When Nostalgia Hits, You Know It’s Time for a Blue Moon
There are some songs that, the moment the first gentle, soaring note hits, transport you back to a specific time, a palpable feeling—a youthful ache for something lost or something simply out of reach. For a generation of listeners, especially those drawn to the thoughtful narratives of folk and country-folk, Nanci Griffith’s beautiful, wistful ballad, “Once In A Very Blue Moon,” is one such masterpiece. It’s a song that speaks to the infrequent, near-impossible return of a deeply felt, singular connection, a love that only comes around as often as the celestial event itself.
The Song’s Journey and Meaning
The song, penned not by Griffith but by the immensely talented writing duo Pat Alger and Eugene “Gene” Levine, served as the title track for Nanci Griffith’s third studio album, Once in a Very Blue Moon, released in 1985 (though sometimes cited as late 1984). It marked a subtle but significant evolution in her sound, embracing a fuller, more country-flavored arrangement than her earlier, sparser folk outings, a transition beautifully supported by the ensemble she affectionately dubbed “The Blue Moon Orchestra.” The single itself saw a modest but meaningful chart placement, reaching Number 85 on the Billboard Hot Country Songs chart in 1986. While not a massive crossover hit, this charting proved an early step in her ascent, showing Nashville that her distinct, literary style could resonate even on country radio.
The story behind “Once In A Very Blue Moon” is deceptively simple, yet rich with the universal pain of almost reconnecting. It begins with the arrival of a letter—a simple check-in from an old flame: “I found your letter in my mailbox today / You were just checkin’ if I was okay / And if I still miss you.” The entire song is the narrator’s silent, reflective answer. The core meaning is crystallized in the recurring refrain: the chance of their reunion or even the fading of the heartache is something that happens only “Just once in a very blue moon, and I feel one comin’ on soon.”
It’s a bittersweet meditation on love lost, not tragically, but simply through the passage of time and diverging paths. The “blue moon” is the metaphor for the brief, incredibly rare moment when the memory is so vivid it feels like the connection is renewed, only to crash back down to the quiet reality of separation. The song’s power is in its restraint; there’s no melodrama, just a profound, quiet sadness, particularly in the later realization: “You act as if it never hurt you at all / And I’m the only one whose gettin’ up from a fall.”
A Tender Legacy and Enduring Resonance
The song’s tender, haunting quality was immediately recognized. Its enduring status as a classic was cemented quickly when the legendary Dolly Parton recorded a cover on her 1985 album, Real Love, demonstrating the song’s broad appeal even outside of Griffith’s folk-leaning niche. However, it is Nanci Griffith’s rendition—with her crystalline, Texas-tinged voice and that signature lyrical precision—that remains definitive. She delivered the song not just as a singer, but as a genuine storyteller, drawing you into the faded photo album of the character’s memory.
For those of us who came of age with this song playing softly on a turntable or drifting through the car radio on a late summer night, it captures the essence of nostalgia—not just for a person, but for a former self. It evokes the long, quiet nights of wrestling with regret, realizing that some windows of opportunity, like a rare astronomical alignment, close as quickly as they open. The delicate acoustic work on the track, featuring greats like Béla Fleck on banjo and Mark O’Connor on fiddle, creates a beautiful, shimmering tapestry that perfectly supports the evocative imagery of moonlight and lonely reflection. It’s a masterclass in melancholy and a gentle, lingering reminder that some of the deepest feelings surface only once in a very blue moon.