In 1977, Agnetha Fältskog stood under the spotlight, the embodiment of grace and flawless pop harmony. She was the perfect pop star: elegant, serene, and adored by millions. But behind her golden smile was a woman who struggled with personal conflicts and deep dissatisfaction with the music industry around her. Despite her public image of calm and gentleness, Agnetha secretly carried a list—one of musicians she clashed with, distrusted, or outright disliked. After decades of silence, Agnetha finally revealed the names of the artists who had emotionally pushed her to her limits, shocking even the most seasoned music historians.
Agnetha’s list spans across various genres, from punk chaos to glam excess and rock egos, as well as provocative pop queens. One of the first names on her list is Mick Jagger, the iconic frontman of the Rolling Stones. While fans of Jagger admired his wild charisma, Agnetha saw him as a symbol of everything she detested about rock music: chaos, unpredictability, and egos that seemed larger than life. In a 1983 interview, Agnetha allegedly referred to him as “danger,” suggesting that Mick’s playful flirtation with her backstage in 1979 was uncomfortable for her. She later left the room in discomfort after he proposed a playful duet filled with sexual innuendo.
Another name that made Agnetha uneasy was David Bowie, a musical genius and avant-garde icon whose work she could not relate to. Though she admired Bowie’s talent, his unapologetic political, sexual, and experimental persona clashed with Agnetha’s values of privacy and modesty. Agnetha famously spent an evening at a European award show in 1976, sitting apart from Bowie, whose performances she described as “brilliant but cold.” She never truly warmed to him, feeling overwhelmed by his bold artistic expression and his public commentary on ABBA.
The punk movement, represented by Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols, further unsettled Agnetha. She remembered a time when graffiti in London read “ABBA sucks,” and the Sex Pistols mocked her band in an interview, calling them “plastic perfection for brain-dead housewives.” Agnetha was devastated by the attacks and found punk rock to be a terrifying rebellion against harmony. The tensions surrounding the Sex Pistols only worsened when ABBA performed in the same city on the same night as the punk band in 1978, leading to increased security for ABBA. Agnetha later described the era as “dark and exhausting.”
Frank Zappa, known for his critique of mainstream pop music, was also a figure Agnetha found difficult to admire. Zappa famously derided ABBA as “audio candy for the mentally sedated,” a comment that stung Agnetha deeply. She considered his music erratic, his humor crude, and his attitude dismissive of commercial acts like ABBA. Agnetha, who valued simplicity in music, expressed her dislike of Zappa’s experimental rock during an interview, subtly referencing his style as one that lacked the clarity and emotional connection she valued.
As the 1980s brought new musical figures to the scene, Madonna’s rise only served to further highlight the divide between Agnetha and the new generation of pop stars. While some saw Madonna as empowering, Agnetha found her style “vulgar” and overwhelming. Agnetha, who grew up with traditional Swedish values of modesty, was repelled by Madonna’s provocative performances, including the infamous “Like a Virgin” performance at the 1984 MTV Video Music Awards. Madonna’s bold, often scandalous persona was something Agnetha disapproved of deeply, feeling it crossed a line she never wanted to approach.
Further on Agnetha’s list was Freddie Mercury, the flamboyant frontman of Queen. Agnetha admired Queen’s musical precision, but she struggled with Freddie’s theatrical, larger-than-life persona. While Freddie’s energy was magnetic to some, Agnetha found it invasive and exhausting. She described Queen’s performances as “too grand for their own good” and was reportedly uncomfortable with Freddie’s stage presence, which she felt overshadowed her own more intimate, emotionally grounded performances.
Alice Cooper, known for his horror-inspired stage antics, was another figure Agnetha could not stomach. While Alice thrived on shocking audiences with snakes, guillotines, and simulated executions, Agnetha stood for grace, purity, and controlled emotion. When the two were scheduled to attend a music festival in Germany in 1975, Agnetha reportedly refused to sit next to him at the press panel, citing her discomfort with his disturbing theatrics.
Grace Jones, with her intimidating, androgynous persona, was another figure Agnetha found difficult to relate to. While Agnetha glided softly across the stage, enveloped in pastel lights and emotional sincerity, Grace exploded onto the scene with bold, angular fashion and a confrontational presence. Agnetha, who valued emotional honesty, saw Grace’s image as harsh and unapproachable, even hostile to the values she held dear.
Lastly, Iggy Pop, with his raw, chaotic energy, embodied everything Agnetha ran from. His unpredictable, often violent performances were the antithesis of what Agnetha believed music should be. Iggy’s infamous 1977 Detroit performance, where he smeared blood on himself in front of a roaring crowd, reportedly left Agnetha deeply disturbed. She once remarked, “I’m glad I never had to share a stage with that madness,” reflecting her belief in music that uplifts the soul rather than tearing it apart.
For decades, Agnetha kept her opinions quiet, allowing her music to speak for her. But now, with age and perspective, she has begun to let the world in on her private battles. These were not public feuds, but private storms, fought in the shadows of fame. Agnetha’s candidness about these musicians finally provides a glimpse into the emotional turmoil she experienced behind the scenes, shedding light on the complexities of her life beyond the public image of the serene pop icon.