9 Phyllis Hyman Songs That Showcase Her Vocal Brilliance and Emotional Depth.

1. “You Know How to Love Me” 

Arguably her signature song, “You Know How to Love Me” was a disco-era triumph that showcased Phyllis Hyman’s vocal power while preserving her jazz roots. Produced by James Mtume and Reggie Lucas—who were also behind some of Stephanie Mills’ and Roberta Flack’s best work—the track rides a silky groove layered with strings, a thumping bass line, and a danceable beat. Hyman’s voice soars above it all, rich and commanding, demonstrating that she could dominate the dance floor while sounding like a seasoned jazz vocalist.

What sets this song apart is its sophisticated blend of pop accessibility and vocal virtuosity. Hyman’s phrasing isn’t just stylish—it’s intentional. She plays with tempo, elongates certain words, and weaves around the rhythm with precision, giving the song both warmth and elegance. Her ability to evoke passion without ever sounding overwrought is a masterclass in control. This wasn’t just music for the body—it was music for the heart and mind.

In terms of arrangement, the song straddles the line between disco and adult contemporary with remarkable finesse. The background vocals, shimmering strings, and funky undercurrent all complement her voice rather than compete with it. Even the lyrics, which could come off as saccharine in lesser hands, are elevated by her conviction. She delivers lines like “Don’t you know you’re a dream come true / Ain’t nothin’ deceivin’” with a tone that’s part invitation, part declaration. You believe her because she believes herself.

Even decades later, “You Know How to Love Me” continues to feel fresh and powerful. It’s a favorite in soul and R&B DJ sets, sampled in underground house tracks, and often included in retrospectives of great disco-era ballads. It works on the dancefloor, in a romantic dinner playlist, or even in a solo moment of joy. And for new listeners, it often serves as the perfect entry point into the deep, soulful world of Phyllis Hyman—a place where sophistication and sensuality live side by side.

2. “Living All Alone” 

If there’s a definitive Phyllis Hyman ballad, “Living All Alone” might be it. This song cuts deep into the isolation and longing that follows heartbreak, and it’s delivered with such conviction that you can feel every beat of her weary heart. Produced by the legendary Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff, the track is lush, moody, and piano-heavy, leaning into quiet storm territory with confidence. The first line—“There used to be time in my life when we were lovers / And we shared this apartment together, just us two”—sets the tone for a brutally honest, emotionally naked journey.

What makes Hyman’s performance unforgettable is how lived-in it feels. There’s no theatricality, no unnecessary vocal flourishes. Instead, she draws you in with nuance and shading. Her voice trembles with quiet strength, rising only when the emotion demands it. It’s as if we’re listening to someone narrate their diary—except that diary has been scored with one of the most hauntingly elegant melodies of the 1980s.

The song’s instrumentation mirrors her emotional state: sparse and aching in the verses, fuller and more defiant in the chorus. Each piano note feels deliberate, each string section swells at just the right moment. There’s a feeling of deep, private reckoning throughout the track. It’s a slow burn, the kind of song you don’t just hear once—you live with it for years. And each time you return, it means something slightly different, depending on where you are in life.

In today’s cultural climate—where open discussions around mental health and emotional wellness are more prevalent—“Living All Alone” hits even harder. It doesn’t glamorize sadness; it dignifies it. The track offers space for healing through reflection. And in Phyllis Hyman’s delivery, we don’t just hear despair—we hear the refusal to let despair define her. That strength, buried in the vulnerability, is what makes this song endure long past its release date.

3. “Old Friend” 

“Old Friend” is the kind of song that slips into your soul and stays there. Written by the late Linda Creed—who also penned classics for The Stylistics and Spinners—it is a ballad of quiet loss and unresolved longing. But this isn’t the pain of a romantic breakup; it’s more intimate and layered. The lyrics feel like a whispered letter to someone who drifted away, not with drama, but with time and silence. It’s a subtle kind of heartbreak, and Phyllis Hyman delivers it with such gentle authenticity that it becomes almost meditative.

Musically, “Old Friend” is bare-boned in the best way. The arrangement leans heavily on a soft piano line, with light orchestration that never dares to overshadow her. It’s almost hymn-like in structure—spare, sacred, still. Hyman doesn’t sing to impress; she sings to connect. Her voice wraps around each syllable with a kind of emotional intelligence that transcends the written lyric.

The track is often played at memorial services and life retrospectives, and it’s easy to understand why. “Old Friend” doesn’t force tears—it earns them. The line “There used to be time in my life when we were lovers / And we shared this apartment together, just us two” lands with quiet devastation, evoking nostalgia for moments we may not even remember clearly but still feel deeply. The song’s power lies in its simplicity. No vocal gymnastics. No melodrama. Just truth, elegantly conveyed.

In today’s fast-paced world, “Old Friend” serves as a musical pause button. It’s a reminder to reach out, to remember, to grieve gently. The emotional space it creates allows listeners to reconnect with their own memories, both joyful and painful. Hyman’s performance becomes a vessel through which we mourn, reflect, and—hopefully—find peace. It’s one of the finest examples of how music can humanize our most complex emotions.

4. “Betcha By Golly Wow”

Originally made famous by The Stylistics in 1972, “Betcha By Golly Wow” gets a stunning transformation in the hands of Phyllis Hyman. While the original featured Russell Thompkins Jr.’s sweet falsetto and soft Philly soul instrumentation, Hyman reinterprets the track through a slower, more mature lens. Her version is not about teenage romance—it’s about grown-up devotion, the kind that comes with both tenderness and time.

