It's the stuff of music legend.
A dazzling who's who of music assembled for a secret recording session, pulling a marathon all-nighter to make what would become the best-selling charity single ever.
We Are The World is arguably history's most star-studded collaboration; a pop culture phenomenon that's rippled, repeated and parodied through everything from The Simpsons and triple j to Gal Gadot's misguided 'Imagine' moment during COVID lockdown.
So, it's not for nothing that a new Netflix documentary chronicling its creation is titled The Greatest Night In Pop.
Directed by Boa Nguyen, it's a highly entertaining, often suspenseful watch. But the film's major selling point, as it was the night of 28 January 1985, is its sheer star power.
The sight of 46 of America's biggest musicians uniting under the supergroup banner of USA For Africa emains a surreal, awe-inspiring vision.
There's Michael Jackson, still riding the colossal success of Thriller in his full King of Pop regalia, rubbing shoulders with Bruce Springsteen and Diana Ross; Tina Turner duetting with Billy Joel.
Legends like Smokey Robinson, Bette Midler, and Fleetwood Mac's Lindsey Buckingham are relegated to a backing chorus line.
Upon surveying the improbable gathering at California's A&M Studios, Paul Simon (according to Kenny Loggins) deadpanned: "If a bomb lands on this place, John Denver's back on top."
That assembled star wattage evidently worked.
We Are The World was a blockbuster, raising more than $80 million in humanitarian aid for Ethiopians devastated by starvation, topping charts worldwide and becoming USA's first ever multi-Platinum selling single.
How it all came together
The thing is, the British had already done it a year earlier.
We Are The World was prompted by singer and activist Harry Belafonte's reaction to Do They Know It's Christmas? — the all-star 1984 Band Aid charity single featuring a cast of mostly British pop stars, which raised £8 million for Ethiopian famine relief.
"We have white folks saving Black folks and we don't have Black folks saving Black folks," Belafonte reportedly complained to high-powered music manager Ken Kragen.
Together, they set about drafting their own American version. And one of the doco's strengths is conveying the tension in co-ordinating the "logistical nightmare" of making that dream a reality with just one month's turnaround.
Lionel Richie, one of the prime narrators, recounts being tapped by Kragen and enlisting producer-arranger Quincy Jones, who in turn recruited Michael Jackson, who agreed to not only sing but co-write.
Meanwhile, Kragen hammered through his sizeable rolodex to sign on as many high-charting names as possible, with the plan to record following the American Music Awards — which Richie was hosting (and where he also scooped six wins).
The film mines great suspense in these sequences, from guaranteeing everyone's availability to keeping the top-secret recording location under wraps.
"If that shows up in the press, it could totally destroy the project," Kragen remarks. The moment [a] Michael Jackson or Bob Dylan drive up and see a mob? They will never come in."
Even once the limos begin arriving, they still had "one night only to get this right", remarks Richie, the de facto ringleader to the circus, who were greeted at the entrance with a sign reading "check your ego at the door."
A million juicy anecdotes
Revisiting the raw footage of the legendary session, The Greatest Night In Pop offers us a candid look at icons who rarely let us see beyond their heavily curated personas.
There's plenty of fascinating details, like Stevie Wonder helping Ray Charles to the men's room — 'blind leading the blind' onlookers joked — and Diana Ross asking for Daryl Hall's autograph, prompting every other A-lister to fan out and collect each other's signatures.
There's also the amusing footage of a befuddled Bob Dylan wondering what the hell he's signed up for.
Feeling out of his depth, Dylan was "more uncomfortable than any other person there" to record his lines, until Stevie Wonder kindly coached him via a playful impersonation of his froggy vocal stylings.
"It must be a dream," remarks Dylan in disbelief, smiling for the first time at the mic.
These tales have been chronicled before, but a great yarn is always worth re-visiting, and the doco contains new interviews with artists more than willing to line up and wax nostalgic about this "intoxicating" and "otherworldly" experience.
The biggest revelations come from Sheila E. who feels she was exploited, offered to sing a solo part that never materialised because she was unable to lure her collaborator and lover: Prince.
Considered the project's white whale (or, more fittingly, purple), with hopes he'd sing opposite his rival Michael Jackson, Prince instead offered to record a guitar solo by himself, which was nixed for flying in the face of the session's communal spirit. (A detail the doco omits: Prince contributed the song '4 The Tears In Your Eyes' to the We Are The World compilation album.)
The Greatest Night In Pop doesn't get to every single story
As the night progresses, things get a little messier: Engineers reckon with an increasingly tipsy Al Jarreau and freak out over a mysterious audio glitch that winds up being Cyndi Lauper's excessive jewellery — a moment that breaks the friction as the clock ticks towards 5am.
The doco does skip over some salacious events, like Dylan bringing Jarreau to tears after snubbing him, and Jackson hiding in the bathroom from a photoshoot with Time magazine.
Instead, the film is largely celebratory, leaning towards the reverence shared by Lionel Richie (also an executive producer on the film):
"On the night, we knew we'd done something that was going to live forever."
He's not wrong. Nearly 40 years on, even the hardest cynics who'd dismiss We Are The World as a schmaltzy, self-important ballad would struggle to argue against its lasting impact.
Revisiting that wild gathering of music royalty with this kind of access and context is essential music fan viewing.
The Greatest Night in Pop is streaming on Netflix now.