It is 1987. You are wearing way too much hairspray. You're probably wearing a blazer with shoulder pads that could double as landing gear. Then, that synthesizer intro kicks in—it sounds like sheer, unadulterated hope—and suddenly Grace Slick and Mickey Thomas are telling you that you can build a city out of nothing. Honestly, if you grew up in the eighties, Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now isn't just a song. It is a time machine.
But here is the thing people forget: by the time this track hit the top of the Billboard Hot 100, Starship was a band that had essentially reinvented itself three times over. They were the survivors of the psychedelic sixties and the arena rock seventies. This wasn't some bubblegum pop group manufactured in a lab. These were grizzled rock veterans who somehow stumbled into the brightest, shiniest anthem of the decade.
The Mannequin Connection and the Power Ballad Blueprint
You can’t talk about this song without talking about the movie Mannequin. It’s a cult classic now, mostly because it's wonderfully absurd—Kim Cattrall is an Egyptian princess reincarnated as a plastic mannequin in a department store. It sounds like a fever dream, but it worked. The song was the heartbeat of the film. When Albert Hammond and Diane Warren sat down to write it, they weren't trying to change the world. They were trying to capture a very specific feeling of "us against the world."
Hammond actually pulled the inspiration from his own life. He had been through a messy divorce and was finally marrying the woman he’d been with for seven years. He told her, "They’ve been trying to stop us for years, but they haven't been able to do it." That’s the real-world grit behind the lyrics. It’s not just fluff.
Diane Warren, who is basically the queen of the power ballad, brought that melodic precision that makes the chorus explode. Think about it. Most songs build up and then plateau. Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now just keeps climbing. It’s relentless. That’s why it works at weddings, graduations, and even at 2:00 AM in a karaoke bar when everyone is three drinks deep.
Grace Slick and the Paradox of 1980s Starship
There is a weird irony here that music nerds love to point out. Grace Slick, the woman who sang "White Rabbit" and was the face of the counterculture revolution with Jefferson Airplane, was now singing a polished, radio-friendly pop song. Some critics at the time hated it. They called it "corporate rock." They thought she had sold out.
But if you listen to her performance, she’s not phoning it in. Her voice has this incredible rasp and authority. When she and Mickey Thomas trade lines, there’s a genuine chemistry there. Mickey’s high notes are legendary—the man had a range that made other singers sweat—but Grace provided the earthiness.
It was a huge milestone, too. At the time, Grace Slick became the oldest woman to have a number-one single in the United States. She was 47. In an industry that usually throws women away the second they turn 30, that was a massive "get lost" to the status quo. It proved that the song’s title applied to the singer’s career as much as the fictional couple in the movie.
👉 See also: The Entire History of You: What Most People Get Wrong About the Grain
Why the Production Still Holds Up (Mostly)
Let's be real: 1987 production can sometimes feel like a tin can.
Narada Michael Walden produced this track, and he was the mid-80s "it" guy. He had just come off working with Whitney Houston. He knew how to make a record sound expensive. While the drums are definitely "big" in that gated-reverb way that defined the era, the layering is sophisticated.
There are about five different synth parts weaving together. There’s a hidden rhythm guitar that gives it more drive than a standard pop ballad. If you strip away the 80s gloss, the skeleton of the song is a perfect folk-rock structure. That’s why you see modern indie bands cover it today. You can play it on an acoustic guitar, and it still feels epic.
A Quick Reality Check on the Charts
- Release Date: January 1987.
- Peak Position: Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 (it stayed there for two weeks).
- Global Impact: It hit Number 1 in the UK, Canada, and Ireland.
- Awards: Nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Song (it lost to "The Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing, which, okay, fair enough).
The "Everything’s Possible" Aesthetic
We live in a pretty cynical time. Music today is often moody, introspective, or slightly detached. Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now is the polar opposite. It is aggressively optimistic. It’s a song that looks you in the eye and tells you that if you just hold on, everything is going to be fine.
Maybe that’s why it’s stayed in the cultural consciousness. It’s been in The Skeleton Twins, it’s been in commercials, and it’s a staple on every "feel good" Spotify playlist. It captures a moment of pure, unbridled confidence.
