FEATURE:
A Deal with God
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1989/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
Kate Bush and a Positive Approach to Love
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I have written other Kate Bush features…
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush and Michael Hervieu in the video for Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
where I said I would keep it short and, inevitably, it would be quite a long and drawn-out thing! This time around, it will be a little more succinct! I recently wrote about Bush’s approach to love and the sort of language she employs. Right from her earliest work, there was something in the lyrics that was very different to anything else around. She would mix quite poetic and florid descriptions alongside sentiments that were quite explicit and left very little to the imagination. At other times, she would articulate lust and passion better than anyone else and, in every song, she was written from her heart and mind – and not following what was commercial and plain. I might write a feature in the future about Kate Bush’s influences and how she nodded to artists like Laura Nyro and David Bowie, and how their approach to writing might have shaped Bush in some way. Following on from my previous feature regarding love and how Bush approached that, I wanted to highlight her positive side. The title of this feature was the original title for one of her most-famous songs, Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God). As some American quarters were rather conservative and there was a fear the song would not be picked up in the U.S. because of the mention of ‘God’ – even though there is no blasphemy involved -, A Deal with God was changed to the less-striking, Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God).
That Hounds of Love track was released on 5th August, 1985. It did not reach number-one (it got to number-four here), but it remains one of Bush’s most-recognisable and iconic moments. I will look back at earlier albums from her, but the 1985 masterpiece celebrates its thirty-fifth anniversary in September, and it will be examined and have features written about it. I think its best-known song is so timeless and wonderous because of the sentiments expressed. Although there is a lot of fear and uncertainty expressed through the album – predominantly on the second side, The Ninth Wave, and Mother Stands for Comfort -, I think there is an optimism and sense of understanding that bonds one closer to Kate Bush. In an interview with Richard Skinner from 1991, Bush had this to say about Running Up That Hill:
“I was trying to say that, really, a man and a woman can't understand each other because we are a man and a woman. And if we could actually swap each other's roles, if we could actually be in each other's place for a while, I think we'd both be very surprised! [Laughs] And I think it would lead to a greater understanding. And really the only way I could think it could be done was either... you know, I thought a deal with the devil, you know. And I thought, 'well, no, why not a deal with God!' You know, because in a way it's so much more powerful the whole idea of asking God to make a deal with you. You see, for me it is still called "Deal With God", that was its title. But we were told that if we kept this title that it would not be played in any of the religious countries, Italy wouldn't play it, France wouldn't play it, and Australia wouldn't play it! Ireland wouldn't play it, and that generally we might get it blacked purely because it had God in the title”.
PHOTO CREDIT: Gered Mankowitz
A little earlier, in 1985, she spoke with The Times, and remarked:
“It seems that the more you get to know a person, the greater the scope there is for misunderstanding. Sometimes you can hurt somebody purely accidentally or be afraid to tell them something because you think they might be hurt when really they'll understand. So what that song is about is making a deal with God to let two people swap place so they'll be able to see things from one another's perspective”.
It might have something to do with the fact that Bush was in a positive space and frame of mind when she was writing for Hounds of Love, but that natural inclination to write about relationships from an understanding and warm place is inspiring. Think about a lot of the more commercial artists who were around her at that time, and there were a lot of songs about blame, broken hearts and negativity. I am not suggesting the majority of love songs are break-up tracks where someone is pointing the finger, but it rare to find an artist who has a very healthy and positive nature when it comes to love, disagreements and break-ups. Although Kate Bush, like some of her peers, did not court a lot of tabloid gossiping and engage in high-profile romance, she is someone who has had her heart broken or broken the heart of a man. One could forgive her for being scornful and accusatory in her tracks, but there is always this aspect of hope and balance – something g I touched on when I wrote about her lyrics last time around. I wanted to expand on that feature and talk about the purely positive side of her music. Running Up That Hill is a song where she is trying to put herself in the shoes of the man; she wonders what it would be like if men and women could trade places so they could see what it is like to be them and, maybe, that would make relationships stronger, or provide this sense of respect and patience that you do not often encounter. Long before 1985, Bush was putting out these very pragmatic and hopeful songs. Maybe Bush had very little interest in airing her dirty laundry or being angry in music. Look at one of her earliest songs, The Man with the Child in His Eyes (from 1978’s The Kick Inside), and that was about a young girl and older man. The man had this innocence and child-like quality in him, but nobody else knows about this man. Bush said that she wrote the song as she admired how most men/boys had this sort of magic inside them and a child-like innocence that never really went away. Rather than framing it in a song that lambasts immaturity and a lack of growth, Bush decided to use that observation and frame it in a beautiful way – The Man with the Child in His Eyes was written when Bush was thirteen, and it was about her then-boyfriend (and her first boyfriend) Steve Blacknell.
