Understanding Call Me Maybe
hey, welcome to 12tone! the year is 2007, the show is Canadian Idol, and one of the contestants is a young artist named Carly Rae Jepsen. she didn’t win, she came in third, but that was enough to draw the attention of a label, and a year later, she released her debut album, Tug of War. now, before we continue, there’s something you need to know about Canada. by law, most Canadian radio stations are required to ensure at least 40% of the music they play is by Canadian artists. this allows those artists to build local fanbases without having
to compete with the cultural hegemon that is their neighbor to the south, and it’s a large part of why Canada is such a heavy hitter in the world of pop music. so despite the fact that Tug of War was only released domestically, these regulations, combined with her strong showing on Canadian Idol and the fact that her music was really good, meant that when she released the lead single for her upcoming sophomore album in 2011, it received significant airplay. and luckily for Jepsen, one person who happened to hear it on the radio was fellow Canadian pop
icon Justin Bieber, along with his then-partner Selena Gomez. Bieber and Gomez loved the song, and they both shared it with their fans, giving Jepsen her first taste of international attention. soon after, she signed
(bang) and before I get into specifics, I want to make a more general observation: this song is extremely economical with its musical material. almost every part of the accompaniment is based on one of two ideas. using the same material over and over might sound like it’d get boring, but the song tackles that in two ways. first, the two lines are very different: one is static, while the other moves, and they contain different pitches and rhythms that both complement and compete with each other. you don’t need to change as much when the basic groove already sounds
good. and second, while the ideas remain the same, the expressions of those ideas change between sections, so you get the continuity of repetition without the music getting stale. the intro of the song immediately introduces our first idea, which I’m calling the static line. (bang) this is just a G power chord. or, more specifically, it’s a two-note voicing of G and D, with the G on top. this sets us up in the key of G while leaving room for other things to happen underneath. in the intro and verse, the static line is played as straight 8ths
on some orchestral strings, with accents on the offbeats to make it more rhythmically exciting. in the intro it’s unaccompanied, but as soon as the verse comes in, it’s joined by the second idea, the dynamic line. (bang) this one’s mostly stepping back and forth between C and D, embellished with a popping tone, which is a very real music theory term that I definitely didn’t just make up. basically, if it was actually just Cs and Ds: (bang) it’d sound kinda flat, so to keep things interesting, they add an extra decorative note to each transition. one common kind
of melodic decoration is the reaching tone, where you overshoot your target note and then step back down. like, moving from C to D, the most obvious reaching tone would be E. (bang) the popping tone takes that a step further, jumping so far past its target that it has to turn around and jump back again. in this line, that’s a G: (bang) and you can hear how it momentarily pops out of the established melodic range before popping back in. hence, popping tone. on the return to C, they decorate with an E: (bang) which is now serving
as an escape tone, basically a reaching tone in reverse. it steps away from the target, then jumps to it. unlike the G, though, they don’t always play the E. instead, they alternate between adding it and just going directly back to C: (bang) to match the four-bar structure of the melody. together, these two parts can be read as reflecting two competing emotions: hesitance and excitement. in the lyrics, Jepsen finds herself captivated by a stranger. she wants to approach and flirt with him, and she eventually does, but in the verse, she’s working up the courage. the moving
bass feels like butterflies in her stomach, while the passive, unmoving strings are the nerves reminding her how badly this could go. but musically, there’s a problem here. the static line was pretty clear that we’re in the key of G. and the melody agrees: in the verse, Jepsen’s vocals tend to hover around B: (bang) with each line ending on a big G major arpeggio. (bang) the dynamic line, though, is filling the role of the bass here, and it seems to think we’re in C. or maybe D, I dunno, I could make an argument either way. point
is, we’re in a key that contains B, but isn’t very likely to use it as the focus of its melody. it’s tempting to say that these two parts clash, and if that was my takeaway, it’d be pretty easy to build an analysis around that. I could say the tonal disagreement between different parts of the accompaniment reflects the quirky awkwardness of the narrative. it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, but sadly, I’m unconvinced. y’see, this sort of thing has become increasingly common in the pop music of the last couple decades. like, in the Lizzo song About Damn Time,
the guitars and melody are in Bb minor, but the bass sits on Eb: (bang) and that’s not a song that’s trying to convey any sense of awkwardness. and I’m not sure Call Me Maybe is either: while the premise is certainly awkward, it’s framed as an act of confidence and self-expression. so how else can we explain this? I think the best answer is as a form of hybrid tonality. basically, this is the idea that different instruments in a song can exist in multiple keys at the same time as long as there’s no obvious contradiction between them.
