Honestly, if you want to understand the sheer, unadulterated power of a vocal arrangement, you have to listen to Luther Vandross. Specifically, you need to sit with his 1986 version of Anyone Who Had a Heart.
It’s a masterclass.
Most people know the song from Dionne Warwick. Written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David in 1963, that original version is iconic—all nervous energy and shifting time signatures. It’s frantic. It’s desperate. But when Luther got his hands on it for the Give Me the Reason album, he didn't just cover it. He rebuilt it from the floor up. He turned a pop-soul standard into an eight-minute epic of yearning and silk.
It’s one of those tracks that defines an era of R&B. You’ve probably heard it on late-night radio or during a wedding dinner, but have you actually listened to what he’s doing with his voice?
Why the Luther Vandross Anyone Who Had a Heart Cover Changed Everything
Bacharach’s music is notoriously difficult. He loves 7/8 and 5/8 time signatures that make singers trip over their own feet. It’s jerky. It’s jagged. Dionne Warwick handled it like a pro, but she kept that sharp, staccato edge.
Luther changed the math.
He smoothed it out into a luxurious, mid-tempo groove that felt like expensive velvet. He slowed the heartbeat of the song down. By the time he gets to the bridge, he isn't just singing lyrics; he’s conducting an emotional symphony. Musicians often talk about "pocket"—that space in the rhythm where a singer sits. Luther didn't just find the pocket; he owned the whole suit.
Think about the production in 1986. We were in the thick of the "Quiet Storm" radio format. Everything was about high-end synthesizers, crisp drum machines, and that specific, shimmering reverb. Producers Marcus Miller and Luther Vandross (who co-produced nearly all his hits) knew exactly what they were doing. They created a sonic environment where a voice like Luther's could float.
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The Marcus Miller Connection
You can't talk about this song without mentioning Marcus Miller. His bass playing on this track is legendary among session musicians. It’s subtle, but it drives the whole emotional arc. Miller and Luther had a psychic connection. They knew when to let the music breathe and when to let the vocal runs take center stage.
In many ways, this track is the bridge between 60s songwriting craftsmanship and 80s R&B sophistication. It proved that a great song is timeless if the interpreter is brave enough to mess with the blueprint.
The Technical Brilliance of the "Luther Flip"
What most people get wrong about Luther Vandross is thinking he was just a "crooner." That word is too small for him. He was a vocal architect.
On Anyone Who Had a Heart, he does this thing—let’s call it the "Luther Flip"—where he transitions from a rich, chest-voice baritone to a light-as-air head voice within a single syllable. He does it without a break. It's seamless. Most singers have a "break" or a "bridge" in their voice where the tone changes. Luther’s voice was a solid piece of polished marble.
- He starts the song almost in a whisper.
- He builds the tension by repeating phrases—"knowing I love you so"—with different inflections each time.
- He uses his background singers (including the legendary Cissy Houston and Lisa Fischer) as a literal wall of sound.
- The climax isn't just loud; it's dense with harmony.
If you listen to the multi-tracks of this song, you’d see dozens of vocal layers. Luther was a perfectionist. He would spend hours, sometimes days, just getting the "oohs" and "aahs" of the background vocals to sound like a single instrument. He learned this as a session singer back in the 70s, backing up everyone from David Bowie to Bette Midler. By the time he recorded Give Me the Reason, he was the undisputed king of the studio.
The Emotional Stakes: Why We Still Care
Why does this specific version resonate so much more than the dozens of other covers? (And trust me, everyone from Dusty Springfield to Linda Ronstadt has tried it).
It’s the vulnerability.
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Luther Vandross lived a complicated life. He was a man who sang about love with more conviction than almost anyone in history, yet he often spoke about his own loneliness. When he sings the line, "Anyone who had a heart would take me in their arms and love me," it feels heavy. It doesn't feel like a pop lyric. It feels like a plea.
He takes a song that was originally about a specific breakup and turns it into a universal anthem for the lonely. The way he stretches out the word "anyone" at the six-minute mark—it’s like he’s searching the room for someone to listen.
Comparisons to the Original
- Dionne Warwick (1963): 3 minutes long. Fast, frantic, orchestral pop. It’s a sprint.
- Luther Vandross (1986): 6+ minutes (depending on the edit). Slow, soulful, atmospheric. It’s a marathon.
