Understanding Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

the year was 1975, and Annie Lennox was about to meet someone who would change her life forever. a student at the Royal Academy of Music, Lennox found herself frustrated by the grueling practice regimen and the emphasis on stiff, classical traditions. she wanted to make music, but the music she loved was the soul music of Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder, music that was happening now. or, y'know, then. point is, she wanted to get out. all she needed was a reason to leave. and that's when a friend introduced her to Dave Stewart. a guitarist for the folk rock band Longdancer, Stewart immediately saw something in Lennox, an artistry and skill she knew she had but hadn't yet been able to embrace. enamored with each other both as artists and as people, the two immediately moved in together and began dating. soon after, with Stewart's encouragement, she dropped out of the Royal Academy to form a band with him and his friend Peet Coombes. that band was the Tourists. not Eurythmics, we'll get there. they all agreed that Coombes should be the bandleader, and for a while, things were great. they built a loyal fanbase, recruited new members, had some hit songs, and all the while Stewart and Lennox's relationship grew deeper and stronger. they were always together, side by side. but for the Tourists, cracks were beginning to show. Lennox had left the Academy to play the music she wanted to play, and this still wasn't it. and she wasn't the only one burning out: the pressures of fame and touring exacerbated Coombes's drug habit, and after an overdose in Australia, it became clear that he couldn't go on. the Tourists were officially dissolved, and after coming to terms with the consequences of that whirlwind experience, so was Stewart and Lennox's relationship. but despite the break-up, they remained close. their artistic connection was too important to throw away, even if they couldn't be together romantically, and from those ashes rose Eurythmics. Stewart started experimenting with synths, and the two quickly found common ground in their desire to reject the pop aesthetics that had guided their work in the Tourists. that experimentation eventually produced an album, In The Garden, but the label had no idea what to do with their dark, mechanical sound, and with no promotion, the album flopped hard. Lennox was crushed, but Stewart, who had just gone through his own brush with death, was motivated enough for both of them. he was convinced that what they needed was more control, so the duo took out a loan, bought their own studio equipment, and gambled everything on the song that would ultimately save their careers: Sweet Dreams. let's take it apart. (tick, tick, tick, tock) the song starts like this: (bang) and I'm gonna do things a bit differently this time, because Sweet Dreams doesn't use a traditional song form. in fact, that caused some problems for them: RCA was hesitant to promote the single because it didn't have a chorus. instead, its form resembles some of the soul and funk music that first inspired Lennox, with a single primary section that serves as both verse and hook, then some short digressions to keep things interesting. so I think if I really want to meet this song where it's at, the best approach is to look at where that primary section starts, then follow it through the song as it evolves, then come back at the end to look at the other sections and see how they help with those transitions. I also want to quickly shout out the youtube channel Doctor Mix: I'm gonna be talking a lot about individual instrument parts, but there's dozens of them, and like many pop songs of the time, Sweet Dreams was recorded to an 8-track mixer. that means a lot of those isolated stems simply don't exist. fortunately, Doctor Mix did a really thorough reconstruction of it and published that multitrack, so I'll be using those to fill in the gaps. I'll put a link to his video about the process in the description. so, ok. let's look at the main section, as we first meet it in the intro. there's four parts here: two drums and two synths. the synths might seem like the main attraction, but I'm gonna start with the drums. there's a four-on-the-floor kick: (bang) and then, every two bars, one big hit from the thickest tom I've ever heard. (bang) these were both made on an incredibly rare drum machine called an MCS Percussion Computer, and when asked about the sound, Stewart had this to say: "There was this thing on it where if you had a tom‑tom sound, you could just turn a knob and tune it all the way down to sound like a huge drum that you would bang on a ship to get the people rowing. " and that's not just about pitch: sample machines like the Percussion Computer usually handle detuning by just slowing down the playback. making it this low also spreads it out in time, dulling the initial attack and creating an absurdly long decay. seriously, the sound fades so slowly that its tail crosses over all the way into the next beat. in that same interview, Stewart also talks about how this drum sound happened: "The first downbeat, the doom, was actually a mistake, ’cause the bloody drum computer kept doing the opposite of what I was trying to do. But then I thought, Ooh, that actually sounds much better than what I was trying to do. " and that's what's so cool about this era of music: it was the dawn of affordable electronic instruments, but while these tools were becoming a lot more available, they didn't always work great. as with any new technology, there were all sorts of glitches, gremlins, and unintuitive systems. anyone making electronic music was wrestling with

