Abba & Me: A Love Story
As Abba venture into the 21st century with their new release Voyage, Ute Junker recalls with affection her nerdy fangirl obsession with the Swedish super group.
How many things have you loved consistently since primary school? I can think of just a handful of pleasures that have lasted the distance. The delight of getting lost in a great book. The thrill of plunging into the cool ocean on a hot day. And, of course, the music of Abba. I was at primary school when the first wave of Abba broke, which made me the perfect age to get caught in the surge. It wasn’t just the catchy songs – three-minute hits of pop perfection that were somehow joyous even when they were sad – that hooked me in; it was the glamour of the band.
Agnetha and Frida quickly bumped my earlier idols, Morticia Addams and Cat Woman, off their prime perch. I loved them not just for their singing and their star power, but also for their clever costuming, which were unlike anything my young mind had previously been exposed to. (Remember those cat dresses, when they ripped off the long skirts to reveal the short tunics underneath?)
I threw myself into Abba. I loved the merchandise – I particularly treasured my long Abba socks and a denim bag decorated with an Abba transfer supplied by Family Circle magazine. I didn’t just sing along with the songs, I read everything I could about the band – even the liner notes on their albums.
Like many love affairs do, the relationship slowly waned. Over the years, their music got moodier and their lyrics too mature for a not-quite-teenager to relate to. I was already widening my musical scope, getting excited by artists such as Prince and New Order, The Cure and The Violent Femmes.
It was meeting Patrick in the first year of uni that brought Abba back into my life. He quickly became one of my closest friends, a bond that was cemented when I spied a copy of Abba’s disco-inflected album, Voulez-Vous, in his vinyl collection. Patrick turned out to be as much of an Abba nerd as I was; he even remembered the name of the drummer who played on their albums. (It was Ola Brunkert, and in the sleeve notes the band had promised, “One day we’re gonna let you hear him sing.” We waited in vain.)
Listening to the albums afresh, I realised that despite their reputation for perfect pop, one of Abba’s greatest strengths was their ability to capture heartbreak in both lyrics and music, a skill that came into focus as first Agnetha and Bjorn, then Frida and Benny, divorced.
It’s a talent that was on show as far back as Knowing Me, Knowing You, written while both couples were still together. It is displayed most famously in The Winner Takes It All, in which Agnetha gives a knockout performance of the devastating lyrics written by her estranged husband. The song became their break-up song, just as When All Is Said and Done, an underrated song off Abba’s final album, became Frida and Benny’s song – a more restrained but still regretful farewell.
As it happened, the rest of the world wasn’t far behind Patrick and I in rediscovering Abba. In the mid ’90s, the movies Muriel’s Wedding and Priscilla Queen of the Desert – both of which featured characters slavishly devoted to Abba - kicked off the Abba revival (version 1.0).
Suddenly Abba was everywhere, giving me the opportunity to rediscover another key element of the band – their videos. (Fun fact: most of the videos were shot by Swedish director Lasse Hallström, who also directed Abba The Movie – filmed on their Australian tour – before scoring Academy Award nominations for My Life as a Dog and The Cider House Rules.)
It didn’t stop there, of course. Abba revival 1.0 led to the creation of Mamma Mia The Musical, which kicked off Abba revival 2.0. Now Abba is about to release their first studio album in 40 years, Voyage, on Friday, and from next year, the band’s digital avatars will perform at a purpose-built theatre in London for three years. Abba revival 3.0 has arrived.
I don’t see myself rushing out to buy the album; their back catalogue is more than enough. What has been exciting, however, is tuning in to interviews with the various members, a process that feels oddly like catching up with old friends.
Forty-odd years ago, meeting Abba would have been top of my dare-to-dream list. To my own surprise, I find I’d still kill for the opportunity to sit down with one of them over a drink and try to winkle a few secrets out of them. (Preferably Frida, who always came across as the fun one of the bunch.) I can’t see that happening any time soon, but at least we will always have the music.