The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of old paperbacks and stale coffee. It was late, perhaps two in the morning, and the static-laced frequency of a coast-to-coast radio signal hummed against the glass of the window. I was studying, or pretending to, when the familiar, cascading introduction began. It was a piano phrase so distinctive, so melodically complete, that it instantly wipes the slate clean, demanding attention. It’s not just a riff; it’s a statement of purpose, a short, self-contained piece of music that signals the arrival of Bruce Hornsby’s definitive single, “The Way It Is.”
The year was 1986, but the song refused to be confined by the decade’s prevailing sonic trends. In a time when synthesizers were often used for their glossy, artificial sheen, Hornsby and his band, The Range, delivered a sound rooted in acoustic textures and timeless American traditions: rock, jazz, and folk. The track anchored their debut album of the same name, a record that quickly propelled Hornsby from seasoned journeyman to unexpected Grammy-winning breakout star. Producers Bruce Hornsby and Elliot Scheiner crafted a sound that was at once bright and sober, professional and profoundly sincere.
Hornsby’s career arc before this was the stuff of music business legend—years of paying dues, including stints as a session musician and a member of Sheena Easton’s backing band. The Way It Is arrived on RCA Records as a refreshing anomaly. It was a successful debut that did not chase trends; it simply laid claim to a style that was already fully formed.
The Architecture of a Truth: Sound and Instrumentation
The song is built on its rhythmic foundation and, crucially, the virtuoso performance at its center. The famous introduction—a rapid, syncopated flourish—is delivered on a grand piano with clarity and percussive attack. This piano is not merely a chordal backdrop; it is the lead instrument, the engine, and the rhythmic anchor all at once. Hornsby’s style, a fusion of classical rigor, jazz improvisation, and bluegrass complexity, is immediately apparent. The voicing of the chords is rich, dense, giving the whole arrangement a warm, natural resonance.
The rhythm section—Joe Puerta on bass and John Molo on drums—establishes a relaxed, slightly shuffling backbeat that hints at a heartland or folk-rock influence, far from the bombast of arena rock. The dynamics are restrained, allowing the texture of the acoustic piano and Hornsby’s clear, unaffected vocal phrasing to dominate the first two verses. This quiet intensity is a deliberate, cinematic choice, setting the stage for the narrative’s heavy thematic content. The bass line is wonderfully supportive, a round, articulate tone that walks alongside the piano without ever competing with it.
It is only when the song reaches its anthemic chorus that the sound opens up. Here, George Marinelli’s electric guitar and David Mansfield’s acoustic guitar and mandolin textures enter the mix subtly. The guitar work is textural, offering chiming arpeggios that fill the space above the core instrumentation rather than providing heavy riffs. It’s an arrangement defined by space and taste, where every instrument contributes exactly what is required and nothing more. The production masterfully captures a vibrant room feel, making the whole presentation feel intimate, as if the listener were seated just beyond the curve of the piano.
Lyrical Candor and the Cultural Moment
Beyond the undeniable musical hook, the reason for the song’s endurance lies in its lyrical courage. Hornsby tackles entrenched issues of racial and economic injustice head-on. He directly references the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the ongoing struggle for equality, framing the issues not as historical footnotes, but as present-day realities.
The verses paint vivid, specific scenes. The “man in the silk suit” and the “old black woman waiting for a ride” are not abstract concepts; they are tangible characters caught within the gears of a system that refuses to change. The repeated, almost mournful, refrain “That’s just the way it is” is delivered not as a resignation, but as a challenge. It embodies the bitter, exhausting realization that, despite legislative victories, fundamental attitudes and systemic barriers persist.
The song’s power stems from its contrast: a beautiful, musically sophisticated arrangement carrying a profoundly difficult message. This tension—the lush sound colliding with the stark social observation—is what makes the track so unsettlingly effective. It was a left-of-center intellectual pop hit in a mainstream environment saturated with less demanding material, a testament to the fact that mainstream radio, for a brief period, was hungry for substance.
In a modern context, while we often rely on a music streaming subscription to access thousands of tracks instantly, this song forces us to slow down, listen closely, and process the weight of its message. It’s a necessary, challenging listen.
“The Way It Is” is a masterclass in using pop structure to deliver a folk protest message with the compositional complexity of jazz.
The song’s lasting impact is confirmed by its adoption. Long before it became a source for hip-hop sampling—a later life that introduced the tune to a new generation—it was a staple for amateur musicians. Many aspiring players sought out piano lessons with the explicit goal of learning that signature intro, demonstrating how Hornsby managed to elevate a complex, classically influenced keyboard figure into a globally recognized pop motif. The song’s brilliance is that the complexity never overshadows the message; the artistry serves the conscience. This makes it far more than a nostalgia piece; it is a permanent entry in the American musical canon, one that compels us to look again, and again, at the world as it really is.
The Way It Is continues to be a standard, a quiet yet firm reminder that progress is never guaranteed and complacency is the enemy of justice. It stands as a monument to the power of a single, well-crafted song to bridge genres, eras, and cultural divides.
Listening Recommendations
- Don Henley – “The Boys of Summer” (Similar era and arrangement style, blending acoustic and synth textures with a melancholic, narrative focus.)
- Marc Cohn – “Walking in Memphis” (Piano-centric rock with a storytelling drive and a deep sense of Americana geography and history.)
- The Hooters – “And We Danced” (Features the same bright, propulsive acoustic piano sound and pop-rock sensibilities of the mid-80s.)
- Jackson Browne – “Running on Empty” (Narrative-driven folk-rock that pairs road-weariness with sharp cultural observation.)
- Tears for Fears – “Sowing the Seeds of Love” (Complex, genre-blending pop with explicit lyrical commentary on political and social issues.)
- Steely Dan – “Deacon Blues” (Showcases a similar jazz-informed harmonic richness and attention to sophisticated instrumentation.)