The needle drops, and the air itself seems to soften. It is late afternoon, the light outside my studio window fading to that weary, late-winter grey. On my turntable, the Imperial Records single spins, releasing a sound that should, by all accounts, be pure, glossy pop optimism. Yet, listening to Jackie DeShannon’s 1965 interpretation of “What The World Needs Now Is Love” is not an act of simple surrender to saccharine cheer. It is an encounter with a profound, almost desperate simplicity, delivered at the exact moment the world was starting to spin violently off its axis.
This piece of music arrived at a crucial inflection point for both its singer and its songwriters. Jackie DeShannon, already a respected songwriter herself (having penned hits like “When You Walk in the Room” and co-written with a young Jimmy Page), was in the process of transitioning from a versatile rock-and-roll and folk-pop artist to a major mainstream voice. Her prior work had laid the groundwork, but this single, released on the Imperial label, provided the massive hit she needed.
The true significance of the song, however, lies in its provenance: the legendary partnership of Burt Bacharach and Hal David. Bacharach, known for his deceptively complex arrangements, served as both the producer and the arranger/conductor on the Bell Sound Studios session. Many sources note that David struggled for years with the lyrics, feeling the sheer scale of the sentiment was too vast for a three-minute pop song. The final result—a series of conversational, non-sermonizing pleas—managed to bypass the didacticism that had reportedly made Dionne Warwick initially balk at recording it.
What Bacharach delivered in the studio was not a mere backdrop, but a dynamic, cinematic structure for DeShannon’s vocal. The sound is immediately identifiable: that signature Bacharach architecture where every instrumental part contributes to an elaborate, almost architectural whole. The initial texture is sparse, dominated by a gentle, syncopated rhythm section and the wistful clarity of a vibraphone or electric piano echoing the main motif.
DeShannon enters with a remarkable, restrained intimacy. She delivers the opening lines—”Lord, we don’t need another mountain / There are mountains and hillsides enough to climb”—not with a shout, but with a weary resignation. Her voice is clear, possessing a slight, appealing tremble that suggests vulnerability, but never weakness. This is the grit beneath the glamour of the arrangement; the human voice grounding the orchestral sweep.
The arrangement gradually thickens with emotional weight. The rhythm section is taut, providing a constant, soft push against the melancholic waltz time. Unlike many pop records of the time, the guitar is not a driving force, but a colorist, offering delicate, high-register accents that shimmer in the wide, wet reverb Bacharach favored. This use of texture is key; it’s a track engineered for premium audio, demanding attention not through volume, but through the detailed placement of instruments.
The dynamics swell subtly as the chorus approaches, a careful build that never becomes bombastic. When the chorus arrives—”What the world needs now is love, sweet love”—the instrumentation blooms. A small, disciplined string section appears, its sustained chords adding a layer of warmth and gravitas. Crucially, the tempo and mood do not explode into typical chorus territory; they merely elevate, maintaining a tender, pleading quality. This is the Bacharach genius: making complexity sound effortless, using a sophisticated chord progression to evoke a sense of yearning rather than simple joy.
The middle section and bridge are masterclasses in controlled escalation. The background vocalists (reportedly including Cissy Houston) enter, their harmonies tight, soulful, and restrained, functioning almost as a gospel choir whose conviction has been smoothed down for pop radio. Their presence provides a spiritual resonance, echoing the lyric’s direct address to “Lord.” It is here that the song ceases to be merely a statement and becomes a call to action, albeit one delivered with the quiet dignity of a plea.
DeShannon’s performance throughout this piece is a study in emotional economy. Her phrasing is perfect, stretching the word “love” just slightly, a delicate vibrato catching on the syllable, making the request feel urgent and personal. She holds back, preserving a reservoir of feeling until the song’s climax. That climax is reached not through sheer volume, but through the combined forces of the orchestration—the tympani roll, the full swell of the strings, the layered vocals—all supporting DeShannon’s final, full-throated delivery of the main hook.
The genius is that the song’s inherent emotional weight is external to the singer. DeShannon is the messenger, the clear lens through which the audience perceives Hal David’s deceptively simple, yet profoundly challenging, moral imperative. She embodies the necessary restraint to let the composition speak for itself, transforming what could have been a bland sermon into a durable, humanistic anthem.
“What The World Needs Now Is Love” did not just chart well—peaking in the US Top 10 and hitting number one in Canada—it codified a new kind of social-commentary pop: one dressed in fine, orchestral clothes, yet retaining the passionate, honest heart of folk music. It spoke to the burgeoning anxiety of the mid-1960s, a period of escalating global conflict and social upheaval. The song offered an elegant, if idealistic, solution to a chaos that was beginning to define a generation.
The final fade is a slow, lingering retreat, leaving the listener suspended in the aftermath of the song’s grand, compassionate question. It doesn’t offer a final answer, only the quiet, persistent echo of “love, sweet love.”
“The genius is that the song’s inherent emotional weight is external to the singer; DeShannon is the clear lens through which the audience perceives the moral imperative.”
The album that housed this landmark track was This Is Jackie DeShannon, released later in 1965 on Imperial Records. It showcased her versatility, but this single would forever anchor her career arc in the public consciousness—a bridge between the hard-driving pop of her early years and the mature singer-songwriter she would become. The track stands as an essential artifact of the Bacharach/David canon, a rare example where a song rejected by one superstar found its definitive voice in the hands of another. It’s a timeless sentiment, rendered in an utterly specific, unforgettable sonic blueprint.
Listening Recommendations (The Soft Defiance Playlist)
- “Anyone Who Had a Heart” – Dionne Warwick (1963): For a deeper dive into the Bacharach/David melodrama, showcasing a similar sense of urgent, sophisticated pop.
- “Put a Little Love in Your Heart” – Jackie DeShannon (1969): A self-penned successor that provides a more driving, soul-inflected continuation of the theme of universal kindness.
- “I Say a Little Prayer” – Aretha Franklin (1968): Offers the same seamless blend of gospel-informed background vocals and complex Bacharach arrangement, but with greater emotional fire.
- “Different Drum” – The Stone Poneys featuring Linda Ronstadt (1967): Features a similar vocal clarity and a melancholy folk-rock arrangement where the singer asserts her emotional independence with quiet strength.
- “Eleanor Rigby” – The Beatles (1966): For another piece of pop music that uses orchestral string arrangements to imbue its lyrics about isolation and community with sophisticated sadness.