Synths shimmer like rays of light refracted through a prism, and a single keystroke feels like a gateway to another world. That’s the sensation “Take On Me” by a-ha has given listeners since it first vaulted onto the global stage in 1985. It’s not merely a pop song—it’s an immersive portal to another dimension, crafted in equal parts from innovation, emotional sincerity, and musical perfection. A track that feels as futuristic now as it did when it debuted, it remains a hallmark of what pop can achieve when it is treated not as disposable sound, but as a vessel for melody, mystery, and magic. A-ha’s most iconic song is more than just its soaring falsetto hook or its unforgettable animated music video. It’s a masterclass in how to craft a moment of music that etches itself into the collective memory of generations.
The story of “Take On Me” is not just one of overnight success. Its journey was, in fact, a winding road marked by reinvention, determination, and visionary creativity. The song began life under a different name—first called “Lesson One”—and went through several iterations and recordings before it reached the version the world now knows. Norwegian trio a-ha, composed of Morten Harket, Magne Furuholmen, and Pål Waaktaar-Savoy, were meticulous in their approach. They believed deeply in the song’s potential, even when initial releases failed to chart. That belief paid off spectacularly when the final version was accompanied by a groundbreaking music video that would revolutionize both the band’s career and the possibilities of the medium.
What makes “Take On Me” so unique musically is its synthesis of elements that might, in lesser hands, have clashed. The track is at once airy and grounded, electronic yet deeply human, melancholic yet euphoric. The iconic synthesizer riff that opens the song is as indelible as any guitar line from the same era—brisk, pulsing, almost staccato, it commands attention immediately. Beneath it lies a driving rhythm that never feels rushed, propelling the song forward with a graceful urgency. The drums, whether programmed or played, mimic a heartbeat, keeping listeners emotionally anchored even as the melody lifts them off the ground. Then there’s Morten Harket’s voice—one of the most instantly recognizable instruments of the 1980s. He doesn’t just sing the lyrics; he caresses them, pushing his falsetto to daring heights during the chorus in a performance that feels vulnerable and triumphant all at once.
Lyrically, “Take On Me” is surprisingly wistful. At first glance, it seems simple—an expression of desire, a plea for connection, a confession wrapped in catchy phrasing. But under its pop sheen lies a certain fragility, a narrative of someone asking to be seen, to be understood, and to be taken seriously in a world that often moves too fast for sincerity. The titular phrase isn’t a command; it’s a request. “Take on me / Take me on / I’ll be gone / In a day or two.” That final line is heartbreaking in its quiet resignation, revealing the fleeting nature of human interaction and the ache of someone who might disappear if not held onto. It’s a reminder that even in the most upbeat pop tracks, there can exist a deep undercurrent of longing and existential reflection.
The genius of “Take On Me” wasn’t fully realized until its accompanying video dropped jaws around the world. Directed by Steve Barron, the music video became one of the most celebrated and influential in history, thanks to its blend of live-action and rotoscoped animation. In it, a woman reading a comic book is pulled into a sketchy, animated world by the hand of a motorcycle-racing hero—Harket himself. The narrative unfolds with thrilling drama and emotional beats, evoking fairy tale, science fiction, and romance in equal parts. The blend of fantasy and reality mirrored the dual nature of the song itself: grounded in emotion, yet striving for escape. It wasn’t just a video—it was an event, a transformation of what music could do visually, and a defining moment for MTV-era creativity.
Beyond its stunning visual presentation and technical mastery, what kept “Take On Me” in heavy rotation and in the hearts of millions wasn’t simply its cleverness, but its sincerity. A-ha wasn’t a gimmick band. They weren’t chasing trends—they were building something that felt personal and timeless. Their Scandinavian origin brought a fresh perspective to a pop world largely dominated by American and British acts. There’s a certain European melancholy running beneath the upbeat tempo, a stylistic coolness that gave the song emotional complexity and lasting resonance. It didn’t just capture attention; it invited listeners into a more tender, beautifully vulnerable space.
When it hit number one in the United States, it marked a cultural moment. Here was a song by a band from Norway—a relatively unlikely pop powerhouse—taking over global airwaves with a sound that was sleek, modern, and filled with heart. It wasn’t just a win for a-ha; it was a signal that the boundaries of mainstream pop were expanding. The song’s massive success opened doors for other international acts and proved that language and geography mattered less than melody and emotional truth.
Over the years, “Take On Me” has seen a remarkable second life in modern culture. It’s been covered, sampled, parodied, and remixed countless times. Its presence in movies, television shows, commercials, and internet culture has kept it fresh, beloved, and relevant. From humorous reinterpretations to poignant acoustic renditions—including a hauntingly sparse MTV Unplugged version performed by a-ha themselves decades later—the song has shown an ability to shape-shift without losing its soul. Each new take underscores the strength of its core: a beautifully written pop song with melody, mood, and meaning working in perfect harmony.
And yet, despite its omnipresence, it never feels overplayed. There’s something eternally youthful about “Take On Me.” It captures the innocence and intensity of young love, the thrill of possibility, and the fear of being overlooked. It’s the sound of hope wrapped in synths, of courage hiding in vulnerability. No matter how many times it plays, there’s still a sense of discovery in it—as if, each time, it’s asking, “Will you come with me into this world?” And most of us, without hesitation, still say yes.
A-ha may have released many other excellent songs—and they did, from “The Sun Always Shines on T.V.” to “Hunting High and Low”—but “Take On Me” remains the sun around which their catalog orbits. Rather than being a weight, it’s a crown. They’ve never seemed burdened by its success, but rather elevated by it, continuing to tour and perform the song with the same earnestness and energy that made it a hit. That kind of staying power doesn’t come from marketing or luck alone. It comes from creating something that connects on a deep, emotional level and never letting that connection fray.
Part of the song’s endurance also comes from its refusal to belong solely to one time period. It isn’t locked in the 1980s; it’s eternal in the way that only true pop masterpieces are. Its sounds may be rooted in the synth-pop aesthetic of that decade, but its heart is universal. As long as there are people reaching out, hoping to be seen, and wishing to be swept away by something beautiful, “Take On Me” will have a place. It plays just as well in a vintage record store as it does on the Spotify playlists of today’s youth. It transcends nostalgia by remaining emotionally immediate.
What “Take On Me” ultimately offers is a rare kind of joy—the kind that’s tinged with the awareness that nothing lasts forever. It’s a song that lifts you up, even as it reminds you of life’s impermanence. It’s danceable and singable, yes, but also deeply touching in ways that might only hit you on the hundredth listen, or perhaps when you hear it late at night in an unexpected moment. It’s music that has grown up with us, shifting from a youthful anthem into something wiser and more poignant, without ever losing its spark.
Joan Didion once wrote that we tell ourselves stories in order to live. “Take On Me” is a musical version of that philosophy. It gives us a story we want to believe in—a tale of love, bravery, and escape. It wraps us in melody and lets us dream. It asks us to reach, even when the world makes us feel small. And it delivers us, if only for three and a half minutes, to a place where hand-drawn heroes can pull us into adventure, where vulnerability is strength, and where a perfect chorus can still make everything feel possible. That’s not just the power of pop—that’s the power of this song. And no matter how many years pass, the echo of that voice calling “Take on me…” will always remind us how high music can soar when it’s made with vision, heart, and a touch of magic.
