquee Moon. The record has since gone on to influence scores of indie, punk, and alt rockers, frequently finding itself on numerous “best of” lists. The album’s title track is everything one might expect of an innovative rock quartet co-founded by two Symbolist poetry enthusiasts-cum-boarding school escapees. Frontman Tom Verlaine’s maddening verse celebrates all that is urban and youthful, while his and Richard Lloyd’s electrifying solos pave the way for a multitude of guitar bands to come. The title represents an intriguing juxtaposition, influenced by Verlaine’s “city mouse/country mouse” concept, in which the metropolitan meets the arcadian. Rich with all the mania, pretension, fascination, and sincere adolescent existentialism of a Television masterpiece, “Marquee Moon,” much like the rest of the album, carries vivid emotions which remain relevant to any listener, regardless of age or era. (www.thewonder.co.uk)

Prince & The Revolution: “Under the Cherry Moon”

A key track off 1986’s Parade, which is itself the soundtrack to the Purple One’s directorial debut Under the Cherry Moon, “Under the Cherry Moon” unmasks an enthralling post-Purple Rain persona—a suave Miami gigolo prowling the French Riviera. The track embodies the romantic noir film in this respect, its velveteen canvas stained by shadows of danger and seduction, possibilities of destiny, and the inevitability of premature death. Prince’s vocals are hushed, as he contemplates, “Maybe I’ll die young like heroes die.” Even in death, Prince remains an undeniable American icon, one of the most recognized artists in pop, who expertly crafted an array of acclaimed crossovers while still maintaining his own identity. Parade represents some of these powers at their very finest, and “Under the Cherry Moon” remains one of Prince’s most ravenously erotic and devastatingly tragic offerings, its lush air of classic mortality both titillating and crushing. (www.prince.com)

Tom Waits: “Grapefruit Moon”

This bleary ode to intoxicated enlightenment essentially embodies the best of early Waits. His smoothly sung, jazz-inflected tales of empty after hours streets and the strange, yet supple figures to be encountered theron carry decided delicacies. Here, we encounter Waits, the Southern Californian beatnik seeker, lost yet still awash in the hazy beam guiding him. “Grapefruit Moon” is a standout on Waits’ solid 1973-released debut Closing Time, and remains one of his key songs. Lacking the unconventional blues wailing ferocity of subsequent masterpieces Small Change and Rain Dogs, “Grapefruit Moon” reminds the listener of an era during which Waits was merely a “pool-shooting-shimmy-shyster shaking [his] head,” fumblin’ with the blues and searching for the light—or a light. There is a voyeuristic vulnerability to be gleaned from Waits’ first two releases, and late night piano ballad “Grapefruit Moon” stands as a key example. (www.tomwaits.com)

Willie Nelson: “Moonlight in Vermont”

That this outlaw country icon would achieve such greatness on a cover album of old standards demonstrates exactly how versatile an artist Willie Nelson is. Stardust, his 1978-released foray into classic pop, boasts 10 flawless tracks, but Nelson’s cover of “Moonlight in Vermont” sets itself far apart. His charming Texan drawl pairs well with the track’s lazy shuffle and sleepy harmonica, adding a sense of rustic wistfulness to complement its mellow sway. One can envision the romantic setting of which Nelson sings: gentle moonbeams across snow-cloaked hillsides and icy New England roads passing beneath silhouetted mountains in the mist. Of course, Nelson’s “Moonlight in Vermont” is not a regional, nor seasonal delight. Instead, it remains one of his most endearing, if underappreciated, gems—well worth a listen in any season. (www.willienelson.com)

Echo & The Bunnymen: “The Killing Moon”

Not only Echo & The Bunnymen’s crowning achievement as a band, 1984’s “The Killing Moon” is also the all-time favorite song of the group’s characteristically humble frontman Ian McCulloch, who claims it to be the greatest ever written. Structured around a reverse interpretation of David Bowie’s “Space Oddity,” this goth classic comes with a certain sophistication, articulated by its intricate use of strings and prominent twang, all of which help to solidify its eerie atmosphere. Much debate has occurred over the song’s meaning, but a common perception is that it concerns death, or specifically, the surrendering of one’s mortal desire to its inevitable end. Here, the “killing moon,” as with Nick Drake’s “pink moon,” may be yet another omen of impending doom. According to McCulloch, the song’s refrain—some of the most crucial lines ever sung by him—revealed itself one morning, as he awoke. For this reason, he has entertained the possibility of divine influence. (www.bunnymen.com)

