Under Pressure

That bass line. Four notes that Vanilla Ice would later steal and lie about, but that’s not the point. The point is that John Deacon wrote something so simple, so perfect, that it became the skeleton key to one of the strangest collaborations in rock history.

Here’s how it happened: David Bowie stopped by Mountain Studios in Montreux while Queen was recording. Just a friendly visit. A few drinks. Someone suggested they jam. And then, fueled by wine and whatever else was going around in 1981, two of the most theatrical performers in music history started making something up on the spot.

No plan. No agenda. Just Freddie Mercury and David Bowie circling each other like prizefighters, each one trying to out-sing the other while somehow finding common ground.

The song almost didn’t survive. Bowie wanted to take it in one direction, Queen in another. There were arguments. There was ego—God, was there ego. These weren’t exactly humble men. But something about that bass line kept pulling them back. Something about the way their voices wove together in the studio made them realize they’d stumbled onto something real.

“It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about.” That’s the line that cracks me open every time. Not a complaint. Not a whine. Just a raw acknowledgment that being alive means being afraid, and that the only answer is to give each other grace.

The scatting at the end—that weird, improvised vocal jousting between Freddie and Bowie—sounds like two people who’ve stopped trying to win and started trying to communicate. It’s messy. It’s human. It’s exactly what the song is about.

Love’s such an old-fashioned word, Bowie sings. And he’s right. It is. But it’s also the only word that fits.