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Especially early on, synthpop had a cold, sterile sound to it. And they lyrics often reflected this: whether it be the Human League warning you that the circus of death is approaching or Gary Numan literally telling you he’s separating himself from you. And while there was a later thawing in synthpop (think Annie Lennox’s fiery vocals as a counterpoint to Dave Stewarts icy synths), Howard Jones represents a complete turn from the beginning. And why not? He embraced Buddhism, and groups of his songs can be thought of as sutras to guide your spirit. And in an age when optimism feels endangered and emotional well-being keeps slipping, Howard Jones’s gentle synth anthems sound almost radical. Let’s take at four songs that embody these the most.
Jones’ started his career with the aptly-titled New Song - an intro and gateway to his warm, zen-like style sonically and lyrically. The lyric “break off your mental chains” urge you to spiritually awaken, to shed your ego and begin again.
What comes after that spark can be found in Hide and Seek. The airy, flute-like intro with atmospheric background synths throughout (thanks to soft reverb) provide the meditative environment conducive for spiritual awakening. The percussion is minimized and the sonic dynamics restrained to avoid puncturing this mindful mood. Hide and Seek encourages stillness; contrast this with the dissonant or eerie synths of earlier synthpoppers meant to make you squirm (even with hits like Numan’s Cars). Compared to New Song, Jones reigns in the enthusiasm but still retains the humanity. The lyrics touch on Buddhism’s concept of non-duality, that the self (seeker) and world (truth) are one. The lyric “We’re not separate from what we think we are” says that awakening is hiding in plain sight, and all we need to do is notice it. Indeed, it’s not a journey - it’s the realization that the destination has been here all along.
Koan: When the seeker stops searching, the truth stops hiding.
The next entry, Things Can Only Get Better, may not be a deep cut, but still shows Howard Jones’ compassion and empathy in spades. The immediate bright synth in the intro, along with Jones’ open-hearted delivery. gives off the sense of sunlight after a rain (or enlightenment replacing entitlement). The drum pattern is also buoyant, keeping the uplifting tone. In Things, he’s cheering up someone who is bummed and anxious, but more important is the way he’s doing it. Things can only get better, but only if you, as New Song put it, “unlock your mental chains”. Jones sounds relatable with the line “Do you feel scared? I do. But I won’t stop and falter”, providing an excellent model for resilience. Jones shows he has vocal range - while Hide and Seek is contemplative, he pivots to an an enthusiastic tone bordering on glee in a couple spots (like “I do”). Brassy synth stabs and slap-bass keyboard patches energize the song, and the gospel-like backing vocals make for a communal, anthemic sound. The entire chorus is “Whoa-oh-oh”, but it’s delivered with zest and is an instant, memorable hook. Not to mention a crowd sing-along favorite, making the compassion communal. But it also allows the listener to focus better on the lesson (the verses).
Koan: The moment you share your fear, it becomes courage.
With the sutras of awakening and compassion mentioned, now comes a test that requires us to use both to pass: the sutra of equanimity. In the chorus of the more reflective Will You Still Be There?, Howard Jones reminds us that hard times will inevitably hit us (“the night comes, the glory’s over and the chill comes”). And while this is one of the most common musical tropes, the real strength of the song is Jones’ clarion call to continue expressing friendship and love. “. His lyrics “there’s a need to know we’re wanted… to know you care” are a reminder that remaining calm and open-minded when faced with adversity is crucial to our collective well-being. In doing so, Jones says, it’s important to respond to the adversity with acceptance rather than drama and endurance. Indeed, equanimity is the wisdom to not cling to highs and lows. Jones is calling for emotional maturity, and to use the toolbox acquired from the Awakening and Compassion sutras.. As for the sonic palette, Jones deftly opts for gentle, in the realm of Hide and Seek: for Will You Still be There?, think electric piano, soft pads on those synths, and a restrained rhythm section. Texture is king thanks to guitar arpeggios and backing harmonies smoother than butter. This induces the very emotional steadiness that Jones is promoting.
Koan: The tide withdraws, yet the ocean remains.
The final sutra, that of interdependence, can only be reached after practicing enlightenment and compassion no matter the circumstances. Now, Everlasting Love was a hit, and it works great as a “I want a soul partner” song. But Jones transforms (get it?) it into something higher. For example, his gentle but colorful digs at typical rock “I want sex” songs (sly counterpoints to the bravado of Hutchence and Falco) drive the point home with a bit of humor and still in the Howard Jones style (the highlight is “he wasn’t looking for a notch on his bedpost”). And on the flip side, his metaphors to describe true love (“a love to push, pull, and burst at the seams”) make the emotion come to life to the listener. And in doing all this, one will feel connected and interdependent (not co-dependent). Two souls breathing in rhythm, not in competition. It’s certainly than brighter and more melodic than Hide and Seek and Will You Still Be There?. A distinct sonic feature of Everlasting Love is the layered, rising keyboards and strings that give a shimmering quality to the song. Since we’re almost at the end of the ‘80s Jones folds in a steady drum-machine groove and bass synth, and there’s other nods to late-80s glossy production. But the result is still Jones’ signature optimism. And it earned him a hit in the US and Canada (the UK and Australia not so much). The interdependence learned with this song means we’ve arrived at the final destination of this spiritual journey. Or maybe it was in us all along…
Koan: Two voices, one breath - where does one end?
In an era when disconnection feels epidemic, Howard Jones’s music remains a quiet act of rebellion. His songs remind us that enlightenment isn’t found in retreat but in compassion, patience, and love that outlasts ego. He offered the gentlest of revolutions—one waged with melody, mindfulness, and faith in our better selves. Nearly forty years later, these sutras still hum beneath the noise, reminding us that optimism can be its own form of courage.
Enjoy this curated list of Howard Jones classics (and some deeper cuts)!