Kate Bush probably didn't see it coming. In 1985, she released a song that was weird, synth-heavy, and deeply philosophical. Fast forward nearly forty years, and "Running Up That Hill" didn't just trend; it basically took over the entire cultural zeitgeist thanks to Stranger Things. But when you hear that haunting line, if I only could make a deal with God, you aren't just hearing a catchy pop hook. You’re hearing a desperate, visceral plea for empathy that has outlasted the decade of leg warmers and neon.
It’s about the impossible.
The song was originally titled "A Deal with God," but EMI, the record label, got cold feet. They were terrified that religious countries—think Italy, France, Ireland—would blacklist the track because the title sounded "blasphemous." Kate, being Kate, eventually compromised. She changed the title to "Running Up That Hill," though she kept "A Deal with God" in parentheses on the album version.
What the Song is Actually Saying
People get this wrong all the time. They think it’s about a literal prayer or a religious bargain to save a life. It isn't. Kate Bush has been on the record multiple times explaining that the song is about the fundamental disconnect between men and women. She once told a BBC interviewer that the song describes a man and a woman who love each other deeply but simply cannot understand one another because of their gendered perspectives.
The "deal" isn't for immortality. It’s for a trade.
She's saying that if she could just swap places with her partner, even for a moment, the misunderstanding would vanish. He would know what it feels like to be her; she would know what it feels like to be him. It's a song about the frustration of the human ego. We are trapped in these bodies, these perspectives, and no matter how much we love someone, we can never truly be them. The hill? That’s the uphill battle of trying to bridge that emotional gap.
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The Stranger Things Resurrection
Let’s talk about Max Mayfield. When the fourth season of Stranger Things dropped in 2022, the Duffer Brothers used the track as a literal lifeline. In the show, the song is what pulls Max back from the brink of death at the hands of Vecna. It worked so well because the lyrics mirrored her internal grief. She’s mourning her brother, Billy, and that line—if I only could make a deal with God—took on a new, darker meaning about survivor's guilt.
Suddenly, Gen Z was obsessed.
The song hit number one on the UK Singles Chart 37 years after its release. That broke a world record. It also reached the top five on the Billboard Hot 100 in the US. This wasn't just a "retro" moment; it was a total reclamation of a masterpiece. Spotify numbers went through the roof, and Kate Bush, who notoriously stays out of the limelight, actually started posting updates on her website because she was so shocked by the revival.
She's wealthy, sure. But she seemed genuinely moved that a song written in a home studio in the mid-80s could still make teenagers cry in their bedrooms in the 2020s.
Why It Sticks
Modern music often lacks this kind of density. We’re used to songs about "you left me" or "I’m at the club." Bush was writing about the metaphysical limitations of the human condition.
The production helps. That Fairlight CMI synthesizer—which was cutting-edge and insanely expensive back then—creates a thumping, tribal heartbeat. It feels urgent. It feels like someone actually running. You can hear the physical effort in the drum pattern.
Honestly, the phrase "deal with God" taps into a universal human desire. We’ve all been there. You’re in a hospital waiting room, or you’re watching a relationship crumble, and you find yourself bartering with the universe. "If you just let this happen, I’ll never complain again." Even for the non-religious, the idea of a cosmic trade-off is a default human setting.
The Misunderstandings of 1985
Religion was a bigger barrier back then. When the song first hit the airwaves, some radio programmers were genuinely confused. Was it a protest song? Was it occult?
Bush’s lyrics often leaned into the "weird." This is the same woman who wrote "Babooshka" and "Wuthering Heights." She wasn't trying to be a provocateur like Madonna; she was a storyteller. The struggle to get "A Deal with God" played on the radio without a title change shows just how much the industry tried to sanitize art. Ironically, by making the title "Running Up That Hill," they gave the song a more active, athletic imagery that probably helped its commercial appeal in the long run.
Influence on Other Artists
You can't talk about this song without looking at who it influenced. Without Kate Bush making deals with deities, we don't get Björk. We don't get Florence + The Machine. We don't get Lorde.
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The song has been covered by everyone. Placebo did a moody, slow-burn version that gained its own cult following. Meg Myers did a high-energy rock version that hit the charts a few years ago. Each cover emphasizes a different part of the lyric. Placebo’s version feels like a lonely late-night realization. Meg Myers’ version feels like a scream.
But nobody touches Kate’s original. There is a specific "whoop" she does in the background vocals that sounds like a bird of prey. It’s haunting.
Technical Brilliance and the Fairlight
For the gear nerds, this track is a masterclass. Most 80s pop was starting to sound very "plastic." This song feels earthy. That’s because Bush was one of the first artists to really master the Fairlight CMI. She wasn't just using presets; she was sampling sounds and manipulating them.
The drone you hear throughout the song isn't a guitar. It’s a multi-layered synth texture that creates a sense of dread and hope simultaneously. It’s a difficult balance to strike. Most songs are either happy or sad. This song is neither. It’s striving.
The Cultural Impact in 2026
Even now, a few years after the Stranger Things peak, the song remains a staple. It’s moved into the "untouchable" category of music, like "Bohemian Rhapsody" or "Dreams." It’s a shorthand for "intense emotional moment" in film and TV.
But beyond the sync licensing deals, the core message remains. We are still struggling to understand each other. In an era of digital silos and extreme polarization, the idea of swapping places with someone to finally "get" them is more relevant than ever.
It’s a plea for the end of conflict.
If I could be you, and you could be me, we wouldn't have anything to fight about. We would see the world through the same lens. We would see that we’re both just running up that same hill, tripping over the same rocks, and trying to get to the top before the sun goes down.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers and Creators
If you want to truly appreciate the depth of what Bush achieved with this track, there are a few things you can do to get closer to the source material.
- Listen to the "12-inch Mix": It’s over six minutes long and features an extended intro that builds the atmospheric tension much better than the radio edit. It highlights the Fairlight CMI work that defined the era.
- Watch the original music video: It’s not a standard performance video. Kate and dancer Michael Hervieu perform a contemporary dance routine. It’s physically demanding and visually represents the "struggle" mentioned in the lyrics through literal lifting and dragging.
- Check out the Hounds of Love album in full: This song is just the beginning. The second half of the album, a suite called "The Ninth Wave," is a conceptual journey about a person lost at sea. It provides the necessary context for her headspace at the time.
- Explore the "Before the Dawn" live version: In 2014, Kate Bush returned to the stage for a residency in London. The live version of "Running Up That Hill" from those shows is heavier, more percussive, and shows how her voice matured into a deeper, more resonant instrument.
The song isn't just a meme or a TV soundtrack moment. It’s a blueprint for how to write about complex human emotions without being cheesy. It’s proof that you can take a deeply personal, niche frustration—like not being able to communicate with your partner—and turn it into a universal anthem that resonates across generations. It’s about the desire to transcend the self. And that’s a deal most of us would still make today if we had the chance.