Even when a song has a slightly rawer quality, like Lionheart’s Don’t Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake, there is this defiance to be found – “Don't drive too slowly/Don't put your blues where your shoes should be”. Even when a song dealt with something fictional with an element of deception – like Never for Ever’s Babooshka -, there is not really any real anger and sorrow to be heard. Never for Ever’s All We Ever Look For seems to be about searching for meaning and something more; its stable-mate, The Wedding List, is a humorous tale of a groom being shot at his wedding (it does not sound as dark as I make it seem!), but we do not get Bush blaming a man or opening a bleeding heart. Maybe it is because, even when she is discussing the loss of love or the throes of passion, she is often writing about characters or not directly referencing herself. Her language is exquisite and unique, but that might suggest Bush does not do the direct and bare. Far from it: she is capable of letting her pain show but, even then, it is more about healing and coping rather than trying to kick someone and be negative. I will not go through album-by-album, but there are a couple of tracks from 1982’s The Dreaming where there is an interesting perspective on a relationship. The gorgeous Night of the Swallow is one where an adult relationship is seen through the prism of a child’s view/bond with their mother. Bush remarked the following in a Melody Maker interview from 1982:
"In this song she wants to control him and because he wants to do something that she doesn't want him to she feels that he is going away. It's almost on a parallel with the mother and son relationship where there is the same female feeling of not wanting the young child to move away from the nest. Of course, from the guy's point of view, because she doesn't want him to go, the urge to go is even stronger. For him, it's not so much a job as a challenge; a chance to do something risky and exciting”.
I wrote a feature about The Dreaming’s Houdini not long ago, and I love it so much, as it concerns Harry Houdini and his wife, Bess; the fact that they have this special code they only they know as Bush sings about the escapologist hitting the water and wondering if he will be able to escape from the watery depths. One could explain Bush’s lack of negativity because she is a very nice and warm person. She had some breakups when she was younger and, even though her and long-time boyfriend Del Palmer (who she still works with today) were very much in love, they did have fights and bad periods. Other songwriters would have been desperate to get that hurt and stress off of their chests, but Bush’s default setting is to find the good in everything and approach something as hard-hitting as a relationship crumbling in a very constructive way. Hounds of Love was when she was at her happiest (she would enjoy similar happiness and contentment when writing 2005’s Aerial), so it might have been counter-intuitive to pen music that was sorrowful. I cannot think of many other artists who have rarely written a bad-natured or negative love song – or any song for that matter. Bush has written songs where she examines her own state of mind, anxieties and sadness, but she is not one for firing shots and engaging in confrontation. Hounds of Love’s The Ninth Wave is Bush looking for safety, home and the embrace of her loved ones. Whilst Bush was rarely aggressive and blame-shifting, she was often vulnerable and exceptionally moving. Consider this lyrics from The Dreaming’s All the Love: “Only tragedy allows the release/Of love and grief never normally seen/I didn't want to let them see me weep/I didn't want to let them see me weak/But I know I have shown/That I stand at the gates alone”. The Sensual World is an album of great beauty and self-examination, and that endless desire to find common ground, to embrace peace and love. Love and Anger might suggest Bush cast aside and shouting out against being wronged, but it is one of her most tender and moving tracks – “Tell you what I'm feeling/But I don't know if I'm ready yet/You come walking into this room/Like you're walking into my arms/What would I do without you?”. Though Between a Man and a Woman starts with an argument – from a third-person perspective -, Bush is not blaming the man or taking sides; there is an objective truth (“But the truth lies somewhere in the middle”, as she says). 1993’s The Red Shoes has mystery and questions about the right one to love – Why Should I Love You? -, and of bouncing back time and time again – Rubberband Girl -, and, through it all, there is this strength-against-the-odds mantras combined with searching, sensuality and deep curiosity – hallmarks one can find on all Kate Bush albums. Although this feature is turning out to be longer than anticipated, I want to finish by quoting from an interesting article. I do think that it is amazing how Bush has remained positive and shied away from love songs that have a sour tone.