again, I don’t know if the bass is better read in C or D, but either way, there only a one note difference between that key and the key of G. and they never make you hear those differences. the melody is strictly pentatonic, and the bass and harmony can be combined into a fairly simple set of chord symbols. I probably wouldn’t, ’cause that feels like it’s missing the point, but it demonstrates that everything, individually, sounds fine together. there’s only a problem if you insist on reading it through the logic of a single key. but still. why
do this? honestly, I think it’s because the key just isn’t that important. the tonal structure of this song is much more based on those two contrasting musical ideas, and setting them in different keys makes that contrast even more compelling. that’s how this song works. anyway, the verse keeps the two lines pretty separate in register, and at fairly similar volumes, so you can follow each one independently without having to worry too much about the overlap. and there’s very little else going on to get in the way of that process: the kick is keeping time, but beyond
that, the only other part here is Jepsen’s vocals. (bang) we already talked about the notes, but I do want to quickly address her phrasing. remember, the static-line strings were emphasizing the off-beats, with an accent on every other 8th note. Jepsen’s phrase, though, has an accent on every 3rd 8th: she starts each bar on the first big string stab and ends on the last one, but in the middle, she has an accented syllable on beat 3, creating this really subtle, almost polyrhythmic effect. listen to how the word “wish” fits with the strings around it. (bang) again,
subtle, but it gives the melody a level of complexity and bounciness that it’s not really getting from its melodic contour. but her phrasing doesn’t just fit with the static line, it also bridges the gap with the dynamic line. when the vocals and strings come together for that last accent at the end of the bar, the bass joins them with one of its decoration tones: (bang) so all three parts are momentarily in agreement. and it’s not just rhythmic, either: they also agree harmonically. the strings and vocals always spell out a G major triad, which the bass
is mostly ignoring. but in these moments, it goes to either a G or an E, turning the whole thing into a fairly consonant G major or E minor 7 chord. it hangs there across the barline, while Jepsen lays out on the downbeat, and then it drops back down as she comes back in on the next offbeat. (bang) through this phrasing, all three parts are in direct conversation, even if two of them don’t sound like they’re listening to each other. that brings us to the prechorus, which is basically like the verse but more. they add in
a handful of extra instruments to build toward the chorus, but each of them sticks to our two main themes. for starters, this section introduces two guitars, panned hard to either side, each playing one of the two lines. (bang) the guitars themselves are pretty quiet, but the panning makes the section feel much larger. up to now, everything’s been mixed pretty close to the middle, but listening to the transition: (bang) you can really hear how the space begins to open up. that’s also driven by the vocals, where Jepsen adds in two additional harmony lines, one above the
main melody and one below. (bang) these fill out the remaining notes of a G major chord, so again, the vocals support the harmony of the static line, even as the dynamic bass becomes more prominent. the harmony vocals are probably the most obvious texture change, beyond maybe the drums, and they add a greater sense of emotional weight to the lyrics. the melody has also become more active: while, technically, the lead vocal range is exactly the same, covering a perfect 5th from G to D, in the verse it mostly sat in the middle of that range: (bang)
saving the full thing for a brief figure at the end of the phrase. here, she runs from the top to the bottom in every line. (bang) but most important is the phrasing: in the verse, she carefully avoided singing the downbeat, but here, each line starts with two straight quarter notes: (bang) conveying her increasing confidence as she works up toward actually approaching this guy. for most of the lines, this trails off into a syncopated 16th-note figure. (bang) this 16th-note syncopation was, again, something she was doing in the verse, but only at the ends of phrases. doing
it every time builds anticipation, which gets released in the final line. here, she makes her move, and all the rhythmic complexity, layered harmonies, and wide-ranging melodies are replaced with a full bar of largely static, solo straight 8ths borrowed directly from the verse. (bang) you might expect that suddenly removing a lot of highly energetic elements would sound weak, but your ears can’t be fooled that easily. the section is clearly ramping up, so a sudden, unprepared drop in texture can only mean one thing: it’s about to explode. in that context, this line doesn’t sound weak at all.
