You know that feeling when you're at a party, laughing at every joke and holding a drink, but your chest actually feels like it’s being crushed by a hydraulic press? That is exactly what Buck Ram was tapping into when he scribbled down the lyrics to The Great Pretender.
It’s a song about the masks we wear. Honestly, it’s probably the most honest song ever written about lying to yourself. Most people think of it as a simple doo-wop relic from the fifties, something to snap your fingers to while wearing a poodle skirt. But if you actually listen to the words—I mean really listen—it’s devastating.
The Bathroom Stall Origin Story
Buck Ram was a powerhouse. He managed The Platters, but he was also a songwriter who knew how to bridge the gap between R&B and the pop charts. The story goes that he came up with the title in a Flamingo Hotel washroom in Las Vegas. He told someone he had a great new song title, and when they asked what it was, he just blurted out, "The Great Pretender."
The catch? He hadn't actually written a single note of it yet. He had to go back and prove he wasn't, well, a pretender himself.
He wrote it fast. That’s often how the best ones happen. He captured this specific kind of masculine vulnerability that wasn't exactly common in 1955. It wasn't just "I miss you." It was "I am pretending to be okay so I don't look like a loser, but I'm actually dying inside."
Tony Williams, the lead singer of The Platters, delivered the vocal performance of a lifetime. His voice has this operatic quality, a richness that makes the pain feel expensive. When he hits those high notes, you can hear the mask slipping. It’s no wonder the song hit number one on both the R&B and the Top 100 charts. It was a massive crossover success at a time when the music industry was still deeply segregated.
Freddie Mercury and the Art of the Mask
Fast forward to 1987. Freddie Mercury, the flamboyant frontman of Queen, decides to cover it. On the surface, it seems like a weird choice. Why would a rock god cover a thirty-year-old doo-wop track?
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But for Freddie, The Great Pretender was an autobiography.
By the late eighties, Freddie was the ultimate showman. He commanded stadiums. He wore crowns and capes. But behind the scenes, he was a deeply private, often shy man who was grappling with a terrifying health crisis. He famously said in an interview that the song was very fitting for the way his career was going. He felt like he was "pretending" to be this giant stage persona while the real Freddie stayed hidden.
His version replaced the backing harmonies of the fifties with thick, multi-layered "Mercury-style" vocals. It’s more synth-heavy, very eighties, and deeply campy—but the sadness is even more pronounced. The music video is legendary. It features Freddie parodying his own past videos, like "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "I Want to Break Free," essentially admitting that his whole public image was a performance.
It's a meta-commentary on fame. He’s telling us he’s faking it while he’s literally in the middle of faking it.
Why the Song Actually Works (The Nerd Stuff)
Musically, the song is a bit of a trick. It uses a standard AABA pop structure, which feels familiar and safe to the ear. But the melody has these huge leaps.
Think about the way the word "pretending" is sung. It starts low and then jumps up. It mimics the physical sensation of trying to keep your head above water. The chord progression is classic, but that triplet rhythm—da-da-da, da-da-da—gives it a heartbeat. It’s a pulse.
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- The Lyrics: "My need is such, I pretend too much." That’s a heavy line. It’s admitting to a lack of self-control.
- The Irony: You’re singing along to a catchy tune about being a total fraud.
- The Longevity: It’s been covered by everyone. Dolly Parton did a version. The Band did a version. Even Gene Pitney.
The song works because it’s universal. Everyone has had that moment where they’ve had to smile through a breakup or act like they aren't failing at work. We are all, at some point, great pretenders.
The Cultural Impact and Misconceptions
One thing people get wrong is thinking the song is just about a breakup. While the lyrics mention "Adrift in a world of my own," it’s more about the loss of identity than just the loss of a girlfriend or boyfriend. It’s an existential crisis set to a slow-dance beat.
In 1955, The Platters were breaking barriers. They were one of the first African American groups to be accepted as a "standard" pop act, appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show and in movies like Rock Around the Clock. The Great Pretender was the vehicle that got them there. It proved that a soulful, R&B-inflected ballad could dominate the white-dominated airwaves.
The song also helped define the "Platters sound"—that combination of Tony Williams' soaring tenor and the intricate, almost orchestral vocal backing from Zola Taylor, David Lynch, Paul Robi, and Herb Reed.
How to Listen to It Today
If you want to really appreciate The Great Pretender, don't just put it on as background noise while you’re cleaning the kitchen. Try this:
Listen to The Platters' original version first. Notice the reverb. It sounds like it was recorded in a giant, empty hall, which adds to the feeling of loneliness. Pay attention to the way Tony Williams rolls his 'R's and the precision of the backing vocals. It’s disciplined pain.
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Then, immediately switch to Freddie Mercury’s 1987 version. The vibe shifts from 1950s melancholy to 1980s theatricality. It’s the difference between a black-and-white noir film and a bright, neon stage play. Both are valid. Both are heartbreaking.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers
If you're looking to dive deeper into this era or this specific style of songwriting, here are a few things you can actually do:
Check out the rest of the Buck Ram catalog. The man was a genius at "The Lonely Man" trope. Listen to "Only You (And You Alone)" by The Platters. It’s the spiritual sibling to this song and features many of the same vocal hallmarks.
Compare the vocal techniques. If you're a singer or just a fan of technique, listen to the "break" in Tony Williams' voice. It’s a deliberate stylistic choice used to convey emotion—something later adopted by soul singers like Otis Redding.
Explore the 1950s R&B crossover era. Look into acts like The Drifters or The Coasters. You’ll see how The Great Pretender wasn't just a one-off hit; it was part of a movement that changed the DNA of American music forever.
Watch the Freddie Mercury music video. It’s available on most streaming platforms. Look for the "making of" clips where he talks about the costumes. It adds a whole new layer of meaning to the lyrics when you see him literally putting on masks.
The song stays relevant because the human condition doesn't change. We still hide. We still pretend. We still hope nobody notices the "laughing and gay" exterior is just a shell. As long as people have secrets, this song will have a home on the charts of our hearts.
Next Steps:
Go to your favorite streaming service and create a "Masks of Pop" playlist. Start with The Platters, move to Freddie Mercury, and then add songs like "Tears of a Clown" by Smokey Robinson or "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who. You'll start to see a thread of "The Great Pretender" running through the last seventy years of music history.