Can't Get Used To Losing You

Can't Get Used To Losing You: Andy Williams and the Art of the Ache

Some songs arrive in perfect alignment with the emotional temperature of their moment. The spring of 1963 was a season of considerable pop sophistication, when American radio still made room for the kind of polished, orchestrated adult balladry that Andy Williams had made his particular domain. The easy-listening tradition he represented was not yet embattled; it was still a powerful commercial force, and "Can't Get Used To Losing You" would prove to be one of the era's most durable expressions of romantic regret. It has the quality, rare in any genre, of sounding permanent from the moment you first hear it.

Williams at His Peak

By early 1963, Andy Williams was one of the most reliably successful recording artists in the country. His television variety program had expanded his audience beyond the record-buying public into living rooms that might otherwise never have engaged with the pop charts, and his vocal style, warm and technically immaculate, had become a kind of gold standard for the genre. He was the kind of artist who could walk into a recording session with the right song and know, with reasonable confidence, that the result would find its audience. The confidence was earned; he had the track record to back it up.

The Song's Construction

Written by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, two of the era's most accomplished songwriting partners, "Can't Get Used To Losing You" has the internal logic of a well-made machine: every section leads naturally to the next, the title phrase arrives with the weight of inevitability, and the arrangement builds just enough tension to make the resolution feel satisfying. Williams's delivery is careful, measured, and emotionally precise throughout. He does not overplay the grief; he inhabits it at a conversational temperature, finding the right degree of expression for each phrase, which paradoxically makes it feel more real and more quietly painful than a more theatrical approach would have achieved. The craft is invisible, which is the best kind of craft.

Fifteen Weeks and a Near-Miss at Number One

The chart performance was exceptional. The single debuted at number 82 on March 2, 1963, then climbed with impressive consistency, moving through the fifties, forties, and thirties before accelerating into the top twenty. It peaked at number 2 on April 13, 1963, falling just short of the summit, and spent fifteen weeks on the Billboard Hot 100. That endurance is remarkable by any standard; spending a quarter of a year on the chart requires a record that the public keeps choosing to engage with rather than one that burns bright and vanishes. Fifteen weeks is a vote of confidence that goes beyond mere popularity.

The Easy-Listening World of 1963

The pop landscape that Williams occupied in 1963 was about to change substantially, and the elegance of what he represented would soon be competing with far louder, more electric sounds from across the Atlantic. For the moment, though, the orchestrated adult ballad was still a dominant form, and record labels invested seriously in the production values that made these records work: strings that actually cost something, arrangers who understood how to support a voice without overwhelming it, and mastering that translated beautifully to the radio formats of the day. Williams benefited from all of that investment, and he repaid it with performances that justified the expense.

A Song That Stuck Around

The longevity of "Can't Get Used To Losing You" in the broader culture is a testament to the quality of its construction. Williams revisited it across his career, and the song accumulated cover versions over the decades, each new recording confirming that the Pomus-Shuman original had located something genuinely true in the emotional vocabulary of loss. Press play and hear why number two felt, to everyone who loved this record, like it should have been number one.

"Can't Get Used To Losing You" — Andy Williams's singular moment on the 1960s charts.