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The Unforgettable Magic of Lisa Stansfield’s ‘All Around the World’

Introduction

“All Around the World” is a timeless classic that has resonated with generations of music enthusiasts. This iconic song was brought to life by the British artist, Lisa Stansfield, and became a sensation when it was released in 1989. Stansfield’s soulful voice, paired with the song’s irresistible melody, continues to captivate audiences even decades after its initial release.LISA STANSFIELD songs and albums | full Official Chart history

Did You Know?

A Breakout Hit

  • “All Around the World” was not just a hit, but it was a breakthrough for Lisa Stansfield. The song’s commercial success launched her into international stardom, securing her a place in music history.

Grammy Nomination

  • This unforgettable track earned Lisa Stansfield a Grammy nomination for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance, a testament to the sheer talent and emotion she poured into it.

Enduring Popularity

  • Despite being over three decades old, “All Around the World” remains a staple on radio stations and in popular culture, proving that great music stands the test of time.

A Global Sensation

  • True to its name, “All Around the World” topped charts not only in the UK but also in the United States, making Lisa Stansfield a global sensation.

Influence on Pop Music

  • This song is credited with bridging the gap between classic soul and modern pop, making it an influential force in shaping the music industry.

Lisa Stansfield: how we made All Around the World | Pop and rock | The Guardian

Video

Lyrics: All Around The World  

I don’t know where my baby is
But I’ll find him, somewhere, somehow
I’ve got to let him know how much I care
I’ll never give up looking for my babyBeen around the world and I, I, I
I can’t find my baby
I don’t know when, I don’t know why
Why he’s gone away
And I don’t know where he can be, my baby
But I’m gonna find him

We had a quarrel and I let myself go
I said so many things, things he didn’t know
And I was oh oh so bad
And I don’t think he’s comin’ back, mm mm

He gave the reason, the reasons he should go
And he said thing he hadn’t said before
And he was oh oh so mad
And I don’t think he’s comin’ back, comin’ back

I did too much lyin’
Wasted too much time
Now I’m here and cryin’, I, I, I

Been around the world and I, I, I
I can’t find my baby
I don’t know when, I don’t know why
Why he’s gone away
And I don’t know where he can be, my baby
But I’m gonna find him

So open hearted, he never did me wrong
I was the one, the weakest one of all
And now I’m oh oh so sad
I don’t think he’s comin’ back, comin’ back

I did too much lyin’
Wasted too much time
Now I’m here and cryin’, I, I, I

Been around the world and I, I, I
I can’t find my baby
I don’t know when, I don’t know why
Why he’s gone away
And I don’t know where he can be, my baby
But I’m gonna find him

Been around the world and I, I, I
I can’t find my baby
I don’t know when, I don’t know why
Why he’s gone away
And I don’t know where he can be, my baby
But I’m gonna find him

I’m going to find him, my baby

I did too much lyin’
Wasted too much time
Now I’m here and cryin’, I, I, I

Been around the world and I, I, I
I can’t find my baby
I don’t know when, I don’t know why
Why he’s gone away
And I don’t know where he can be, my baby
But I’m gonna find him

I’ve been around the world
Lookin’ for my baby
Been around the world
And I’m gonna, I’m gonna find him

Been around the world and I, I, I
I can’t find my baby
I don’t know when, I don’t know why
Why he’s gone away
And I don’t know where he can be, my baby
But I’m gonna find him

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The musicians at RCA Studio B were ready to make records. They were not ready for the way Elvis Presley entered the room. During his celebrated Nashville sessions in 1970, bassist Norbert Putnam remembered Elvis appearing in dramatic fashion—wearing a flowing black cape and carrying an ornate cane. Putnam later recalled the impression that it was almost as though “a prince had walked into the room.”

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Elvis Presley’s greatest musical gift was not putting words onto paper. It was hearing something inside a song that other people sometimes could not hear yet. Give him someone else’s melody and lyrics, and he could reshape the emotion through his phrasing, timing and voice until the recording felt intensely personal.

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The musicians at RCA Studio B were ready to make records. They were not ready for the way Elvis Presley entered the room. During his celebrated Nashville sessions in 1970, bassist Norbert Putnam remembered Elvis appearing in dramatic fashion—wearing a flowing black cape and carrying an ornate cane. Putnam later recalled the impression that it was almost as though “a prince had walked into the room.”

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Lisa Marie Presley grew up in a house visited by some of the most famous people in the world, yet the person who mattered most to her was the man everyone else called the King. To millions, Elvis Presley was an untouchable superstar. To Lisa, he was the father who loved to spoil her, make her laugh and turn ordinary moments at Graceland into childhood adventures.

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BOB DYLAN AND JOHNNY CASH SHATTERED THE WALLS OF NASHVILLE WITHOUT FIRING A SINGLE SHOT. Columbia Studio A sat thick with the smell of stale coffee and cigarette smoke on a February morning in 1969. While the rock world was chasing ghosts in psychedelic haze, Bob Dylan stepped into the epicenter of American country music with a voice that sounded like it had been dragged across gravel. He wasn’t there to challenge the gatekeepers at the Opry; he was there to find the heartbeat of a sound he had loved from afar. Johnny Cash walked through the heavy studio doors, guitar in hand, and for two days, the rigid borders of genre simply dissolved into the air. They didn’t record some grand manifesto to change the industry. Instead, they sat on stools and tore through old folk standards and each other’s deep cuts, letting the microphones capture the loose, unvarnished truth of a collaboration that felt more like a porch gathering than a major label session. Carl Perkins added his own licks to the mix, blending the percussive snap of rock and roll with the lonesome ache of a country ballad. It was a deliberate, quiet rebellion that treated the traditions of both worlds as neighbors rather than strangers. When the tape stopped rolling, they walked away having proved that the lines drawn by radio programmers were mostly make-believe. The Ryman Auditorium stage eventually welcomed a new kind of guest, and the air in Nashville felt lighter, forever changed by two men who knew that music didn’t need permission to belong everywhere at once.