Bush has experienced loss in her life – her mother died in 1992; she ended a long-term relationship at the time of The Red Shoes, and she has seen friends pass -, but she never strikes out at the world and writes these songs that make you feel uncomfortable. Instead, Bush tries to find sense and reason; always looking for a positive in the darkness - or, at the very least, some safe footing and place where she can recharge and reflect. A lot of her songs do employ characters or versions of herself – as she has said how she finds it more interesting to write from this perspective -, but I really love how there is this whiff of eccentricity and the unusual in every album. Consider Misty from 50 Words for Snow where a woman spends the night with a snowman, awakes and find he has melted (“Sunday morning/I can't find him/The sheets are soaking”); Mrs. Bartolozzi (from Aerial), is a tale of the mundane nature of domestic life and housework but, this being Kate Bush, there is eroticism and the fantastical to be found. I think Bush’s lyrical approach is very uplifting, because she can be honest and open with the listener, but one never feels uncomfortable or ill at ease. I think this is one big reason why Bush has inspired so many female songwriters – from Tori Amos and k.d. lang through to Solange Knowles and Natasha Khan (Bat for Lashes).
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari
In a feature for Her Campus, Ellie Spenceley highlighted Kate Bush as a feminist icon, and why she is such a much-loved and influential person:
“On both a lyrical and practical level, Bush laid groundwork for women being able to exist unapologetically in an otherwise male-dominated industry. Her lyrics are confessional and tender. She demonstrates a stunning versatility in subject matter, being able to go from a slow and emotionally charged ballad like ‘You’re The One’ to a more upbeat song like ‘Babooshka’ in a manner that never steers from a central identifiable style. Her music is raw and tender, encapsulating feelings of loss, grief and simply being allowed to feel. It is no surprise that in 2018 she released a book, ‘How to Be Invisible’, filled with lyrics from her songs, notable as they are in their encapsulation of the dynamic nature of the female experience. Bush is able to light a fire of hope inside all of us when she sings lyrics like ‘I just know that something good is gonna happen’ in ‘Cloudbusting’, speak to our desperate desire to feel significant in ‘Running Up That Hill’ when she says ‘Tell me, we both matter, don’t we?’, and speak to a universal desire to be set free from rigid societal expectation in the experimental ‘Leave It Open’ when she says that ‘we let the weirdness in’.
What makes Kate great is that she is able to be so distinctly personal whilst reaching out and resonating so stunningly with multiple generations of women and making them feel seen. Catherine Pierce from The Pierces said that Running Up That Hill felt like Kate was ‘reading her heart’, and this is a common feeling. In the introduction to her lyric book, David Mitchell says that a ‘paradox about her is that while her lyrics are avowedly idiosyncratic, those same lyrics evoke emotions and sensations that feel universal’. No stone is left unturned; every emotion is acknowledged, explored, displayed without shame”.
The warmth, intelligence and imagination Bush has laced into her music since her debut album is one reason why she is my favourite album ever. I have approached Bush’s songs and lyrics from different angles over the past few years, but I have been listening to her music a lot more lately than normal, and I am getting a lot from it. Bush can connect and dig into the heart, but there is this abiding aura of positivity and understanding. It takes me back to the opening and discussion around the song, Running Up That Hill. There is a section of the song that seems to underline what I say about Bush being able to feel pain and the capriciousness of love and human relationships but, rather than put her hands up to attack, her arms are open to accept and talk: “Is there so much hate for the ones we love?/Tell me, we both matter, don't we?”. Songs that are raw in their confessional tone can stay in the mind and give one strength (through this feeling of shared emotion and relatability), but taking a practical, communicative and open-hearted approach to love, loss and heartache…
IS so much more powerful.