About the song

There’s a kind of quiet longing that runs through Barry Manilow’s “I Can’t Get Started” — a tenderness wrapped in wistful resignation. Originally written by Vernon Duke and Ira Gershwin in 1936, the song became a standard of yearning through the decades, covered by countless voices. Yet when Barry Manilow took it on, he gave it something deeply personal — a certain vulnerability that only he seems to know how to express.

Manilow’s rendition feels like late night reflections under dim light — that moment when you sit by yourself, a drink in hand, thinking about all the dreams you’ve chased and the one love that still eludes you. His voice doesn’t simply perform the lyrics; it confides them. Every phrase carries both the ache of remembrance and the warmth of acceptance. There’s a sincerity in his delivery that makes the song feel less like a performance and more like an open journal — pages written in melody and memory.

Musically, Manilow’s version honors the elegance of the classic American songbook while adding his signature touch — lush orchestration, restrained emotion, and that unmistakable Manilow phrasing that turns even the simplest line into a story. It bridges eras: the romantic melancholy of the swing generation meets the smooth storytelling of the 1970s pop ballad.

Listening to “I Can’t Get Started” today is like stepping into a softly lit time capsule. It’s a reminder of when songs weren’t about spectacle, but about feelings — about the quiet spaces between what we wanted and what we lost. Manilow captures that perfectly. For anyone who’s ever achieved everything except the one heart they truly wanted, this song still feels achingly, beautifully true.

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