it sounds bold, declarative, and confident, stepping out from behind the trappings of the arrangement to make her intentions known. underneath all that, they’ve also added a bass, which is playing a version of the dynamic line, but with a more specific rhythm. (bang) like the guitars, this is pretty quiet, but I still want to talk about it because it’s an important piece of foreshadowing. in this version, the notes still change at the same times as before, but without playing all the hits in between. the verse line was a constant stream of 8th notes, so while it
was melodically syncopated, the pulse was still pretty smooth. but here, those filler notes are gone. they’re not even hitting the downbeat: instead, they hit the 8th notes before and after it, then settle in for a rhythmic resolution on beat 2. (bang) this doesn’t so much introduce syncopation as it does highlight the syncopation that was already there, but the point is this new rhythm for the dynamic line feels bigger and punchier, and while it’s not all that present yet, it’s about to be. that’s because, in the chorus, the entire texture changes dramatically, and at the center
of it all is a synth line: (bang) that may sound entirely new, but it’s actually just a harmonized version of that same bass. it’s more tempting than ever to analyze this as a chord progression, and sure, you probably could, but I’m not gonna ’cause I still think it’s better understood as developing the dynamic line. and we can see that in the voicings: the synth is just playing power chord blocks, jumping around in register to match the contour of the line. the actual chord qualities are provided by a violin that fills in the 3rd of each
chord, which is, again, jumping around. if I take those same parts and smoothly voicelead them instead: (bang) it loses most of its excitement and energy, so I’m not convinced that what’s happening here has much to do with the chords. the switch to fuller voicings feels similar to when the prechorus added some harmony vocals: they do provide harmonic information, but they’re really there to reinforce the melody. it’s probably worth noting that the chord qualities here are all from the key of G major, which does sort of settle that debate, but again I don’t care much about
the key. what matters here is the massive change in the power dynamics of the texture: in the verse, both lines were roughly balanced, but here, the dynamic line has clearly won, to the point where no one’s even playing the static line. the entire tonal accompaniment consists of bass, synth, and string parts, all playing the same thing. if we view these two themes as representing hesitance and excitement, then the hesitance is gone. there’s no turning back. she’s crossed the threshold, and now we hear the rush of adrenaline that comes with actually doing the thing. but the
chorus isn’t over. pop songwriting often relies heavily on playing around with different levels of orchestral energy. the verse sets the baseline: (bang) the prechorus ramps it up: (bang) and the chorus hits the maximum level. (bang) that’s a classic pattern, but many pop songs take it a step further, splitting these sections in half for even more distinct layers. in Call Me Maybe, they play the chorus twice, first as another build-up: (bang) and then finally as a climax. (bang) what we’ve been talking about so far is the build-up chorus, so let’s look at what they add to
make that climax chorus really pop. first, there’s the return of the background vocals. (bang) I’m only hearing the one higher harmony this time, so it’s not quite as full as the prechorus, but it has a similar effect. second, there’s the drum beat. this changes in a couple ways, but the main one I want to focus on is the hi-hat. in the build-up chorus: (bang) it’s reserved for the 8th note before beat 4, where an open hat is used to set up the last snare of the bar for a stronger sense of metric closure. but in
the climax chorus: (bang) there’s a closed hat on every offbeat 8th, giving it a stronger, bouncier sound and filling more of the rhythmic space. but the change I actually want to talk about is the new guitar lines. there’s two of these. the first is just doing dynamic line power chords, but check out the riff behind it: (bang) that’s the static line. I know it doesn’t look the same, but it’s still a two-note pattern of G and D, with G on top, that doesn’t change as the chords do. or, ok, it’s actually three notes, the D
gets approached by an E, but that’s just decoration. the structure here is the same as the strings from the intro, just thoroughly recontextualized. but I don’t think this means she’s hesitant again: that’s feels like an overly literal reading, and it doesn’t really fit with the story. I think it’s more like a synthesis of those earlier emotions. the dynamic line is clearly still in control here, transforming that nervous energy into a sense of happiness and pride. this leads back into the verse, resetting us to the energetic baseline. sort of. ok, not really. here’s the first verse:
(bang) and here’s the second. (bang) played back to back, it’s really obvious that a lot’s been added: there’s a new drum beat, a harmony line, and those guitar and bass parts from the prechorus. but by putting such a big chorus in between, you kinda forget how quiet the first verse was, and a drop all the way back to that would feel too drastic. (bang) carrying some of that extra energy back into the verse keeps the dynamic contour of the song moving in the right direction. interestingly, all these elements were borrowed from the prechorus, and they
don’t really add any new ones, so the transition into the second prechorus: (bang) feels much more subtle. instead, the build-up to the chorus only comes at the end of the section, with a couple crescendoing parts. actually, let’s talk about crescendos and section transitions, ’cause in this style of music they’re kind of a big deal. it’s very common for pop songs to accentuate the end of the prechorus with some sort of gradual, increasing process to ramp smoothly into the chorus. and Call Me Maybe is no exception. but to keep things interesting, they never do the same
transition twice. for the first chorus, we just have this filter sweep: (bang) which, like the rest of the band, cuts out a beat before the chorus to create a little stop-time accent. (bang) for the second chorus, the filter sweep is still there, but the more prominent crescendo is this sped-up tape effect: (bang) which carries through that stop-time break, making this transition feel more connected. (bang) that effect is also mirrored at the end of the chorus, going into the breakdown, where we hear the same tape but this time slowing down. (bang) at the end of the
breakdown, to set up the final chorus, we get another new sound, a reversed cymbal: (bang) which stops two beats early, leaving an even longer stop-time gap that feeds directly into the climax chorus for a huge change in texture. (bang) I don’t have a lot to say about any of these individually, but taken together, this constantly changing chorus approach makes sure the transition never gets boring. each chorus hits a little bit different. and speaking of transitions, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the decorative string slides that pop up at the end of each chorus section.