Interestingly, Mickey Thomas has mentioned in interviews that he still gets people coming up to him saying the song helped them through surgeries, long-distance relationships, or career changes. It’s become a literal anthem for resilience. It’s hard to stay in a bad mood when that final chorus kicks in and the key change hits.
The Controversy: Was it the End of Rock?
There’s a segment of rock historians who point to Starship as the moment "real" rock died. They argue that the transition from Jefferson Airplane (psychedelic) to Jefferson Starship (arena rock) to Starship (pure pop) was a downward slide.
✨ Don't miss: Shamea Morton and the Real Housewives of Atlanta: What Really Happened to Her Peach
That’s a narrow way of looking at it.
Music evolves. If Grace Slick had tried to record "Volunteers" in 1987, nobody would have listened. By embracing the sounds of the time—the LinnDrum, the digital synths, the big music video production—Starship stayed relevant. They didn't just survive the eighties; they owned them for a minute.
Also, can we talk about the music video? It’s peak 80s. Mickey Thomas playing a security guard, Kim Cattrall appearing in a department store window... it’s silly, yes. But it’s also joyful. It wasn't trying to be high art. It was trying to be a four-minute escape.
Technical Nuance: That Key Change
If you want to know why the song feels like it’s lifting off, look at the bridge. It transitions from a steady mid-tempo groove into a soaring final act. The modulation is classic Diane Warren. It forces the vocalists to push their limits.
Most people don't notice the technicality because they’re too busy singing along, but the arrangement is actually quite complex. It manages to balance a heavy bassline with light, airy synth flourishes. It’s a masterclass in pop engineering.
Making the Most of the Nostalgia
If you're revisiting this track or introducing it to someone who only knows it from a meme, there are a few things to keep in mind.
First, listen to the 12-inch extended version if you can find it. It gives the instrumental parts more room to breathe and shows off Narada Michael Walden’s production chops.
🔗 Read more: Who is Really in the Enola Holmes 2 Cast? A Look at the Faces Behind the Mystery
Second, watch the Mannequin movie. Seriously. It provides the visual context that makes the lyrics make sense. The song was literally written to be the "them against the world" theme for a guy falling in love with a statue. Once you know that, the line "And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other" feels a lot more literal.
Third, look into the songwriting credits. Albert Hammond is the father of Albert Hammond Jr. from The Strokes. It’s a weird bit of trivia that connects 80s power pop to the early 2000s New York indie scene. Music is a smaller world than we think.
Actionable Takeaways for the Modern Listener
Don't just let the song be background noise. Use it.
- The Workout Hack: Put this on your running playlist. The BPM (beats per minute) is almost perfect for a steady jogging pace, and the crescendo in the final third is a natural motivator.
- The Mood Shift: If you're feeling stuck in a rut, play this at full volume. It’s scientifically designed (well, commercially designed) to trigger a dopamine release through its major key resolution.
- The Vocal Challenge: If you’re a singer, try to map out the harmonies in the final chorus. It’s way harder than it sounds.
Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now isn't just a relic of the Reagan era. It’s a reminder that sometimes, being unashamedly positive is the most radical thing you can do. It’s big, it’s loud, it’s slightly cheesy, and it’s absolutely perfect for what it is.
Take a moment to appreciate the craft that went into it. Beneath the sequins and the big hair, there’s a rock-solid piece of songwriting that has outlasted almost everything else from 1987. Whether you love it or think it's the ultimate "guilty pleasure," you can't deny its staying power. It’s been decades, and honestly, nothing has stopped it yet.
Next Steps to Deepen Your 80s Music Knowledge:
Check out the original demos of Diane Warren’s hits to see how a song evolves from a piano ballad to a stadium anthem. You might also want to explore the transition of Jefferson Airplane to Starship through the documentary Fly Jefferson Airplane for a look at how the band’s internal dynamics changed over twenty years. Finally, compare the production style of Narada Michael Walden on this track to his work on Whitney Houston’s How Will I Know—you’ll start to hear the "Walden Sound" that defined the decade's radio.