Mixtape for the Apocalypse

I’ve been listening to Fiction Factory’s “(Feels Like) Heaven)” for years now, and I only recently discovered that I’ve been getting it completely wrong the entire time. The lush synthesizers, that dreamy opening line about heaven being closer—I always thought it was one of those sweeping love songs that defined the eighties. Turns out, it’s actually about the exact opposite: the sweet relief of escaping someone you absolutely can’t stand.

It’s kind of brilliant when you think about it.

The Perth Connection

Fiction Factory emerged from Perth, Scotland in 1982, born from the ashes of a ska band called The Rude Boys. The core trio—vocalist Kevin Patterson, keyboardist Eddie Jordan, and guitarist Chic Medley—had been playing together in various local bands since the late seventies. Patterson had worked as a software developer while nurturing his musical ambitions, and Jordan had been his musical partner through several iterations of different projects.

When The Rude Boys dissolved due to musical differences, Patterson, Jordan, and Medley saw an opportunity to try something new. Their influences read like a who’s who of early eighties innovation: Magazine, Kraftwerk, and especially Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, whom Patterson described as “a big favourite.” You can hear those influences threading through their sound—the melancholic undertones of Magazine, the pristine electronic textures of Kraftwerk, the melodic sophistication of OMD.

What’s fascinating is that Fiction Factory wasn’t originally meant to be a performing band at all. The trio initially conceived themselves as a songwriting unit that would craft hits for other artists. But when record companies showed little interest in that model, CBS Records suggested they form an actual concert-playing band. So they recruited bassist Graham McGregor and drummer Mike Ogletree, who brought serious credentials—he’d just left Simple Minds after a brief stint during their New Gold Dream tour.

The Song That Changed Everything

“(Feels Like) Heaven” was written in 1982, one of the very first collaborations between Patterson and Jordan after forming Fiction Factory. According to Patterson, the song came together with unusual ease—the kind of creative flow that signals something special is happening. He recalled that once they got a handle on the main themes, everything gained momentum and fell into place without debate or agonizing. They both knew they’d written something different.

But here’s where it gets interesting. In a 1984 interview with Sounds magazine, Patterson explained the song’s true meaning: “I suppose to some it is milk pop and that was our intention—to write a commercial song that would get the companies interested. But it’s not a very subtle song. It’s not about loving somebody at all, it’s about being loved by someone you absolutely despise.”

Read that again. The title isn’t celebrating the presence of someone—it’s celebrating their absence. When they finally turn and go, that’s when it feels like heaven.

Patterson later elaborated: “We were probably a bit too clever for our own good and wanted to do something that was subversive. Its lyrics are like an anti-love song. It’s someone singing about another person who they really don’t like. When you’re in their company it’s terrible and when they go it feels like heaven.”

The Lyrical Misdirection

Once you know what the song is actually about, you can’t unhear it. Those verses that seemed poetic and romantic take on a completely different tone. Lines about not believing the things someone says, about twisting bones until they snap, about tears paving the way—these aren’t the tender confessions of someone in love. They’re the frustrated observations of someone trapped in a toxic relationship.

The pivotal moment comes at the end of the second verse: “And then you turn and go.” That’s the moment of liberation. The chorus that follows isn’t about the euphoria of togetherness—it’s about the relief of finally being alone again.

In 1984, people didn’t commonly use the term “toxic relationship” the way we do now, but that’s precisely what Fiction Factory was describing. The constant criticism, the emotional manipulation, the sense of walking on eggshells—it’s all there in the lyrics if you listen closely. The song’s genius lies in wrapping this bitter sentiment in such gorgeous, romantic-sounding packaging that most listeners completely missed the point.

Chart Success and Cruel Irony

Released on December 30, 1983, “(Feels Like) Heaven” became Fiction Factory’s only major hit. It climbed to number six on the UK Singles Chart and performed even better across Europe—reaching number two in Switzerland, number ten in Germany, number twelve in the Netherlands, number fourteen in Sweden, and somehow hitting number one in Paraguay. For a band that wasn’t supposed to exist as performers, it was an extraordinary achievement.

But this success came with a painful irony. Because so many listeners misinterpreted the song as a conventional love ballad, they expected Fiction Factory to deliver more of the same. Audiences wanted sappy love songs. They wanted romantic synthpop. They wanted the band to be something Fiction Factory fundamentally wasn’t.