a hostile machine, and the sound of that era is defined just as much by the technology's failures as by its potential. the artists who rose to the top were the ones willing to just go with what was working, letting the technology guide them instead of the other way round. that's gonna be a recurring theme throughout this video, so keep it in mind. anyway, one thing I've been kind of obsessed with recently is drum functions. what role does each part serve within the larger groove? typically, a drum does one of three jobs. well, four jobs, really, but three that are relevant here: a drum can define the beat, create contrast, or fill space. a full drum pattern has parts doing all three jobs, but here, there's only one: the beat. the kick drum is laying out steady quarter notes, while the tom marks the beginning of each phrase. there's no rhythmic excitement, and both drums are pitched pretty low, with no cymbals, snares, or other percussion sounds to fill the rest of the acoustic spectrum. these two factors combine for an anxious, oppressive atmosphere. there's no lightness, no bounce, just this inescapable slog driving forward at 126 beats per minute. the kick moves slightly faster than a comfortable walking pace, while the tom is too slow to temper it. the overall effect is one of intense weight, forcing a sort of mental exertion without a convenient metric middle ground to retreat to. it's a perfect support for Lennox's dark lyrics about a world that abandons its artists. and that brings us to the synths. (bang) these were kind of a huge surprise for me. like many people my age, I grew up with the Marilyn Manson cover, and while I'd always sort of assumed it was the same riff: (bang) it's actually extremely not. for starters, the Eurythmics synth isn't actually a riff. it's two. panned to the right, we have this: (bang) which at least sort of resembles what Manson's guitarist Daisy Berkowitz is playing, and on the left there's this: (bang) which doesn't. but considering how much he changed, it's actually pretty impressive how similar the two parts feel. a lot of that comes down to the chord progression: neither part plays explicit chords, but they both imply the same harmony. there's a bar of C minor, then two beats each of Ab major and G minor. this evokes a classic chord loop called the Andalusian Cadence, which, technically speaking, is a walk down the minor scale from I to V: (bang) but it's also common to skip the bVII and double up another chord instead. doubling the V: (bang) gives you this seesaw figure that trades emphasis back and forth between two relatively equal harmonic poles. on the other hand, doubling the I: (bang) gives you a different sort of alternating pattern, bouncing between periods of rest and bursts of intense motion. this second option is what Sweet Dreams does: Berkowitz approaches it with a sort of Crazy Train-like power chord figure: (bang) which fits very naturally on a fretboard, while Eurythmics takes full advantage of the synth's wider range: (bang) playing around mostly in octaves with the occasional 3rd to complete the chord. the right-side synth keeps a constant 8th-note rhythm: (bang) while the left side stops occasionally: (bang) creating these pockets of dead space, almost like it's trying to rest but the right side won't let it. these different approaches speak to the different vibes of the song: Manson's is slow and creepy, a perfect fit for Berkowitz's leering, haunting arpeggios, while Eurythmics is distressed, almost panicked, thanks in part to the clashing leaps of the misfit synths. and the final piece of this initial puzzle is, of course, Lennox's beautiful contralto vocals. (bang) the range here is pretty limited, mostly running between C and Eb. usually, I'd say that makes her sound conversational, but in this case, that's not even remotely what I hear. that's partly down to the mechanical, stilted rhythm, but I think the main culprit is prosody. the syllables in the lyrics don't seem to fall in particularly natural places. that's most obvious in the second line: the natural phrasing here is really straightforward, with an accent on every other syllable. WHO am I to DISaGREE. but the way she sings it: (bang) is almost completely backwards, warping the words into awkward, synthetic knots. that misplaced emphasis tickles your brain, subtly hinting that this isn't quite how a human would speak. none of the other lines are quite as blatant, but you can still hear slivers of prosodic dissonance scattered around, like this long, held "of". (bang) these misalignments tell you, at an unconscious level, that something isn't quite right, and that subtle sense of unease can only mean one thing: danger. she's telling you to be scared of paradise.

