The genesis of a global smash hit is rarely a straight line. Often, it’s a zig-zag of false starts, critical rejections, and relentless refinement. The story of a-ha’s “Take On Me” is one such narrative: a perfect storm of Norwegian melodic instinct, British studio polish, and a pioneering music video that redefined the cultural currency of a pop song. This extraordinary piece of music, now inseparable from the decade it dominated, had to die twice before it could truly live.
Its first form, titled “Lesson One,” was a raw, early demo that carried the spark of an idea from keyboardist Magne Furuholmen’s teenage years. This initial, less-refined outing, and a subsequent recording produced by Tony Mansfield, failed to capture the imagination of the market, a devastating blow for a band who had moved across a continent to chase a sound. It was the third time, with producer Alan Tarney at the helm, that the Norwegian trio—Furuholmen, guitarist Pål Waaktaar, and vocalist Morten Harket—finally found the balance of glamour and emotional grit they were seeking. This final iteration of the track anchors their debut album, Hunting High and Low (1985), and sits precisely at the intersection of desperation and pure, unadulterated triumph.
The Sound of Persistence: Tarney’s Polish
Alan Tarney’s production is the alchemy that turned potential into pure gold. He took the existing elements and calibrated them for maximum emotional and sonic impact. The arrangement is a masterclass in dynamic contrast and controlled hysteria. It begins not with a bombast but a tense, metronomic drum machine pulse, a sound that immediately situates the listener in the futuristic landscape of 1985 synth-pop. This rhythmic backbone is quickly joined by a driving bassline, a simple but propulsive figure that locks everything into a forward momentum.
The instrumentation, contrary to common assumption, is not purely electronic. While the iconic, bumblebee-like synthesizer riff—delivered by a reported Roland JUNO-60—is the song’s unmistakable calling card, Tarney expertly wove in other elements. An acoustic guitar is subtly present in the rhythm section, adding a woody texture and a humanizing shimmer that cuts through the synthetic gleam. This layering provides a richness often missed in a cursory listen, preventing the track from feeling cold or overly robotic. The production captures an open, almost windswept quality, giving Harket’s vocals plenty of room to soar. The track, when played through a quality premium audio setup, reveals an astounding depth of field.
The Voice: A Three-Octave Leap into the Void
The heart of “Take On Me,” beyond its unforgettable synth hook, is Morten Harket’s phenomenal vocal performance. His phrasing is urgent, full of breathy plea and youthful exuberance in the verses. He manages to convey a sense of vulnerability, a protagonist running through a comic book world, trying to bridge the distance between two realities.
But it is the chorus that secures its place in pop history. The sudden, dizzying upward leap to the sustained high E is not just a high note; it is a moment of pure, concentrated catharsis. This three-octave vault in the space of a single word, “Me,” acts as the emotional release valve for the song’s pent-up tension. It’s a brilliant melodic device that mirrors the visual drama of the rotoscoped video—a human escaping their two-dimensional constraints. The effect is so powerful that it’s often the point where listeners who attempt karaoke are humbled, recognizing the sheer athletic power required to execute that sustained, piercing falsetto without faltering.
The Canvas and The Keyboard
Furuholmen’s piano and synthesizer work provides the song’s structural genius. The melody is deceptively complex for a pop hook; it moves with an almost arpeggiated speed, creating a feeling of spiraling motion, an escalating chase. It’s playful, kinetic, and utterly indelible, instantly recognizable from the very first few notes. The keys aren’t merely playing chords; they are painting a detailed, vibrant landscape.
In the bridge, the dynamic shifts, dropping into a more introspective, minor-key moment. The rhythm temporarily pulls back, letting Harket’s voice become more intimate, before the arrangement explodes once more into the final, glorious reprise of the chorus. This carefully mapped emotional arc, the push and pull between the verse’s urgency and the chorus’s release, is what elevates the song beyond simple novelty. It gave a generation of aspiring musicians an accessible entry point to modern song construction, perhaps even sparking the desire to take guitar lessons or keyboard classes to dissect its brilliance.
“Take On Me” is not merely a song. It’s a cultural portal, a four-minute distillation of 1980s ambition—slick, hopeful, and slightly desperate.
“The genius of ‘Take On Me’ is how it blends the synthetic coldness of its technology with a voice full of pure, naked human desperation.”
The track’s journey to global prominence in 1985 was dramatically accelerated by its revolutionary video, a short cinematic feat that established a template for music promotion. While the video’s innovative rotoscoping technique often overshadows the music itself, it’s crucial to remember that the song’s fundamental quality had to be there first. The visual narrative only cemented the track’s feeling of a breathless, romantic pursuit against impossible odds. It peaked at the number one position on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and reached number two in the UK Singles Chart, establishing a-ha as international superstars almost overnight—a long-awaited success following the initial failures.
The Micro-Story of Perpetual Youth
I remember first hearing the song not on MTV, but echoing out of an old car radio during a rain-streaked summer road trip, the tinny speakers struggling to handle the high notes. It didn’t need hi-fi fidelity; the melody itself was enough to pierce the gloom. Even now, decades later, when the song drops unexpectedly in a dim café or through a stranger’s earbuds, it immediately transports me. It is the sound of a promise, of fleeting youth captured in a burst of analog synthesizer magic and a voice stretching for the impossible. It’s a reminder that truly great pop music is about capturing a feeling—a universal human desire for connection—and setting it to an infectious, irresistible beat.
The enduring charm of a-ha’s signature piece is its universality. It crosses generations not just as a nostalgic relic, but as a technically brilliant, emotionally resonant anthem. The precision of the percussion, the shimmer of the synths, and Harket’s incredible, yearning high notes combine to create a perfect storm of synth-pop excellence. It remains, unquestionably, a cultural touchstone that manages to sound both exactly like its era and yet perpetually modern. A revisit is always warranted.
Listening Recommendations
- Tears For Fears – “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” (1985): Shares a similar optimistic, open soundscape and propulsive, yet sophisticated, arrangement from the same era.
- Alphaville – “Forever Young” (1984): Offers a comparable emotional grandeur and yearning, driven by a powerful synth melody and high-reaching vocals.
- Simple Minds – “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” (1985): Possesses the same dramatic, cinematic sweep and layered production that defined many mid-80s anthems.
- The Human League – “Don’t You Want Me” (1981): Features an iconic synth line and a core emotional conflict, showcasing the evolution of dramatic synth-pop storytelling.
- Frankie Goes to Hollywood – “Two Tribes” (1984): A maximalist production with intense dynamics and a dramatic, layered arrangement, reflective of the ambitious British production of the time.
- Eurythmics – “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” (1983): Built around a simple, unforgettable synth riff and an atmospheric sound, it demonstrates the power of minimal, electronic hooks.