"Take On Me" is a trap. It really is. On the surface, it’s this bubbly, synth-pop masterpiece from 1985 that everyone knows within three notes. But for any musician thinking about recording an a-ha Take On Me cover, the reality is usually a wake-up call involving strained vocal cords and a lot of regret. Morten Harket’s original performance isn’t just good; it’s statistically terrifying. He hits a high E5 in full voice, and the song spans over two octaves. Most singers simply don't have that kind of real estate in their lungs.
The acoustic version that changed everything
For decades, the standard way to cover this track was to play it fast. People tried to match that driving LinnDrum beat. They tried to mimic the Roland Juno-60 synth riff. It usually sounded like a cheap wedding band. Then, in 2017, a-ha themselves decided to strip it down for their MTV Unplugged session.
That version was a revelation. It was slow. It was melancholic. It sounded less like a dance floor filler and more like a desperate plea for connection. Suddenly, the industry realized the song’s bones were actually quite dark. When Morten sang it softly at age 57, he proved the melody was robust enough to survive without the 80s gloss. This sparked a massive wave of new interest. Everyone from Weezer to indie artists on TikTok started looking at the song through a cinematic lens rather than a nostalgic one.
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Reel Big Fish and the ska-punk era
Back in the 90s, things were different. If you were going to do an a-ha Take On Me cover, you weren't looking for "emotional depth." You wanted energy. Reel Big Fish essentially claimed the song for the third-wave ska movement. Their 1998 version for the movie BASEketball became almost as famous as the original for a specific generation.
It worked because they leaned into the absurdity. They traded the synths for a frantic brass section. Aaron Barrett didn't try to out-sing Morten Harket; he shouted it with a punk-rock snarl that bypassed the need for a five-octave range. Honestly, it’s one of the few upbeat covers that doesn't feel like a parody. It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s fun. It actually respects the tempo of the original while changing the entire "vibe" of the track.
Why most metal covers fail the test
Metal bands love this song. They love the challenge. But most of them fall into a specific trap. They think that by adding heavy distortion and a double-kick drum, they’re making it "edgy." Northern Kings—a Finnish symphonic metal supergroup—gave it a shot, and while it’s technically impressive, it loses the vulnerability.
The problem is the chorus. If you growl the chorus, you lose the soaring quality that makes the song work. "Take On Me" relies on the lift. Without that lift, it’s just a repetitive chord progression. Vision Divine and many other power metal acts have tried to keep the high notes, but it often ends up sounding like a vocal exercise rather than a piece of music. You need the soul, not just the scales.
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The "Quiet Girl" trope and the modern indie scene
If you spend five minutes on YouTube, you’ll find a thousand versions of an a-ha Take On Me cover featuring a ukulele or a reverb-drenched piano. This became a trope after the Deadpool 2 soundtrack used the acoustic version to pull at everyone's heartstrings.
Some of these are great. Others? Kinda boring.
Kygo’s remix featuring a-ha is an interesting middle ground. It’s not exactly a cover, but it recontextualized the song for the EDM generation. It kept the tropical house vibes while preserving Morten’s vocals. But the real standout in recent years has been the version by Aqualung and Lucy Schwartz. It’s haunting. It strips away the "pop" entirely and leaves you with a skeleton. That’s the true test of a cover: can it exist in a different genre and still feel like it belongs?
The vocal mechanics: Why Morten Harket is a freak of nature
Let's talk about that high note. You know the one.
In the original 1985 recording, Harket hits that legendary high E5. To put that in perspective, most male tenors struggle to stay consistent above a C5. Harket wasn't just hitting it; he was sustaining it with incredible clarity. Most people who attempt an a-ha Take On Me cover have to transpose the key down. If they don't, they end up flipping into a weak falsetto that kills the momentum.
Interesting fact: the song actually failed twice. The first version, recorded in 1984, didn't have the "magic" production and the video hadn't been made yet. It flopped. It was only after Alan Tarney re-produced it and Steve Barron directed that iconic pencil-sketch video that it became a global phenomenon. The vocals were actually re-recorded to be more "urgent." That urgency is what’s missing from 90% of the covers out there today.
Weezer and the "Blue Album" nostalgia trap
When Weezer released The Teal Album in 2019, their a-ha Take On Me cover was the centerpiece. Rivers Cuomo did something very "Weezer"—he played it almost exactly like the original.
Some critics hated it. They called it karaoke. But fans loved it. Why? Because sometimes people don't want a "reimagining." They just want to hear a band they like playing a song they love. Cuomo’s voice actually fits the range surprisingly well, though he doesn't quite hit the same soaring heights as Harket. It was a safe choice, but it cemented the song’s status as the "Final Boss" of 80s covers.
The surprisingly deep lyrics people ignore
"Talking high, tell me all the things you're concerned with."
We usually ignore the lyrics because the beat is so infectious. But the song is actually about a guy who's terrified of rejection. He’s "shying away" and "stumbling all around." When you hear a slower a-ha Take On Me cover, these lyrics finally get a chance to breathe.
Hidden Citizens did a "trailer music" version of the song that emphasizes this. It’s epic and dark. It sounds like something that would play at the end of the world. It’s a far cry from the neon lights of 1985, but it works because the desperation in the lyrics supports that kind of drama. It’s not just a song about a guy in a comic book; it’s a song about the fear of being forgotten.
Tips for performing your own version
If you’re a musician looking to tackle this beast, don't just copy the synth. You’ll lose. Here is how to actually approach it:
- Pick your key carefully. Don't be a hero. If you can't hit the E5, drop the song by a third. It’s better to sound strong in a lower key than thin and screechy in the original.
- Decide on the "mood" before you start. Are you going for the 1985 energy or the 2017 sadness? Mixing them usually results in a mess.
- Focus on the bassline. Most people focus on the riff, but the bassline is what actually drives the song. If your bass player isn't locked in, the whole thing will feel empty.
- Watch the phrasing. Morten Harket uses a lot of "staccato" in the verses and "legato" in the chorus. Mimicking that contrast is the secret to making the cover feel authentic.
What to listen to next
To truly understand the evolution of the a-ha Take On Me cover, you need to hear the progression. Start with the "Lesson One" demo from 1982 to see where it started. Then, listen to the 1985 album version. Follow that with the MTV Unplugged version from Summer Solstice. Finally, check out the Reel Big Fish version and the Aqualung version.
Seeing how one melody can be stretched across ska, indie-folk, and synth-pop will give you a much deeper appreciation for why this song refused to stay in the 80s. It’s a masterclass in songwriting. Most pop songs are disposable; this one is structural. It’s built like a skyscraper, and no matter how many times people try to renovate it, the foundation remains unshakable.
Go back and watch the original music video too. Even with all the modern AI and CGI we have today, that rotoscoped animation still feels more "real" than half the stuff on Netflix. There’s a reason we’re still talking about this forty years later. It’s just that good.