You know the riff. That jangling, sun-drenched guitar line that feels like a crisp breeze on a Liverpool afternoon. It’s the kind of melody that gets stuck in your head for three days straight, and honestly, you don't even mind. There She Goes by The La’s is one of those rare tracks that transcends its era. Released originally in 1988 and then again in 1990, it’s a masterclass in pop brevity. It’s barely two and a half minutes long. It doesn't have a bridge. It barely has a chorus. It just... exists, perfectly.
But there’s a weird tension beneath those bright chords. For decades, fans and critics have argued over what Lee Mavers was actually singing about. Is it a love song? Is it a tribute to a fleeting moment of beauty? Or is it, as many urban legends suggest, a thinly veiled ode to heroin?
The truth is a bit more complicated than a simple "yes" or "no."
The Myth of the "Heroin Song"
If you search for the meaning behind the There She Goes song, the drug theory is usually the first thing that pops up. People point to specific lyrics as "evidence." Phrases like "racing through my brain" or "pulsing through my vein" are often cited as dead giveaways. It makes sense on paper. The late 80s Liverpool music scene wasn't exactly a stranger to substances, and the band’s frontman, Lee Mavers, has always been an enigmatic, somewhat troubled figure.
John Power, the band’s bassist who later went on to form Cast, has been asked about this roughly a million times. In various interviews, including a notable one with The Guardian, the band has been somewhat coy. Some members have hinted that the drug interpretation isn't entirely off-base, while others suggest it’s just a song about a girl.
Kinda makes you wonder if it’s both.
Good art usually is. The song captures a feeling of obsession. Whether that obsession is a person walking down the street or a chemical hitting your bloodstream, the emotional resonance remains the same. It’s that "there she goes again" feeling—the return of a sensation you can't quite grasp but can't live without. Mavers was a perfectionist. He famously hated the studio version of the album because he thought the "dust" in the air at the studio wasn't right. That level of obsession translates into the music.
Why the Six-String Jangle Still Works
Technically, the song is a fluke. It’s a 60s throwback released during the height of Madchester and the tail end of synth-pop. While everyone else was using drum machines and heavy reverb, The La’s were looking back to The Beatles and The Byrds.
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- The Tuning: It’s not just standard pop. There’s a specific "ring" to the chords that comes from Mavers’ insistence on vintage equipment.
- The Structure: Most pop songs follow a Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus pattern. This track doesn't. It’s essentially one long, evolving hook.
- The Vocals: Mavers’ voice has this strained, yearning quality. It’s not "pretty" in a conventional sense, but it’s incredibly honest.
The Sixpence None the Richer Effect
For a huge chunk of the population, the There She Goes song isn't a Britpop anthem at all. It’s a 90s radio staple by Sixpence None the Richer. Their 1999 cover changed the context entirely. Suddenly, the song was in Gilmore Girls. It was on the Parent Trap soundtrack. It became the soundtrack to every "girl-in-a-sundress" montage in cinematic history.
Leigh Nash’s vocals are airy and sweet. The grit of the original is polished away, replaced by a whimsical, innocent vibe. This is where the "drug song" theory gets really funny. You had Christian-leaning pop groups singing lyrics about "pulsing through my veins" to audiences of teenagers. It’s a classic example of how a melody can completely camouflage the lyrics.
If you ask a Gen X-er, they'll tell you about the grime of the original. Ask a Millennial, and they’ll think of Joey Potter walking down a pier in Dawson's Creek. Both versions are technically "correct," but they live in entirely different universes.
The Perfectionism of Lee Mavers
We have to talk about Lee Mavers. You can't understand the song without understanding the man’s descent into obsession. The La’s self-titled album—the only one they ever released—took years to record. They went through a dozen producers. Steve Lillywhite, the man who eventually finished it, basically had to cobble together takes because Mavers refused to give a "final" nod.
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Mavers famously claimed the vintage mixing desk they used didn't have the right "original 60s dust" on it. He wanted a specific sound that arguably only existed in his head.
Because of this, the version of the There She Goes song we hear today is one Mavers allegedly hates. He disowned the album. He retreated from the spotlight, becoming one of rock's greatest "what if" stories. There’s something poetic about that. The man who wrote a song about a fleeting, recurring vision ended up becoming a fleeting vision himself.
Impact on Britpop and Beyond
Without The La’s, you probably don't get Oasis. Noel Gallagher has gone on record saying that The La’s were the first band that truly mattered to him in the late 80s. They proved that you could play basic, guitar-driven music and still sound revolutionary.
- Oasis: Took the "jangle" and added the "swagger."
- The Bluetones: Basically built a career on the foundations Mavers laid.
- The Stone Roses: While they were more psychedelic, the melodic simplicity of "There She Goes" paved the way for "She Bangs the Drums."
It’s a bridge between the 60s and the 90s. It stripped away the over-produced gloss of the 1980s and reminded everyone that three chords and a decent melody are enough to change the world. Or at least, enough to change the radio.
Misconceptions and Cultural Footprint
One of the biggest misconceptions is that the song was an instant, massive hit. It actually flopped the first time around. It took a re-release in 1990 to crack the Top 20 in the UK and the Billboard Hot 100 in the States.
Also, despite its upbeat tempo, the lyrics are actually quite repetitive and almost haunting. If you listen to it on a loop—which is easy to do—it starts to feel less like a sunny pop song and more like a fever dream. "There she goes... there she goes again... there she goes." It’s cyclical. It’s a loop. It never truly resolves, which is perhaps why it feels so timeless. It doesn't belong to a specific year because it never follows the rules of its time.
How to Truly Appreciate the Song Today
If you want to get the full experience of the There She Goes song, don't just stream the radio edit. Look for the "Mike Hedges" version or the various demos floating around. You can hear the raw, acoustic bones of the track before the studio polish was applied.
- Listen for the Bassline: John Power is a phenomenal bassist. The way the bass counter-melodies work against the guitar is what gives the song its "drive."
- Read the Lyrics Without Music: Notice how sparse they are. There are fewer than 50 unique words in the entire song. That is incredibly hard to pull off without sounding repetitive or boring.
- Compare the Covers: Listen to the original by The La's, then Sixpence None the Richer, then The Boo Radleys. Each one treats the "She" in the song differently.
The song is a Rorschach test. To some, it’s a drug anthem. To others, it’s about a lost love. To others, it’s just 162 seconds of perfect pop. Honestly? It doesn't matter what Mavers meant when he wrote it in a flat in Liverpool decades ago. What matters is that it still feels like it was written yesterday.
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To dive deeper into the history of the 80s Liverpool scene, check out the archives at the British Music Experience or read "A Call to Arms: The Story of The La's" by MW Macefield. Understanding the context of the city at the time—the unemployment, the crumbling infrastructure, and the escapism of the music—adds a layer of grit to those "sunny" chords that makes the song even more impressive.
Next time it comes on the radio, turn it up and listen for the "dust." It might not be the 60s dust Mavers wanted, but it's pretty close to perfect.