MUSIC

“Running Up That Hill” By Kate Bush Inspired Our Bohemian Love Story

When music and art mirror reality in a captivating way

Have you ever been so deeply in love with someone you experience a longing to know every nuance of how they feel? To trade places with each other for a fleeting moment, to immerse yourself in their emotions and truly understand that love?

In the mid-80s, I found myself in a relationship that mirrored just that. So when the English songstress Kate Bush released “Running Up That Hill” in 1985, it was as if she had peered into our hearts and transformed our experience into a melody.

The track’s romantic theme and exquisitely choreographed video beautifully encapsulated our own enchanting love story.

We were two kooky 18-year-olds wrapped up in our own little world of youthful love and romance. Our hearts beat to the rhythm of that song, and the lyrics echoed the emotions we shared. It forged a powerful connection between us.

This is the story of how our romance became entangled with that song.

It doesn’t hurt me Do you wanna feel how it feels? Do you wanna know, know that it doesn’t hurt me? Do you wanna hear about the deal that I’m making?

You…it’s you and me

Intertwined souls and a reflection of love

Kate confirmed it in an interview with Richard Skinner on BBC Radio One in 1992. The song deals primarily with the struggle for empathy and understanding between two people in a romantic relationship. The opening lyrics suggest an attempt to switch places and better understand each other’s perspectives.

“I was trying to say that, really, a man and a woman, can’t understand each other because we are a man and a woman. And if we could actually swap each others roles, if we could actually be in each others place for a while, I think we’d both be very surprised! And I think it would lead to a greater understanding.” Kate Bush

We adored it and glimpsed our reflections in it. That song and the captivating video where Kate uses expressive dance movement with a single male dancer morphed into the living embodiment of our emotions — the perfect expression of our intertwined souls.

She had a strikingly similar look to Kate Bush; dark auburn hair and beautiful brown eyes. I would sit and sketch her on the end of the bed like a muse as we listened to our favorite music or I played my guitar.

We were very bohemian. Myself, the artist, and she, the academic. We loved French literature, art, music, and philosophy. Everything had profound meaning, and life was a whirlwind of intense passion.

The irony is I had not paid that much attention to Kate’s music before our relationship. I listened more to Bowie, David Sylvan, and other alternative bands then.

However, my girl was an avid fan, and through her, I also became intrigued with Kate’s unique and quirky sound and her mesmerizing performance art style. We would spend hours listening to her music, analyzing every nuance of it.

There were more synchronicities, too.

Kate Bush was from Welling in Kent, less than 30 minutes from where we lived. It was like having a big sister looking over us from the wilds of the Kent countryside, complete with old English charm and mythical witchery.

She was also discovered by none other than “Pink Floyd” legend and another creative influence of mine, David Gilmour. In Britain, we hold our artists close to our hearts like family. That sense of closeness within our artistic community on our small island makes her discovery all the more inspiring.

Making deals with God

The notion of making a deal with God to trade places is wonderfully romantic, and we fully embraced it. It resonated with the deep longing we had both experienced over the past year. The uncertainty of a future together didn’t bother us; we were lost in the moment.

And if I only could I’d make a deal with God And I’d get Him to swap our places Be runnin’ up that road Be runnin’ up that hill Be runnin’ up that building Say, if I only could, oh

The song's original title was “Deal with God,” as Kate later revealed in the same interview. However, she was advised to change the title due to concerns that it might face limited airplay in certain countries with the word “God” in it.

It was a bitter pill for her to swallow, considering the three years she had invested in making the album it belonged to, all in her own studio and at her personal expense.

Bohemian spirits in a traditional world

It was an enchanting and surreal time, except — my girl’s parents were quite traditional in their views. They couldn’t see her future with a long-haired, musical art student whose sole aspiration was to write the next song and paint.

Despite their disapproval, we continued our rebellious love affair, keeping our relationship fairly low-key in their eyes.

We were surrounded by a tight-knit group of friends, a mix of art students, musicians, and university students. The bohemian spirit was alive in those days. Meeting in pubs, watching local bands, and visiting art galleries in London.

The bittersweet of love and heartbreak

The second verse of the song expresses the sentiment of heartbreak and loss. The line ‘Running up that hill’ can be seen as a metaphor for the challenges and obstacles we face in life. It represents the desire to overcome difficulties and make significant changes in life or relationships.

You don’t wanna hurt me But see how deep the bullet lies Unaware I’m tearin’ you asunder Oh, there is thunder in our hearts Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Oh, tell me, we both matter, don’t we?

We didn’t want to hurt each other, but she was under increasing pressure to work at her father’s bank in London. I was still at Art college and playing in a band, mainly performing across the southern parts of England.

Our world echoed Kate’s lyrics and was being torn asunder by circumstances that seemed beyond our control. Our tight-knit group of friends was also breaking up as everyone scattered for jobs or university.

Sadly, the love affair did not make it past our twentieth birthdays. I was heartbroken. About six months after our break up, fate brought us together again at a party. We danced, but it was just too painful for both of us. There was a piece of us in each other that could never be reclaimed.

That night was the final chapter of our story. We haven’t crossed paths or stayed in touch since, and perhaps that’s how it should be.

I don’t dwell on regrets; I choose to cherish those beautiful memories. That love, though fleeting, holds a special place in my heart as a testament to the intensity and depth of human emotions. I don’t see it as a loss. I celebrate it as a poignant chapter in the book of my life. An experience that helped shape my understanding of romantic love.

As Tennyson so aptly wrote in his elegy In Memoriam:

’Tis better to have loved and lost. Than never to have loved at all.

I fully subscribe to Tennyson’s sentiment, and our love affair will forever be anchored in time to the haunting beauty of Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill.”

Oh, come on, baby Oh, come on, darlin’ Let me steal this moment from you now Oh, come on, angel Come on, come on, darlin’ Let’s exchange the experience

Stranger Things

Kate’s song got a new lease of life when featured on the popular Netflix show “Stranger Things,” where listening to your favorite track represents a way to escape evil — a metaphor for the escapism quality of music.

It propelled the song to number one in the music charts 37 years after its first release, making it the longest-ever track to reach number one. It transported me straight back to that time. It is a testament to the timeless quality of music.

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