When ELO Turned Heartbreak Electric: Evil Woman Sparks a Classic – A Tale of Betrayal Set to a Groove That Stings and Soars
In October 1975, Electric Light Orchestra—better known as ELO—unleashed “Evil Woman” as the lead single from their album Face the Music, and it lit up the charts, peaking at number 10 on both the Billboard Hot 100 and the UK Singles Chart. Released on Jet Records, it was a gold-certified hit, shifting over a million copies worldwide, a testament to its irresistible pull. For those of us who were there—tuning in on a wood-paneled radio or dropping the needle on a fresh LP—it was a sound that crackled with energy, a fusion of rock and strings that danced through the autumn air. Now, in 2025, as I sit with the ghosts of those days, “Evil Woman” still hums with a restless magic, a bridge to a time when music could break your heart and make you move all at once.
The story behind “Evil Woman” is a quick twist of inspiration. Jeff Lynne, the mastermind of ELO, wrote it in a flash—some say 30 minutes—during the Face the Music sessions at Musicland Studios in Munich. The album was nearly done, but Lynne felt it needed a punch, a track to match the lush chaos of “Strange Magic”. Sitting at a piano, he riffed on a chord progression, and the words tumbled out—a scorned lover’s jab at a femme fatale who’d “made a fool of everyone.” Recorded with the band’s signature strings—Richard Tandy’s keys, Kelly Groucutt’s bass, Bev Bevan’s drums—it was a last-minute gem, polished by Lynne’s Beatles-esque knack and a chorus cribbed from an earlier ditty he’d shelved. Released as disco flickered and prog rock waned, it was ELO’s first big U.S. hit, proof they could straddle pop and pomp with flair.
The meaning of “Evil Woman” is a delicious mix of scorn and seduction—it’s a man waking up to a lover’s deceit, spitting venom while he’s still half under her spell. “You got a hole in your head where the rain comes in,” Lynne sneers, but that funky beat and those soaring violins betray a grin—he’s hurt, sure, but he’s grooving through it. For those of us who sang along in ’75, it was the sound of late-night drives with the windows down, of barstool rants about that one who got away, of a world where heartbreak didn’t mean you stopped dancing. It’s not a weepy ballad—it’s a strut, a kiss-off with a wink, the kind of song you’d belt after a breakup just to feel the sting turn sweet. That “evil woman” chant in the bridge? It’s a crowd rallying behind you, a middle finger to the one who did you wrong.
Electric Light Orchestra were sonic architects, and “Evil Woman” was their breakthrough—following “Can’t Get It Out of My Head” but outshining it, paving the way for A New World Record’s glory. It popped up everywhere—Soul Train performances, roller rink spins, even a 2011 Glee cover—but nothing tops the original’s bite. I remember it blasting from a friend’s eight-track, the way we’d mimic Lynne’s cool detachment, the thrill of a song that made betrayal sound like a party. For older souls now, it’s a snapshot of 1975—of flared slacks and shaggy hair, of a time when rock could be orchestral and raw, of nights when we laughed through the pain. “Evil Woman” is ELO at their peak—a jolt of electric heartache that still lights up the dark, as wicked and wonderful as ever.