on the melody itself, the main thing I want to talk about is the ending. the song is in C minor, and while each line has its own unique shape, they all start on Eb and end on D. (bang) there's a well-known theoretical model that, very loosely, assumes that any melody can, at its core, be reduced to simple 3-2-1 walkdown. that's a vast oversimplification of the theory, and the theory itself is… questionable, for reasons I don't want to get into here, but it is true that the 3-2-1 walkdown is a really powerful way of organizing a melody to direct the listener toward a complete sense of closure. 3 is consonant but colorful, 2 is unstable and directional, and 1 is the final release. and here, if we just reduce away all the contours and embellishments, we're left with a line that goes 3-2… nothing. she sets up the pattern, but doesn't complete it, leaving each line hanging as it waits for a resolution that never comes. and the symbolism here is obvious: Lennox is mourning a loss of innocence, venting her frustration at a world that's trying to strangle her art. the lyrics speak of broken promises, of constantly searching for meaning, of being chewed up and spit out by the machine that was meant to help her build her dreams. these powerful resolutions that start but never finish are a crushing defeat that resonates throughout the entire song. or, actually, not quite. the second half of the verse does give us a couple lines that end on C. sort of. it's complicated. I've got three reasons why I don't trust these Cs. reason number 1 is the phrasing. the new contour, combined with more connected lyrics, changes my perception of the melodic structure. the first half has four 2-bar phrases, but this feels more like two 4-bar phrases: (bang) with the strong C in the middle. so instead of 3-2-1, I'm hearing 3-1-2. she's bouncing off that root and returning to the unstable 2nd over the course of a longer phrase. and speaking of lyrics, reason number 2 is those. the specific lines she goes to C on are this: ("some of them want to use you. ") and this. abuse you. ") and I don't know what you're into, but to me, those don't sound like sunshine and rainbows. these resolutions aren't for her: things only work out for the people taking advantage of her. reason number 3 is a bit subtle, but I also think it's the most convincing. you might have noticed that she's added a harmony line. it's pretty simple, harmonizing the main melody a 3rd above, except for that pesky C. (bang) there, she sings an F, and it's brutal. and to be clear, this isn't just how she treats Cs: there's a couple incidental ones in the middle of the phrase, and on those, she sings Eb. it's only when the melody tries to resolve that she breaks off and sings the note she would have sung if there'd been a D. the lyrics are telling us this resolution isn't for her, but the background line is saying it shouldn't even exist. it's not real. there's no peace to be found here. this is not a place of honor. it's just a dream. and with that, we've covered the core idea of this song. this is Sweet Dreams. I hesitate to say this because I assume many of you will stop watching if I do, but I honestly don't think anything else I'm gonna talk about really changes the meaning or the story. the groundwork is laid in the first 30 seconds, and the rest of the song orbits around these initial ideas. but there is still more to talk about. even the best loop will eventually get repetitive. they need to add things, and the first thing they add is… a solo. (bang) notewise, there's not a lot to say: they're jamming on C minor pentatonic, with a little blues inflection at the end thanks to a well-placed tritone. (bang) it does seem worth mentioning that these long, held notes are all C, the root that Lennox kept avoiding. that positions this solo as an outburst not of her emotions, but the emotions of the system she's railing against. this is the voice of the machine, reacting to her cries for help with more false promises. but more interesting to me is the other addition: a snare. (bang) tone-wise it's a classic electronic snare sound, with a sharp crack drenched in reverb, but in the context of this beat, it's such a huge relief. and, again, there's three reasons why. first, it's filling another drum function, finally giving us some contrast against the main pulse. even just riding the backbeat like this is enough to give the section a real sense of forward momentum, lifting it up out of the dull, static, pounding kicks we've grown accustomed to. second, it's in a new register: the snare sound sits well above those kicks and toms, introducing a brightness that permeates the soundscape, especially with all that reverb to drag it into all the little nooks and crannies

of the beat. and third, it finally resolves our metric tension. the kicks were a little too fast and the tom was way too slow, but the timing of this snare is just right as a perfect, comfortable rhythm to groove to. it's hard to overstate how much this snare changes the mix, turning it from a dark, foreboding beat into something relatable and smooth. that snare continues as Lennox comes back, and something interesting happens with the vocals. it's the second half of the verse again, and she's still singing both harmonies, but she seems to have flipped which one is the lead. listening to the first one again: (bang) I naturally gravitate toward the lower line, but here: (bang) it's clearly the high one. this buries those false C resolutions even further, relegating them to background status while F becomes the true melodic target. it would've been easy to just raise everything up a 3rd, introducing an even higher harmony, but this flip-flop is a fascinating choice that keeps the resonant imagery of the previous version while building the energy of the song. very cool. the next time we see this section, there are, again, two new additions. the first are these little, tinkling sounds in the percussion: (bang) that were apparently played on milk bottles, with Stewart and Lennox adjusting the water levels to get the pitches just right. this fills up another percussion register, higher again than the snare, up into the