(bang) I think the purpose of these is pretty obvious: they’re a huge shot of energy. the arrival of the chorus is explosive, but if you want to keep that intensity going through the entire section then you need something else to build toward. the conclusion has to be just as exciting. this string line is like the chorus of the chorus, an extra piece of punctuation to push it over the top. but there’s still one section we haven’t talked about yet: the postchorus. after the second chorus, we get another section with roughly the same arrangement, but a
new melody and lyrics. (bang) this is technically what’s called a detached postchorus, because the vocal part isn’t connected to anything from the chorus, and it gives us one more even higher energetic plateau. that’s important because, unlike the verses, the choruses don’t actually change. each time we hear the climax chorus, the arrangement is identical. but in order for the song to have a good dynamic contour, the first chorus can’t just be the biggest thing. it needs somewhere to go from there, and adding the postchorus to the later choruses is a great way to do that. but
how does it create that lift? again, it’s pretty similar to the chorus, but with one added line, played in the guitar and synth. (bang) this descending line is noteworthy because, for the first time in this whole song, it’s not based on either of our initial themes. there’s no real way to tie it to the static line or the dynamic line, which means it doesn’t represent hesitance or excitement, but a secret third emotion. based on the lyrics, I’d probably call it longing: this section implies a deeper emotional connection than you’d expect if she just saw someone
she thought was cute. it’s something more than just a crush, and the new accompaniment line adds a sense of yearning to match that story. and that brings me to my last point, because honestly, there’s a moment in this song I don’t really understand. after the postchorus, there’s a breakdown, and at the end of that, it ramps back up into the climax chorus: (bang) but I’m convinced that they should’ve added in the postchorus guitar. (bang) this does a lot of things, but the main thing is that, without it, I don’t think the dynamic contour makes as
much sense. I mean, you have this giant, triumphant postchorus, then a breakdown. that’s a really clear sign that the next thing you hear will be the biggest thing yet, a final capstone on the song’s energetic arc, but without the guitar line, it’s not. why not? the most obvious explanation is, of course, that maybe they didn’t think of it, but that’s not a satisfying answer. for me, the goal of analysis isn’t to get inside the artist’s head, it’s to get inside the listener’s, so even if I could prove it never occurred to them, that wouldn’t tell
me much about what I’m hearing. so instead, here’s three theories for why they might have made this choice on purpose. explanation 1: there’s another postchorus after this, and they wanted to leave room for that to be even bigger. which, sure, makes sense, although I’m not sure that adding the guitar line makes it so busy that there’s no room to add anything else. besides, as we saw with the prechorus, it’s ok if a section transition that was dramatic the first time is smoother and smaller the second time. still, it’s a reasonable concern. explanation 2: if the
guitar line represents longing, that’s not necessarily a great narrative fit for the chorus lyrics. and I dunno, personally I think that added emotional symbolism recontextualizes those lyrics in a pretty interesting way, but it does recontextualize them and maybe they didn’t want that. fair enough. explanation 3: the guitar line sometimes clashes with the chorus melody, most notably at the ends of phrases where Jepsen resolves to G while the guitar hangs on an A. (bang) and yeah, ok, that sounds bad. if I were writing this, then, I wouldn’t just copy and paste the guitar line, I’d record
a new one that was mostly the same but doubled the vocals instead for these last two beats. (bang) but that’s a bigger change and may have stood out more than they wanted. between these three explanations, I can safely say I don’t think this was a bad choice, but it’s still not the one I would’ve made, and personally I do find this transition a little unsatisfying because of it. still, though, it’s possible I’m missing something, so if you have another theory, please do let me know in the comments. I don’t like saying bad things about other
people’s art, so I would love to find a way to appreciate this choice. and that’s pretty much it. Call Me Maybe isn’t a song that’s trying to be too deep: it’s a banger, an earworm, an anthem, or whatever term you prefer for a song that gets stuck in your head but you don’t want it to leave. and it’s a really good one, too: it’s absurdly catchy, immediately relatable, and just, like, incredibly fun to listen to. after watching this video, I’m sure it’ll be stuck in your head for the rest of the day, and uh… yeah.
I’m not sorry. anyway, thanks for watching, thanks to our Patreon patrons for making these videos possible, and extra special thanks to our Featured Patrons, Susan Jones, Jill Sundgaard, Duck, Howard Levine, Warren Huart, Damien Fuller-Sutherland, and Jon Hancock! if you want to help out, and help us pick the next song we analyze too, there’s a link to our Patreon on screen now. oh, and don’t forget to like, share, comment, subscribe, and above all, keep on rockin’.