The Soft Boys: “Underwater Moonlight”

Before rising to prominence as a cult hero of ’80s alt rock, English singer/songwriter Robyn Hitchcock fronted The Soft Boys, a four-piece neo-psychedelic post-punk outfit, initially active between 1976 and 1981. Underwater Moonlight, the group’s final album and ultimate artistic statement, was released in June 1980 to commercial failure, but managed to amass a devoted following into the subsequent decade. On the album’s enthralling closing title track, Hitchcock’s penchant for literary fiction is on full display, as he weaves his unique prose poetry into a lively short story of surrealist proportions. “Underwater Moonlight,” in its bizarre depictions of animated statues, giant squids and drowned lovers, conveys a peculiar beauty, the group’s raw energy and unhip intelligence on full display. Artists such as Hitchcock possess a knack for locating the intersection between the electric and poetic, a creative gift he utilized to its fullest during his stint as a Soft Boy, “Underwater Moonlight” being the culmination of such an extraordinary talent. (www.robynhitchcock.com)

The Smashing Pumpkins: “Luna”

Considered by many to be the group’s crowning achievement, 1993’s monumental Siamese Dream placed The Smashing Pumpkins at the forefront of alt rock’s mainstream. While, as with all ’90s Pumpkins releases, the album is indebted to a wide variety of genre influences, it possesses a strong backbone of ’60s and ’70s-inspired neo-psychedelia. This is no more evident than on closing track “Luna,” which sees frontman Billy Corgan finding God. Less is heard about this particular number, which features delirious guitars and Corgan’s signature nasally vocals, but it is a quality Pumpkins gem. Understated in its dreaminess, “Luna” is often swept away by the album’s bombastic rush of heavy rock, offering, instead, an elegant goodnight, as well as foreshadowing Corgan’s future success as a psychedelic balladeer. In its celestial grandiosity, “Luna” is Corgan’s nocturne, offering strange comfort to those in search of it and serving as a key moon song. (www.smashingpumpkins.com)

The Beach Boys: “The Surfer Moon”

While 1963’s Surfer Girl may be a mixed bag, a handful of tracks serve as key milestones in the development of Brian Wilson’s illustrious career as an innovative pop maestro. The Beach Boys’ third studio album sold well upon its release, boasting popular hits “Surfer Girl,” “Catch a Wave,” and “Little Deuce Coupe,” and served as another step in the group’s sonic advancement. Several tracks stand among Wilson’s earliest odes to aching teenage melancholia—a theme around which he would eventually base his magnum opus Pet Sounds. Of these several tracks, the enchanting “Surfer Moon” marks Wilson’s earliest use of strings to accentuate his compositions. In its subtle inebriation, the melody overcomes the listener in the way that only adolescent pining will. “The Surfer Moon” also succeeds as a tight doo-wop ballad from a young group reaching a point of major transition, as well as a worthwhile track from those early days, not to be overlooked. (www.thebeachboys.com, www.brianwilson.com)

The Viscaynes: “Yellow Moon”

Before rising to prominence as progressive funk deity Sly Stone, Sylvester Stewart was a 17-year-old musical prodigy living in the Bay Area city of Vallejo, CA. In the early ’60s, Stewart, along with six of his fellow Vallejo High School classmates, was a member of a local doo-wop outfit known as The Viscaynes. Considering the group’s legacy as one of the first integrated doo-wop acts in the area, a clear sense of harmonious idealism can be detected in its songs, namely on the 1961 regional hit “Yellow Moon.” The track’s romantic lyrics—credited to songwriter George Motola and his wife Rickie Page—coupled with The Viscaynes’ shimmering harmonies, allow Stewart’s teenage earnestness to ring through with a knowing sort of innocence, amiable and sincere, foreshadowing the artistic greatness to come. Among the recording’s featured saxophonists is a young Jerry Martini, with whom Stewart would found Sly & The Family Stone in San Francisco some five years later. “Yellow Moon” is a piece of effective teenage pop from a group of very real kids, one of whom happened to possess the enormous talent and innovative vision to alter the course of modern music. (www.slystonemusic.com)

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