range of cymbals and hi-hats. it cuts through the mix beautifully, adding a sort of shimmer to the whole thing that makes these final sections really pop. the other change is another vocal layer, where Lennox adds some wordless wailing: (bang) again evoking the soul music that first inspired her. then they do something radically different: instead of adding, they remove, stripping out all the synths and all the new percussion, leaving us once again with just the kick, tom, and vocals. (bang) this breakdown sets up an even bigger return, this time combining the solo and the vocals at the same time: (bang) for a perfectly executed musical climax that loops until it fades out. but again, I did skip some stuff. structurally I'd break this song up into three phases: the first 30 seconds is the exposition, establishing the body of the song and laying out its primary section. the last minute and a half is the conclusion, looping that section forever and relying solely on orchestration. but in between those is another, more experimental phase, where they do bring in some additional sections, and before we wrap up, we should really talk about those. these alternate sections serve two main purposes: digression and foreshadowing. they provide some level of emotional contrast, and they also contain most of the elements that would later be incorporated into the main theme. these sections come in two different flavors, and I'm not sure what they are in technical song-form terms, so I'll just call them the wasting section and the rising section. the first one we meet is the wasting section, which drags the mood down even further into despair. (bang) and there's a lot going on here: the big, booming tom hit is gone, along with the right-side synth. the left-side synth maintains the same octave pattern to start before slowly expanding into a more melodic shape: (bang) as if it's realized its friend on the right side has abandoned it. Lennox sings some choral pads on top: (bang) as well as some of those wordless ad-libs we're gonna see later in the main section. and joining her in foreshadowing, this is also where we first meet the snare. (bang) this radical reinvention of the musical texture is all in support of a devastating chord progression: (bang) although not one whose true impact is immediately obvious. starting the section on Ab, the only major chord we've heard so far, injects some brightness that's quickly dispelled by a cascade of minor chords. but the harmony tries again, leaping back to Ab and starting over, as if we're dealing with a chord loop. (bang) so let's treat it like one. in chord loops, the first chord is usually the strongest: it tends to sound like the root, so this kinda feels like it's trying to modulate to Ab major. but the rest of the loop isn't doing much to support it: the half-step glide down G minor, followed by some powerful V-I leaps, all point our ears away from that root. even the pause in the vocals, where all the layers of Lennox stop to take a breath: (bang) helps cut Ab off from the smooth harmonic flow that a chord loop requires. the major root is tenuous, brittle, and while Ab seems to want to be the I chord, it struggles to really assert itself. in a vacuum, maybe this key could work, but we're not hearing it in a vacuum. we have context. the surrounding song is in C minor. tonality has a sort of inertia to it, and without a good reason to hear a change

we probably won't. so while this section is trying to make Ab happen, it just doesn't have the juice to do it, and when it has the audacity to keep trying, the song shuts it down for good. the second time starts the same, with Ab to G, but where we'd expect the transient C chord of the loop, we instead hear this: (bang) a full return to the main section, two bars early, with the tom announcing an unambiguous end to the fantasy. it's a fascinating transition: the verse also starts on C, so the progression continues through even as the section gets cut off. really cool stuff. the rising section, on the other hand, is there to lift the song up. (bang) apparently, Stewart thought it was too depressing, so he wrote this interlude to brighten the tone. and it really works. the chords here alternate between C minor and D minor: (bang) implying a much more realistic key change: instead of leaping all the way to Ab major, we've gone to C dorian, which is like minor with a raised 6th. the section also has this rising sawtooth line: (bang) that confirms us in dorian, walking up the entire scale over the section's 8 bars. this new scale is warmer than minor, but still close enough that you can hear it as a concrete step toward healing, not a manic reach toward fantasy. and again unlike the wasting section, this one is allowed to fully play out on its own terms, slowly building its percussion with a technique called progressive layering. the start is already exciting, with the addition of these 16th-note hi-hats: (bang) filling that constant, space-filling role we've been looking for. from there, we get this elaborate pattern on the milk bottles: (bang) and then finally the snare: (bang) all while the supporting synths crescendo into a final release. (bang) and it's worth noting that, while the wasting section was the first to introduce the snare, it's not until the rising section that it actually manages to break through: the percussive release of that backbeat engine is a direct result of this more hopeful, optimistic outlook. so maybe I was wrong when I said this doesn't change the story. maybe this isn't just a song about being broken. maybe it's broken and then continuing on anyway. maybe it's a song about finding hope where you need it because fighting back is hard, but it's also the only thing that matters. I don't know. that wasn't the story I set out to tell, but I think it's the story I need to hear, so that's what I'm choosing to find. sometimes that's just how art works. and as always, thanks for watching. thanks to our featured patrons, Susan Jones, Jill Sundgaard, Howard Levine, Warren Huart, Damien Fuller-Sutherland, Neil Moore, Geoff, and Michael Mol! check out Patreon for a fuller outro, and as always, keep on rockin'!