Warwick’s version is about the shock of heartbreak. Luther’s version is about the ache that stays in your bones long after the person is gone. Both are brilliant, but Luther’s version is the one you play when you’re alone at 2:00 AM.
Impact on the Charts and Legacy
When Give Me the Reason dropped, Luther was already a star, but this album made him a superstar. It went double platinum. "Anyone Who Had a Heart" wasn't the biggest radio hit on the album—that was probably "Stop to Start" or "There's Nothing Better Than Love"—but it became the "connoisseur’s choice."
It’s the track that other singers study.
If you go to a vocal coach today and ask about breath control or phrasing, there is a very high chance they will pull up a Luther Vandross clip. He had this way of singing through the consonants that kept the melody moving. Most singers stop the sound when they hit a 't' or a 'p.' Luther didn't. He kept the air flowing. It’s a technique called "legato," and he was the master of it.
The Tragedy of the 2003 Stroke and Loss
We lost Luther too soon. In 2003, he suffered a massive stroke that effectively ended his singing career, though he did manage to release one last masterpiece with Dance with My Father. He passed away in 2005.
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Since then, his version of Anyone Who Had a Heart has only grown in stature. In the age of Auto-Tune and heavily processed vocals, hearing a man actually sing like this feels like a transmission from another planet. There’s no pitch correction here. There’s no "fixing it in the mix." It’s just talent, hard work, and a lot of heart.
Critics sometimes dismissed Luther as being too "smooth" or "easy listening." They were wrong. Being this smooth is incredibly difficult. It requires immense physical strength and vocal discipline. Try singing "Anyone Who Had a Heart" in your car. You’ll be out of breath by the second chorus. Luther makes it sound like he's breathing out smoke.
Real Talk: Is it the Best Version?
Music is subjective. Bacharach himself reportedly loved Luther's interpretation because it found a new rhythmic logic in the song. If the songwriter gives it the thumbs up, that's usually the final word.
For many in the Black community, Luther wasn't just a singer; he was the soundtrack to every major life event. "Anyone Who Had a Heart" wasn't just a cover; it was an reclamation of a classic song through the lens of Black soul and gospel-infused precision.
How to Truly Appreciate the Track Today
If you really want to experience what Luther was doing, don't just stream it on your phone speakers.
- Get a good pair of headphones. You need to hear the separation between the bass and the keyboards.
- Listen to the background vocals. Specifically, listen to how they swell during the final two minutes. Luther arranged them to sound like a pipe organ.
- Pay attention to the "ad-libs" at the end. In the final fade-out, Luther is doing some of his most complex vocal runs. Most singers save their best stuff for the middle. Luther was still giving 100% as the track was disappearing into silence.
The reality is that we probably won't see another singer like Luther Vandross. The industry has changed. The way we record has changed. But we have the tapes. We have the recordings.
Anyone Who Had a Heart stands as a monument to what happens when a perfect song meets a perfect singer. It’s more than R&B. It’s more than pop. It’s a masterclass in how to be human through a microphone.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers
- Study the Phrasing: If you’re a singer, record yourself singing along to Luther. Notice where he takes breaths. It’s almost never where you think he will.
- Explore the Album: Don't just stop at this song. The entire Give Me the Reason album is a blueprint for 80s R&B production.
- Check the Songwriter: Look into the Bacharach/David catalog. Seeing how other artists (like Aretha Franklin or Isaac Hayes) handled their songs will give you a deeper appreciation for Luther's unique choices.
- Watch Live Performances: Go to YouTube and find his live version at the Royal Albert Hall. Seeing the physical effort it took for him to produce that "effortless" sound is eye-opening.
The next time you hear those opening notes—that soft, synth-driven pulse—don't just let it be background noise. Let it take you in its arms. That’s what Luther would have wanted.
Next Steps for Deep Listening:
Start by comparing the 1963 Dionne Warwick original with Luther's 1986 version back-to-back. Notice the tempo difference—Luther slows it down by nearly 15 beats per minute. This change allows the emotional weight of the lyrics to land harder. After that, listen to "A House Is Not a Home" from his 1981 debut. It follows a similar pattern: taking a Bacharach/Warwick classic and expanding it into a soul epic. You'll start to see the "Luther Method"—a specific way of honoring the past while completely redefining the future of R&B.