One Hit Wonders: The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony” Struck the Right Chord
‘C’est la vie’ in song form, ‘90s hit “Bitter Sweet Symphony” carries a legacy as complicated as its sentiments.
Sometimes, the music industry is all about being in the right place at the right time. One Hit Wonders determines the factors that may have helped popularize a hit song before the artist in question ultimately disappeared from the spotlight.
Written by Myah Taylor
Photo courtesy of Bob Berg/Getty Images
There’s something so familiar about the existential hum of strings that open The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony.” And maybe that’s because it’s one of those songs — the ones stored in the recesses of collective memory. The classics people know, but they aren’t exactly sure how.
Lead singer Richard Ashcroft’s melancholic anthem, which he claims principal songwriting credits for, is also incredibly British; its hope is subdued and its realism unflinching. Most alt-rock music coming out of the U.K. was at that time. It was the ‘90s after all — when Liam and Noel Gallagher could stomach each other just enough to sing about “wonderwalls” and “champagne supernovas,” and when Radiohead became the cool kids with the release of OK Computer.
“Bitter Sweet Symphony” fit that Britpop mold, but with an orchestral flair to do its title justice. Its more-refined sound, which recalls music from the days of the 1960s British Invasion, was all the rage in the dwindling years of the second millennium. The musical movement headlined by acts such as Oasis, Blur, and Pulp produced songs to soundtrack a new-look Britain rising from the ashes and embracing new leadership after the toils of the ‘70s and ‘80s. Britpop not only reflected the U.K.’s idealism at the time, but it also aimed to combat the grungy guitars dominating airwaves in the Isles and across the pond. But The Verve didn’t have to buddy up with U.K. Prime Minister Tony Blair, rock Union Jack apparel, or appeal to the Cool Britannia campaign to garner a hit at home and abroad. Instead, Ashcroft and his band mastered the art of feeling. “Bitter Sweet Symphony” captured the mood of Brits, and people everywhere, stuck in the rat race also known as life.
By the time the succinct violins and steady kick drum begin to overlay the buzz that opens the song, Ashcroft delivers lines from its perceptive first verse: “‘Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, that’s life / Tryna make ends meet, you’re a slave to money then you die.”
It’s a brilliant observation, really — even though it may seem obvious. In 1997, when The Verve released the acclaimed Urban Hymns, the home of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” and other moderately successful singles, the U.K. was seven years removed from the reign of former prime minister Margaret Thatcher. When Thatcher took office in 1979, she uprooted the socially democratic system of government which had persisted in the U.K. since the postwar years. It was out with labor unions and in with the same sort of neoliberal economic reform Ronald Reagan tried to implement in the United States during his two presidential terms.
This move toward unfettered capitalism lasted in the U.K. until 1990, when Thatcher resigned from her position after receiving pushback within her own party for her increasingly radical ideas. When the aforementioned Blair of the Labour Party took office in 1997, he did away with some of Thatcher’s reforms to move Britain forward but still remained committed to a free market and the country’s modernization. Blair represented a new hope for the country, but policies such as outdated drug laws, curfews for young people, and the cancellation of supplementary allowances for the unemployed upset The Verve and other pop acts enough to publicly criticize New Labour.
With all this in mind, the notions of individualism and paving one’s own way in the world seem to weigh heavily on Ashcroft in the song. He feels as if he does indeed have control over his life, but the lyrics also suggest he’s doomed to stagnation with no chance at mobility. “I can change, I can change / But I’m here in my mold,” Ashcroft sings before he continues, “And I’m a million different people / From one day to the next / I can’t change my mold.”
In the “Bitter Sweet Symphony” video, Ashcroft confidently struts through a busy London street and, staring straight ahead, bulldozes into passersby he encounters on his path. The clip, which has amassed 631 million YouTube views and counting, shows the singer literally fighting for a sense of purpose — his life’s mission, whatever that is — on what he describes as “the only road I’ve ever been down,” which inevitably leads to death. The sequence forces one to consider how significant an individual can really be among billions of other people in the world.
Ashcroft asks listeners to ponder something else, too: “Have you ever been down?” That simple inquiry is part of what makes “Bitter Sweet Symphony” so universal. And maybe this relatability, coupled with its atmospheric sonics and cool aesthetics, is why it resonated so much with audiences.
But the song’s success was, well, bittersweet. Formed in 1990, The Verve released two prior albums, 1993’s A Storm in Heaven and 1995’s A Northern Soul, to moderate success in the U.K. “Bitter Sweet Symphony” was the group’s breakthrough in the U.S. where it peaked at No. 12 on the Billboard Hot 100, becoming one of the chart’s alternative outliers in 1998. The track did even better at home, climbing to No. 2 on the U.K. Singles Chart. Beloved by the masses, “Bitter Sweet Symphony” was a critical favorite, too. NME named the track its 1997 Single of the Year, The Verve snagged Video Music Award nominations for the song’s video, and its overall praise culminated into a “Best Rock Song” nomination at the 1999 Grammy Awards.
Its brilliance continued to make a mark on culture in subsequent years. The use of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” in the 1999 teen drama film “Cruel Intentions” revived the track’s popularity. In fact, its inclusion in the film was so crucial that producers forked out 10% of the film’s budget to ensure the strings and thoughtful lyrics could soundtrack the final scene. Then in 2005, Chris Martin of Coldplay called it “the best song ever written” during a performance with Ashcroft at a Live 8 benefit concert.
Photo courtesy of Hut Records
Yet, Ashcroft couldn’t fully enjoy its success — at least, not monetarily. The pristine violin riff which weaves throughout the track was not The Verve’s brainchild; the music featured is derived from a sample of Andrew Loog Oldham’s orchestral take on The Rolling Stones’ “The Last Time.” Thus, a plagiarism charge tainted the genius of “Bitter Sweet Symphony.” After the legal proceedings, the Stones’ Mick Jagger and Keith Richards claimed songwriting credits, and all royalties went to their former manager, Allen Klein. So Ashcroft’s “slave to money” line rang true; Oldham also sued the band for $1.7 million.
Life imitates art, right? Or is it the other way around?
Simon Jones, The Verve’s bassist, said he thought the royalties would be split halfway. Then, when the song took off, the Stones’ team called up asking for 100% or they’d pursue legal action. Technicalities aside, Ashcroft knew with whom the true merits of the song lie, saying bitterly, “This is the best song Jagger and Richards have written in 20 years.” His frustration continued long after. "I'm coming for that money,” Ashcroft said in an interview on the Kyle Meredith With… podcast in November 2018. “Someone stole God-knows-how-many million dollars off me in 1997, and they've still got it."
Two decades after The Verve broke up for the second time, Jagger and Richards finally decided to play nice, signing 100% of the royalties and credits to the song over to Ashcroft. The frontman celebrated the victory as he accepted the Ivor Novello Award, a lifetime achievement honor for songwriting and composition in April 2019. It was long overdue, but Ashcroft can finally claim full authorship to this rather fitting line from the song: “I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now.”
It’s ironic that The Verve’s magnum opus and biggest hit was one the band couldn’t fully take credit for until recently, but it kind of makes sense. Anyone who’s been on this spinning globe long enough knows that something’s always got to give. What goes up must come down. Nothing can ever be too perfect. As Ashcroft so artfully articulates in “Bitter Sweet Symphony,” life is one big duality: “sex and violence, melody and silence.”