The magic of this specific “cure” lies in the element of surprise. When the video starts, you see Dave Fenley—a man who looks like he belongs in a woodshop or on the back of a Harley. He has the rugged beard, the signature hat, and a physical presence that screams “traditional outlaw country.”

Then, he opens his mouth.
The sound that emerges is a defy-the-laws-of-physics blend of gravelly baritone and silky-smooth soul. It is the musical equivalent of finding out a grizzly bear can play the flute. This cognitive dissonance—the gap between what we see and what we hear—triggers an immediate sense of wonder. For a viewer having a bad day, this surprise is the first step in breaking a cycle of negative thoughts. It forces you to pay attention. It forces you to smile.
Why It Makes You Laugh (In the Best Way Possible)
You mentioned that even after five viewings, it still makes you laugh. This isn’t a laugh of ridicule; it’s a laugh of pure delight. There are several layers to why Fenley’s performance evokes this reaction:
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The “Vocal Acrobatics”: Fenley doesn’t just sing the melody; he plays with it. He hits runs and riffs that are so technically difficult yet executed with such ease that it becomes humorous. It’s the “how is he doing that?” factor.
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The Facial Expressions: Dave Fenley is a highly expressive performer. He reacts to his own voice. You’ll see him hit a particularly soul-drenched note and then give a little half-smile or a look of “Yeah, that felt good” to the camera. It breaks the “fourth wall” and makes the viewer feel like they are in on the joke.
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The “One-Man Band” Energy: In many versions of this performance, Fenley uses his guitar as a percussion instrument and incorporates beatboxing or rhythmic vocalizations. Watching one human being produce a full-band sound while maintaining a soulful lead vocal is inherently entertaining. It’s a spectacle of talent that feels playful rather than pretentious.
The “Lionel Richie” Factor: Nostalgia as Medicine
We cannot overlook the source material. Lionel Richie’s “Stuck on You” is a song baked into the collective consciousness of the 1980s. It is a “comfort food” song. It’s simple, it’s wholesome, and it’s about the relief of coming home.
By choosing this specific track, Fenley taps into a deep well of nostalgia. For many, this song reminds them of childhood, of car rides with parents, or of a simpler era of pop music. When Fenley “reimagines” it, he strips away the polished 80s synthesizers and replaces them with raw, organic soul. He takes a “pretty” song and makes it “gritty.” This transformation feels like a fresh coat of paint on a beloved childhood home. It’s familiar enough to be safe, but new enough to be exciting.
The Psychology of the “Replay”
Why do we watch it five times in a row?
Psychologically, when we find a piece of media that shifts our mood from “bad” to “good,” our brain craves a repeat of that chemical release. Watching Dave Fenley perform is a hit of dopamine and oxytocin.
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Dopamine comes from the musical surprises and the technical skill.
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Oxytocin comes from the sense of connection. Fenley performs with a “look-at-the-camera” intimacy that makes the viewer feel seen.
On a bad day, your world feels small and dark. A video like this expands that world. It reminds you that there is talent, humor, and light-heartedness still circulating in the world. It’s a reminder that humans are capable of creating beautiful, silly, and soul-stirring things.
More Than Just a Cover: A Lesson in Authenticity
In a world of “AI-generated” everything and over-tuned pop stars, Dave Fenley represents the authentic human spirit. He isn’t trying to be Lionel Richie. He isn’t trying to fit into a specific Nashville country mold. He is simply Dave, playing a song he loves in a way that feels right to him.
This authenticity is the “active ingredient” in the cure. Bad days are often fueled by feeling like we aren’t enough, or that we have to perform a certain way for the world. Seeing a man be so unapologetically himself—mixing country, soul, and beatboxing with a wink and a smile—is permission for us to be ourselves, too.