The reality was that Fiction Factory’s entire catalog leaned heavily toward the cynical side of the emotional spectrum. Their songs dealt with love as something that hurts, disappoints, and complicates life. Patterson, the lead songwriter, clearly wasn’t interested in writing painless love songs. But the lyrical dissonance of “(Feels Like) Heaven)”—that tragic breakup narrative set against a cheery, uplifting musical backdrop—inadvertently branded them as purveyors of romantic fluff.

This misconception weighed heavily on the band. People’s expectations didn’t match their artistic vision, and that creative disillusionment became one of the factors in their eventual breakup.

The Aftermath

Fiction Factory’s follow-up single, “Ghost of Love,” only reached number 64 on the UK charts. Their debut album, Throw the Warped Wheel Out, released in 1984, didn’t chart at all in the UK, though it found moderate success in mainland Europe. The band toured Europe as support for OMD—a dream gig for Patterson given his admiration for the band—but by the end of 1984, Jordan, McGregor, and Ogletree had all departed.

Patterson and Medley soldiered on with session musicians for a second album, Another Story, in 1985, but it failed to make any commercial impact. By 1987, Fiction Factory had disbanded entirely. Patterson left the music industry and eventually found work in the IT department at the University of Dundee. He got married, had two children, and built a life far removed from the brief flash of pop stardom he’d experienced.

There’s something poignant about that trajectory—from having a Top 10 hit that millions misunderstood to working quietly in an IT department. Kevin Patterson’s story embodies a certain kind of eighties music industry tale: the one-hit wonder whose artistic vision never quite aligned with commercial expectations.

The Enduring Legacy

Despite Fiction Factory’s brief existence and fraught relationship with their own success, “(Feels Like) Heaven)” has endured. It’s become a staple of eighties compilations and nostalgic playlists. In 2003, dance group Dario G covered it as “Heaven Is Closer (Feels Like Heaven),” taking it back into the UK Top 40. In 2016, the Manic Street Preachers performed it during their Everything Must Go 20th Anniversary Tour and included their version on a BBC compilation. The song appeared in Netflix’s “The Umbrella Academy” in 2019, introducing it to a new generation.

The original Fiction Factory lineup even reunited for the Rewind Festival in 2011—their first performance together since 1984. Patterson and Jordan had already reunited once before, performing the song at Jordan’s wedding in 2007, two decades after they’d last played it together. By all accounts, the chemistry was still there, the vocals still held up.

What Makes It Last

I think about why this song has persisted when so many other eighties hits have faded. Part of it is certainly the production—that pristine synthpop sound that Eddie Jordan and the band achieved feels timeless rather than dated. Kevin Patterson’s voice carries real emotional weight too, influenced by the dramatic stylings of the Walker Brothers and the art-rock intensity of Magazine’s Howard Devoto.

But I think the real reason “(Feels Like) Heaven)” endures is precisely because of that subversive core that Patterson and Jordan built into it. Even if most listeners don’t consciously recognize the anti-love song at its heart, maybe they feel it on some level. Maybe that’s why it resonates differently than a straightforward romantic ballad would. There’s complexity there, a tension between the beautiful surface and the bitter truth underneath.

It’s a song about relief masquerading as a song about rapture. It’s about escape disguised as arrival. It’s one of those rare pop songs that manages to be both immediately accessible and quietly subversive—the kind of track that reveals new layers the more you live with it.

The Beautiful Deception

Looking back, Fiction Factory’s greatest achievement and their biggest frustration were the same thing: they wrote a song so beautiful that people couldn’t hear its anger. They crafted something so melodically perfect that audiences overlooked the lyrical bite. They created a masterpiece of misdirection that was almost too successful.

In Patterson’s words, they were “probably a bit too clever for our own good.” But decades later, knowing what the song is really about, I don’t think they were too clever at all. I think they were exactly clever enough to create something that works on multiple levels—as a gorgeous piece of synthpop you can lose yourself in, and as a sharp-edged commentary on the relief of escaping toxicity.

“(Feels Like) Heaven)” remains a perfect example of how the best pop music can hide profound truths in plain sight. Sometimes the most euphoric moments in life aren’t about gaining something beautiful—they’re about finally letting go of something that was slowly suffocating you.

And yeah, that does feel like heaven.

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