He Needs His Fantasy and Freedom

Collaborating with AJ Rafael on the Chess classic “I Know Him So Well” allowed me to tell my favorite type of love story — one centering queer characters of color.

C.S.R. Calloway
5 min readFeb 13, 2023

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A still from the “I Know Him So Well” music video, animated by Studio Goblin.

“And though I move my world to be with him / Still the gap between us is too wide”

When I get ideas, they usually arrive fully formed. The songs I write come with lyrics and melodies (and harmonies) linked arm in arm. I created the outline to my award-winning series Pretty Dudes during one epic THC-induced oration. Conversely when I decided to cover the song “I Know Him So Well,” written by Tim Rice and ABBA’s Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus for the musical Chess, the ideas initially came in spurts.

First, the song was a duet, typically sang by two women (Elaine Paige and Barbara Dickson took the original to the top of the UK charts, the great Whitney Houston performed a melismatic cover version with her mother, and two of the Spice Girls — Sporty and Baby a.k.a. Melanie Chisholm and Emma Bunton — released the most recent charting version). I’d need my own complimentary vocal partner and the first person I thought of was my good friend AJ Rafael. Along with actor and poet Dante Basco (Hook, Avatar: The Last Airbender), AJ is one of the primary reasons I moved to Los Angeles and began focusing on my creative career. We had sung together at plenty of house gatherings, but never professionally. He’s a huge fan of stage musicals and a vocal LGBTQIA+ ally, so I was sure I could convince him.

A selfie of singers Chance Calloway and AJ Rafael. AJ is holding up a peace sign and both of the men are smiling.
Hanging out with AJ in the DTLA Arts District

There was no convincing required. AJ loves the original musical and was completely down to sing the track with me. I then reached out the the amazing G // Basco to produce it, telling him that we wanted to make the song feel like one of those 90s end-of-film-over-the-credits ballads, enabling me to live my Peabo Bryson/Michael Bolton fantasy. I hired guitarist Cory Clark to record a blistering post-bridge solo and was finally satisfied with we had created.

I decided to utilize the release to raise funds for The Trevor Project, thinking of my own experience as a queer youth with nowhere to turn. After seeing a tweet from drag queen Miss Malice, I decided to match the donation with a corresponding donation to a less-known charity. (I’ve made a list, but feel free to leave suggestions in the comments!) Despite being satisfied with the song, I felt something was missing. I co-produced several remixes, expressing separate vibes of romantic distress. (I try not to pick favorites, but according to my music library the “His Fantasy & Freedom Extended Mix” is my most played.) Still the expedition felt incomplete.

The song needed a music video.

Being a child of the 90s, I gravitated towards animation. With COVID still raging across the country, not only was it a safer option, but it was a way I could control the aesthetics and not compromise on the narrative I wanted to spin. Inspired by a hilarious first-listen reaction from one of my friends (which reads in part, “I FEEL LIKE IM SLOW DANCING BY MYSELF AT AN OLD PROM COS MY IN THE CLOSET BOYFRIEND CANT BE WITH ME”), I sketched out the story of two high schoolers who find love at the beach. Very Grease, with heavy sprinkles of everything from Madonna’s “Cherish” music video to many animated Disney films (off the top of my head: The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, 101 Dalmatians, The Lion King, and Paperman). The song is about heartbreak, but I didn’t want to make another queer love story prioritizing trauma. I wanted a universal heartbreak, even if this love was — like all love is — unique.

It was also important to me that the story centered queer Black characters and other queer characters of color. It was a simple thought: what’s a story that would have meant a lot to me as a Black, closeted teenager? What was a future I was unable to imagine and how would I present that here as a reality?

When I presented my ideas to Fraser and Luke from Studio Goblin, they got it. I mean, they got it. They were one hundred percent down with my ideas, even the ones that were more vibes than ideas. Jewel tones? No problem. A Greek chorus comprised of mermen? Absolutely. And beyond that, they made suggestions and added touches that I was still discovering long after the video was finished. It was Fraser and Luke who suggested the prom’s theme, and they also animated the surrounding silhouettes as chess pieces. It was as beautiful as I imagined, and in ways I never could have expected. Another important factor to me was that the characters had undeniably ethnic features, with wide noses, thick lips, and brown skin.

In a still from the animated music video “I Know Him So Well,” a suited Filipino teenager looks in dismay at his mother as she peeks into his bedroom.
A still from the “I Know Him So Well” music video, animated by Studio Goblin.

This was the first project I had ever made where my budget matched my vision. From the song, to the remixes, to the music video, I felt like I had expressed the truth of young love, of gay love, and (slight spoiler) of lost love. Too often queer love of all kinds is presented as hypersexual and lust-focused. While there is nothing wrong with gay sexual desires, I wanted to present a gay love story that centered on the love.

Grateful to AJ, G, Cory, and the wonderworkers at Studio Goblin for believing in my vision for this song and its video. Please listen to the song, which is streaming everywhere (as are the remixes). If you want to support me as I make more art that centers queer characters who are Black, disabled, and from other historically marginalized communities, subscribe to my Patreon.

A moving image showing an animated Black male teenager wearing a prom king crown and extending his hand to offer a dance.
The king is queer. Long live the king.

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C.S.R. Calloway

Storyteller prioritizing empathy and intersectional representation. chancecalloway.com