It happened in 1985. Then it happened again in 2022. Kate Bush, an artist who famously values her privacy more than almost any other living legend, suddenly found herself at the center of a global whirlwind because of a song most people just call the deal with god song.
You know the one. That driving, tribal drum beat. The Fairlight CMI synth swells that sound like they're breathing. The lyrics about swapping places with someone you love just to understand them better. It’s haunting. It’s weird. It’s perfect.
Most people first heard "Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)" because of Stranger Things. Max Mayfield, played by Sadie Sink, used the track as a literal lifeline to escape the clutches of Vecna. But for those who grew up with the original release on the Hounds of Love album, the song was already a masterpiece of avant-garde pop. It’s one of those rare tracks that doesn’t age. It sounds like it could have been recorded yesterday, or maybe fifty years from now in a studio on Mars.
What Kate Bush Was Actually Trying to Say
There’s a massive misconception about this track. People hear "deal with God" and assume it's a religious anthem or a prayer for help. Honestly? It's much more grounded than that. It’s about the fundamental inability of men and women to truly understand one another.
Kate Bush explained this back in the mid-80s during an interview with Richard Skinner. She felt that if a man and a woman could literally swap lives—inhabit each other's bodies and perspectives—all the misunderstandings and "little sighs" that ruin relationships would vanish. The "deal" wasn't with a deity for salvation; it was a desperate, impossible bargain to achieve total empathy.
She originally wanted to call the song "A Deal with God." Her label, EMI, panicked. They were terrified that religious countries like Italy, France, or even parts of the US would boycott the record or refuse to play it on the radio. They forced the "Running Up That Hill" title to the front. Kate hated it, but she was a savvy enough businesswoman to know that if the song didn't get played, the message wouldn't get heard. She compromised.
The Tech Behind the Magic
If you listen closely to the percussion, it doesn't sound like a standard 80s drum machine. That's because it’s the LinnDrum, but layered with Kate’s own peculiar sensibilities. She was one of the first major artists to master the Fairlight CMI (Computer Musical Instrument). This was a massive, expensive workstation—basically a computer with a light pen—that allowed her to sample real-world sounds and turn them into playable notes.
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The "cello" sounds in the background? Those aren't real cellos. They’re digital samples manipulated to sound slightly "off," which gives the song its uncanny, ethereal energy. It’s a masterclass in using technology to enhance human emotion rather than replace it.
The 2022 Resurgence and the "Stranger Things" Effect
When Season 4 of Stranger Things dropped, the deal with god song didn't just trend. It shattered records. It hit Number 1 on the UK Singles Chart 37 years after its release. That broke the record for the longest time a single has ever taken to reach the top spot.
Kate Bush, who rarely grants interviews or licenses her music, said yes to the Duffer Brothers because she was already a fan of the show. She understood that the song wasn't just being used as background noise; it was a narrative engine. It represented Max's grief, her isolation, and her fight to stay tethered to the world.
- It reached over 1 billion streams on Spotify.
- It introduced a Gen Z audience to 80s art-pop.
- It proved that "old" music isn't dead; it's just waiting for a new context.
The irony is thick here. A song about the difficulty of communication became the ultimate tool for a new generation to communicate their own feelings of anxiety and hope.
Why the Lyrics Still Hit So Hard
"It doesn't hurt me. Do you want to feel how it feels?"
Those opening lines are an invitation. But they're also a challenge. Kate's vocal delivery is breathy, urgent, and slightly strained. She isn't singing at you; she's singing from a place of intense longing.
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There's a specific line that often gets misquoted: "And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God." People often sing it as "I'd get him to swap our places." But the original intent—the "deal"—is about the frustration of the human condition. We are trapped in our own heads. We can never truly know what it’s like to be our partner, our friend, or our enemy.
The song suggests that only a divine intervention could fix the rift between genders. It’s a cynical thought wrapped in a beautiful melody.
The Music Video's Hidden Meaning
The video features Kate and dancer Michael Hervieu performing a contemporary dance piece. It’s all very "interpretive dance," which was her trademark. They wear matching grey outfits. They move in sync, then apart.
This wasn't just for aesthetics. At a time when MTV was obsessed with flashy lights and big hair, Kate Bush gave them a performance that looked like a moving painting. She wanted to emphasize the physical struggle of the lyrics. The "running" isn't just a metaphor; it's an exhausting, physical act of trying to reach someone who is right next to you but feels miles away.
A Legacy Beyond the Charts
You can hear the influence of the deal with god song in almost every modern "alt-pop" artist. Without Kate Bush, do we get Lorde? Do we get Florence + The Machine? Probably not.
Lorde’s "Royals" shares that same DNA of minimal production and heavy vocal layering. Florence Welch has openly cited Bush as a primary influence, particularly in how she blends the theatrical with the personal. The song created a blueprint for how to be weird, intellectual, and popular all at once.
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Even the covers of the song tell a story. Placebo recorded a dark, brooding version in 2003 that stripped away the synth-pop and replaced it with grinding guitars and Brian Molko’s nasal, pained vocals. It turned the song from a plea for empathy into a cry of existential dread. Meg Myers did a version in 2019 that leaned into the raw, screaming frustration of the chorus.
Every time someone covers it, they find a new "deal" to make.
How to Truly Appreciate Kate Bush’s Work
If you’ve only ever heard the radio edit or the 30-second TikTok clip, you’re missing the architecture of the track.
- Listen with Headphones: The stereo field in Hounds of Love is insane. Sounds move from left to right behind your head.
- Context Matters: Listen to the entire "Hounds of Love" side of the record first, then "The Ninth Wave" (the second half of the album). "Running Up That Hill" is the gateway drug to a much deeper, much stranger concept album about being lost at sea.
- Watch the Live Performances: Specifically the "Before the Dawn" residency from 2014. Even decades later, the power of that song to move a room is undeniable.
The deal with god song is more than just a 1980s relic or a TV show plot point. It’s a testament to the power of a single, brilliant idea: that the hardest thing in the world isn't climbing a mountain or winning a war. It's simply understanding the person standing right in front of you.
To get the most out of this musical history, look into the production notes of the Hounds of Love sessions. You'll find a woman who spent months alone in a barn-turned-studio, obsessed with every single "thwack" of a drum and every breathy harmony. That level of obsession is why we're still talking about it forty years later. Go listen to the original 12-inch extended version if you want to hear the song really breathe; the extra two minutes of instrumental buildup makes the final chorus feel like a genuine breakthrough.