“Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)” is not only the towering opener of Hounds of Love - Kate Bush’s 1985 magnum opus - but also the song that redefined her as an artist of both emotional depth and electronic innovation. A breakthrough in every sense, it stands as one of the most potent and enduring pop singles of the 20th century, and perhaps the clearest crystallization of Bush’s ability to fuse the cerebral with the visceral.
From the opening moments, the song announces a dramatic shift in sound. Gone is the piano-forward folk baroque of her earlier work; in its place is a bold, churning synth beat paired with driving drums and a swirling, metallic atmosphere. The Fairlight CMI, a digital sampling synthesizer Bush had already experimented with, takes center stage - its looping textures creating a relentless, ascending sense of motion that perfectly mirrors the song’s central metaphor: the emotional and existential effort of trying to bridge the gap between two people.
Lyrically, “Running Up That Hill” is astonishingly direct for Bush. It expresses the raw desire to understand a lover completely, to erase the barriers of gender, perspective, and emotional translation. “And if I only could / I’d make a deal with God / And I’d get him to swap our places” - it’s a line that’s both fantastical and devastatingly human. Bush imagines an impossible trade, a metaphysical bargain with divinity, to solve the most ordinary but aching dilemma: how to truly know and be known by another person.
Bush’s vocal performance is commanding and emotionally layered. She doesn’t weep or wail - her delivery is measured, controlled, but brimming with intensity. She sings like someone fighting not to fall apart, and that restraint makes the emotions hit even harder. It’s a plea, a confrontation, a prayer - all at once.
That blend of emotional urgency and sonic sophistication made the song unlike anything else on the radio in 1985. It reached No. 3 on the UK Singles Chart and, decades later, experienced a massive resurgence thanks to its prominent placement in Stranger Things - introducing Bush to a whole new generation. Its modern rediscovery proves that its themes - empathy, frustration, longing - are timeless.
What makes “Running Up That Hill” so enduring is not just its unforgettable melody or its lyrical ambition. It’s the way Bush makes something deeply private feel monumental. The song pulses with life, pain, hope, and humanity. It’s a cry across a chasm, wrapped in a sonic spell.
In a career full of high points, “Running Up That Hill” remains Kate Bush’s emotional and creative summit - a transcendent pop song that changed everything and still hasn’t aged a day.