Decades later, Frankie Muriel proves that his single “If I Say” still stands strong
A second sunrise always throws kinder light: with his album “I’m Still Standing,” Frankie Muriel tilts the day anew, and his reimagined “If I Say” arrives like warm bourbon poured over cracked ice—Americana steady, Country-bred, and unhurried. The project’s premise is elegant: revisit the song that first vaulted Muriel from smoky clubs to cavernous arenas, the Billboard-charting single that once flickered across MTV, and sing it again with lungs seasoned by decades. Indeed, the question—what does a late-fifties voice know that a twenty-something couldn’t?—becomes the track’s quiet voltage.
The production is laid-back, mid-tempo by design: mellow guitar figures glide alongside an easeful backbeat; violin and tranquil bass breathe beneath the melody; space is honored. Muriel’s timbre carries road dust and tenderness in equal measure, savoring phrases like postcards found in a jacket pocket. The lyric remains a pledge spelled in plain talk—counting stars, asking for tomorrow, promising to show up when loneliness prowls—yet the delivery now drapes those words in acceptance rather than urgency. However, the pulse never wilts; it strolls, head high, like a long walk to the mailbox that brings history home. In fact, this “If I Say” feels like a love letter sent twice—first in youth, then in wisdom—both stamped with the same heart, now addressed with steadier handwriting. The vibe is restorative, the aftertaste hopeful.
Enjoyed the read? Consider showing your support by leaving a tip for the writer
TRENDING NOW
A roof leaks from the inside first; by that law of damage and repair, Khi Infinite’s new single “HOUSE” reads like both confession and renovation permit. The Virginia native, fresh from a high-water…
Heartbreak teaches a sly etiquette: walk softly, speak plainly, and keep your ribs untangled. By that code, Ghanaian-Norwegian artist Akuvi turns “Let Me Know” into a velvet checkpoint, a chill Alternative/Indie R&B…
Call it velvet jet-lag: Michael O.’s “Lagos 2 London” taxis down the runway with a grin, a postcard of swagger written in guitar ink and pad-soft gradients. The groove is unhurried yet assured…
A Lagos evening teaches patience: traffic hums, neon blooms, and Calliemajik’s “No Way” settles over the city like warm rainfall. Producer-turned-troubadour, the Nigerian architect behind Magixx and Ayra Star’s “Love don’t cost a dime (Re-up)” now courts intimacy with quieter bravado…
Unspoken rule of Saturday nights: change your type, change the weather; on “Pretty Boys,” Diana Vickers tests that meteorology with a convertible grin and a sharpened tongue. Following the sherbet-bright comeback…
A good record behaves like weather: it arrives, it lingers, and it quietly teaches you what to wear. Sloe Paul — Searching / Finding is exactly that kind of climate—nine days of pop-weather calibrated for the slow slide into autumn…
There’s a superstition that moths trust the porch light more than the moon; Meredith Adelaide’s “To Believe I’m the Sun” wonders what happens when that porch light is your own chest, humming. Across eight pieces of Indie Folk and Soft Pop parsimony…
Every scar keeps time like a metronome; on Chris Rusin’s Songs From A Secret Room, that pulse becomes melody—ten pieces of Indie Folk/Americana rendered with candlelight patience and front-porch candor. The Colorado songwriter, now three years…
Cold seasons teach a quiet grammar: to stay, to breathe, to bear the weather. Laura Lucas’s latest single “Let The Winter Have Me,” arriving through Nettwerk, alongside her album “There’s a Place I Go,” treats that grammar as a vow…
A campfire flickers on the prairie while the city votes to forget—rrunnerrss, the eponymous debut by the Austin-born band rrunnerrss led by award-winning songwriter and composer Michael Zapruder, arrives as both shelter and flare…