Some artists possess a sonic quality that resonates deeply with the queer experience. It’s an elusive characteristic, yet often identifiable by a poignant blend of vulnerability and empowerment within their music. Think of the introspective harmonies of the Indigo Girls, the celebratory defiance of Hercules and Love Affair, the soulful storytelling of Tracy Chapman, or the flamboyant liberation of the Scissor Sisters. While musically diverse, these artists share a common thread: their ability to articulate longing and desire in ways that deeply resonate with LGBTQ+ listeners.
This unique resonance became vividly clear one evening in Brooklyn. As the opening chords of a familiar song filled the air, a track deeply ingrained in my emotional landscape despite predating my own birth, the realization struck me: “A Little Respect” by Erasure. Under the shimmering reflections of a disco ball, casting a kaleidoscope of pink and blue across the room, the song’s profound impact intensified.
Released in 1988 as part of their album The Innocents, “A Little Respect” cemented itself as a defining track in Erasure’s discography, becoming their second entry into the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at number 14. While seasoned Erasure enthusiasts might point to lesser-known gems within their extensive catalog, “A Little Respect” consistently draws me back. Beyond its status as a perfectly crafted pop song, it delivers a potent message about queer identity and the complexities of love.
The song is fronted by Andy Bell, a pioneering openly gay pop artist who fearlessly sang about queer romance at a time when it was rarely heard in mainstream music. In “A Little Respect,” Bell embodies the role of a partner yearning for reciprocation, imploring their hesitant lover to embrace their feelings. His vocal delivery is imbued with a palpable desperation. You can hear it in the soulful plea, “Soul, I hear you calling,” as the bassline swells in harmony with the acoustic guitar, mirroring Bell’s descent into his rich lower register. This vulnerability then gives way to soaring hope as he ascends to his signature falsetto, begging for just “a little respect” from his reticent partner. It’s a performance both heartbreaking and hopeful, intensely intimate yet universally relatable.
This yearning for respect and acceptance is a recurring theme in many songs that resonate within the LGBTQ+ community. Like “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” with its simple yet powerful affirmation of a brighter future beyond daily struggles, “A Little Respect” taps into that essential queer hope. The feeling of being lost or in perpetual crisis, so often a part of the queer experience, is presented as temporary, a prelude to something better. This optimistic undercurrent also flows through the hopeful yearning in Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car,” a song tinged with sadness but ultimately driven by the dream of a better life. “A Little Respect,” at its core, is a plea for love, but within that plea lies a profound reminder of love’s power to heal and uplift. It speaks to the transformative potential of love as a form of salvation. (It’s this very sentiment that makes “A Little Respect” feel like the perfect anthem for a queer wedding.)
Ultimately, “A Little Respect” serves as a powerful reminder that queer love, while often forged in the fires of resilience, doesn’t have to be defined by tragedy. To love and to express that love openly is, in itself, an act of triumph. “A Little Respect” encapsulates that triumph – the victory of queer individuals finding love and boldly proclaiming its glory to the world. It’s more than just a pop song; it’s an anthem of self-respect, a declaration of love’s enduring power, and a testament to the resilient spirit of the queer community.