Hyman’s vocal on this track is velvet-draped sophistication. She resists the urge to oversing, choosing instead to allow each word to resonate with quiet confidence. The phrasing is immaculate; she stretches the word “wow” into a floating sigh, turning it into an exhale of gratitude rather than a squeal of infatuation. This is not a woman surprised by love—this is a woman who honors its presence with reverence.

The orchestration is rich but restrained. Warm horns, soft piano strokes, and gentle percussion provide a soundscape that feels both classic and timeless. What really makes Hyman’s rendition shine is how she shifts the emotional center of the song. Where The Stylistics gave us puppy love in full bloom, Hyman gives us a love that’s survived storms and still stands.

Listening to this version in the present day feels like opening a time capsule wrapped in velvet. It’s ideal for intimate moments, jazz-inflected playlists, or simply as a reminder that reinterpretation can be as valuable as invention. Phyllis Hyman doesn’t cover “Betcha By Golly Wow”—she curates it. She sifts through its sugary surface to find its mature core, offering us not just a song, but a conversation with love itself.

5. “Be One” 

“Be One” is Phyllis Hyman at her most socially conscious. Amidst a catalog dominated by themes of romantic love and heartbreak, this track stands out as a universal call to healing—both personal and collective. The lyrics urge listeners to unite in a world often divided by pain, misunderstanding, and apathy. While it may not have received the commercial spotlight it deserved, it remains one of the most emotionally urgent songs of her career.

From the very first bars, there’s an energy in the production that signals this is more than a love song—it’s a movement anthem. The arrangement feels influenced by gospel and R&B, featuring choir-like backing vocals, hand claps, and a sweeping melody that lifts the words to sermon-like heights. When Hyman sings, “Should I go on and try / Or forget it / Life is short,” the sense of warning is palpable. It’s not a suggestion—it’s a demand that carries weight.

Vocally, Hyman channels a kind of righteous fire that’s rare in her recordings. There’s urgency in her tone, but also compassion. She isn’t pointing fingers—she’s holding out a hand. That dynamic, that balance between moral clarity and emotional grace, is what elevates the song beyond mere messaging. She brings humanity to every syllable, reinforcing that change starts within each of us.

Today, “Be One” feels like it was written for our times. Whether you view it through the lens of political polarization, systemic injustice, or fractured relationships, the message is the same: healing can’t happen without connection. And few artists could deliver such a message with the combination of gravitas and warmth that Phyllis Hyman possessed. “Be One” isn’t just a song—it’s a blueprint for a better world.

6. “Somewhere in My Lifetime” 

“Somewhere in My Lifetime” is a masterclass in dramatic balladry, one that walks the tightrope between hope and heartbreak. Originally penned by Barry Manilow and Ron Dante, the song was given new emotional depth through Hyman’s powerful interpretation. Where Manilow’s version is sweeping but theatrical, Hyman transforms it into a deeply personal journey—one that resonates with anyone who’s dared to dream of love but hasn’t quite found it yet.

The instrumentation is grand in scope—strings swell, piano chords crash, and crescendos arrive like emotional waves. But Hyman’s voice remains the constant, the eye of the storm. Her vocals start soft and contemplative, slowly building to a heart-wrenching climax that never crosses into melodrama. It’s a controlled burn of longing, delivered with the poise of someone who has learned to hope while guarding their heart.

What makes this song timeless is its portrayal of the kind of yearning that doesn’t fade with age. It’s not about teenage fantasy—it’s about adult faith. The belief that somewhere, someone is waiting, and the love you were meant for still lingers on the horizon. Hyman sings those emotions not as a wide-eyed girl but as a woman who’s been through life’s trials and still dares to believe.

In a world now flooded with instant gratification and swipe-right romance, “Somewhere in My Lifetime” is a reminder that some things are worth waiting for. It teaches us that patience, self-worth, and faith are part of the journey. And with Hyman at the helm, that journey feels sacred. Her performance doesn’t just fill a room—it fills the soul.

7. “When I Give My Love (This Time)” 

“When I Give My Love (This Time)” is Phyllis Hyman in full command of her emotional and artistic power. Gone is the wide-eyed vulnerability of her earlier love ballads. In its place stands a woman who has learned from love’s triumphs and traumas—and who refuses to repeat the same mistakes. The song is a declaration of standards, boundaries, and intention wrapped in silky ‘90s production.

Sonically, this track fits comfortably within the adult contemporary R&B landscape of the early ‘90s. The beat is relaxed, the synths are polished, and there’s a plush, romantic groove that’s easy to fall into. But beneath that sheen lies something tougher—Hyman’s resolve. Her voice is warm but steely, imbued with the wisdom of someone who’s given her all before and paid the price for it.

The lyrics are mature and grounded. “When I give my love this time, it’s gonna be forever,” she sings—not as a plea, but as a vow. There’s no desperation here. Instead, there’s agency. She’s not waiting to be chosen—she’s choosing. It’s a powerful shift in narrative for a female balladeer, especially in a genre that often celebrates sacrifice in the name of love.

This song holds up remarkably well in modern contexts. It would sound right at home next to the likes of Anita Baker, Lalah Hathaway, or Jill Scott—women who also explore the intersections of romance, self-respect, and emotional maturity. “When I Give My Love (This Time)” isn’t about falling in love—it’s about rising into it. And that elevation is what makes it unforgettable.