You know that feeling when a synth line hits and suddenly you're in a pencil-sketch universe? That’s the magic of take on me take me, a lyrical hook that has basically lived rent-free in the collective consciousness of the planet since 1984. Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle that a three-piece band from Norway—a place not exactly known for pop dominance in the early eighties—managed to craft a song so ubiquitous it still triggers instant dopamine in 2026.
Most people think "Take On Me" was an overnight success. It wasn't. Far from it. The song actually flopped twice before it became a global monster. Most people also get the lyrics slightly wrong or don't realize that the "take me on" vs "take on me" phrasing was a bit of a linguistic gamble for native Norwegian speakers trying to master English idioms. It's a song about vulnerability, sure, but it's mostly a masterclass in how a revolutionary visual can turn a decent pop song into a cultural artifact.
The Rough Birth of Take On Me Take Me
The story begins with a riff. Pål Waaktaar and Magne Furuholmen had this melody back when they were in a band called Bridges. It was clunky. It was called "The Juicy Fruit Song." Can you imagine? Morten Harket joined later, bringing that impossible falsetto, and they reworked the track into what we recognize today. But the first version, produced by Tony Mansfield, sounded thin. It lacked the punch. It sold maybe a few hundred copies.
They didn't give up. They re-recorded it with Alan Tarney. This version had the "wall of sound" synth energy. Yet, even then, it didn't ignite the charts until the music video happened. That video, directed by Steve Barron, utilized rotoscoping—a technique where animators trace over live-action footage frame by frame. It took sixteen weeks to complete. Sixteen weeks of hand-drawing thousands of frames to create the world where a girl falls in love with a comic book hero.
The phrase take on me take me became the pulse of that visual narrative. When Morten Harket reaches out his hand from the comic book page, he isn't just singing lyrics; he's inviting the viewer into a different reality.
That Impossible High Note
Let’s talk about the vocals. Morten Harket’s range is borderline offensive. He hits a high E (E5) at the climax of the chorus. Most male singers struggle to get anywhere near that without sounding like they're being stepped on. Harket does it with a weird, airy precision.
The lyrical structure of "Take on me (take on me) / Take me on (take on me)" creates a call-and-response dynamic that is essentially a brain worm. It's repetitive but escalating. Musicologists often point out that the song uses a classic "i-IV-VII-III" chord progression in the verses, which feels nostalgic even the first time you hear it. But the chorus shifts the energy entirely. It’s a plea. It’s desperate.
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Interestingly, the English isn't quite "standard." In Norwegian, "ta på meg" literally means "touch me" or "take on me." The phrase "take me on" usually implies a challenge or a fight in English. But in the context of the song, it feels like a request for emotional acceptance. This slight linguistic "offness" actually makes it more memorable. It feels alien and intimate all at once.
Why the 1985 Production Still Holds Up
Listen to the drums. They aren't the huge, gated-reverb snares that ruined a lot of 80s tracks. They’re crisp. The LinnDrum pattern provides a driving, relentless foundation that keeps the song from feeling too flowery.
Then there’s the DX7. The Yamaha DX7 synthesizer defined the mid-80s, and "Take On Me" is perhaps its greatest advertisement. That bright, percussive "pipe organ" sound in the riff? That’s pure 1985. But because the melody is so strong, it doesn't feel like a museum piece.
The Covers and the Legacy
Over the years, everyone from Weezer to Kygo has tried to bottle this lightning. Weezer’s cover was a literal homage, even bringing back the original video's vibe with Finn Wolfhard. Kygo’s remix stripped it down for the tropical house era. But the most haunting version is a-ha’s own acoustic performance for MTV Unplugged in 2017.
When you hear take on me take me sung by a 58-year-old Morten Harket in a somber, slowed-down arrangement, the meaning changes. It’s no longer a teen romance; it’s a song about the passage of time and the fragility of life. It proved that the song wasn't just a product of 80s production—it was a beautifully written piece of music at its core.
The Technical Wizardry of Rotoscoping
We can't ignore the pencil. Michael Patterson and Candace Reckinger were the animators who spent months in a backroom drawing over the footage of Morten and actress Bunty Bailey.
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- They used a Moviola to project the film onto paper.
- They hand-drew about 3,000 frames.
- The "sketch" look wasn't just an filter—it was physical art.
This is why the video still looks better than most modern CGI. It has "soul." You can see the flickering of the lines, the slight imperfections that tell your brain a human made this. In an era where we are flooded with AI-generated visuals, the tactile nature of the take on me take me video feels more precious than ever.
Breaking Down the Chart Success
When it finally hit, it hit hard. It went to Number 1 in the US on the Billboard Hot 100. It hit Number 2 in the UK. It was a global phenomenon that turned three guys from Oslo into some of the biggest stars on the planet.
However, the fame was a double-edged sword. A-ha were often dismissed as a "teenybopper" band because of their looks, especially Morten's. This frustrated them. They were serious musicians who grew up on The Doors and Jimi Hendrix. They wanted to be seen as an alternative rock band, but the massive success of their most famous hook kept them locked in the "synth-pop" box for a long time.
Common Misconceptions About the Lyrics
People often argue about the "meaning." Is it about a literal comic book? No. The lyrics are actually quite dark if you look past the upbeat tempo. "I'll be gone in a day or two" suggests a fleeting moment, a fear of abandonment. It’s about the "odds and ends" of a relationship.
The repetition of take on me take me acts as a desperate anchor. It's the sound of someone trying to bridge a gap between two worlds—much like the characters in the video.
How to Experience the Song Today
If you want to truly appreciate the track, you have to look beyond the radio edits.
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- Listen to the 12-inch Extended Version: It gives the synth riffs more room to breathe and highlights the intricate percussion work.
- Watch the 4K Remaster: The video was recently remastered in 4K from the original film reels. The detail in the pencil sketches is breathtaking.
- Check out the "Hunting High and Low" Demos: You can hear the evolution from "The Juicy Fruit Song" to the final masterpiece. It’s an incredible lesson in songwriting.
Actionable Insights for Music Fans and Creators
If you're a musician or a fan of pop history, there are real lessons to be learned from the journey of this song.
Persistence is mandatory. "Take On Me" failed multiple times. If a-ha or their label had given up after the first release, we would have lost one of the greatest pop songs ever written.
Visuals are an extension of the art. The song is great, but the video made it a legend. If you're creating something today, think about how the visual "world" of your project can tell a story that the audio can't.
Embrace the "flaws." The slightly awkward phrasing and the unique Norwegian perspective gave the song a flavor that strictly American or British bands couldn't replicate. Lean into your unique background.
The legacy of take on me take me isn't just about nostalgia. It’s about the moment when technology, talent, and a bit of luck collided to create something that feels as fresh today as it did when those first pencil lines started moving on screen. It’s a reminder that great art usually requires a bit of struggle before it reaches the light.