At 70, Elvis Costello Finally Opens Up About Agnetha Fältskog

For decades, Elvis Costello has cultivated a reputation as one of the sharpest songwriters of his generation: literate, restless, and always slightly aloof. Now, at 70, the iconic British musician has offered an unexpected glimpse into a long-guarded chapter of his past—his quiet admiration, and perhaps more, for ABBA’s Agnetha Fältskog.

A Hidden Chapter

Costello has never been one for celebrity gossip. Throughout his career, he resisted the lure of sensationalism and rarely spoke about his private encounters with other artists. Yet during a recent sit-down interview in London, he seemed eager to share a story that had been locked away for half a lifetime.

“I was in Stockholm in the late seventies,” Costello began, adjusting his glasses as if to brace himself against memory. “Everyone in the world knew ABBA at that point. They were untouchable, larger than life. But what struck me wasn’t the glitter or the sequins—it was Agnetha’s voice. There was a clarity, a loneliness even, that I could hear beneath the pop arrangements.”

It was the kind of revelation that caught his interviewer off guard. Few had ever connected the gritty, biting wit of Elvis Costello with the polished perfection of Sweden’s greatest export. Yet, as he spoke, the bridge between their worlds suddenly seemed plausible.

Crossing Paths

Costello recalled a brief meeting at a studio in Stockholm in 1979. At the time, he was touring Europe relentlessly, while ABBA was scaling unimaginable heights of fame. The encounter was fleeting—just a few words exchanged in a crowded hallway.

“She smiled, and it wasn’t the kind of smile you give for cameras,” he said. “It was real, and shy, and it told me she carried a weight that no chart-topping single could ever erase. I remember thinking, this is someone who understands the solitude that comes with applause.”

According to Costello, the two never pursued a deeper friendship, but the impression lingered. He admits that some of his songwriting in the early eighties carried echoes of that brief moment—songs tinged with both admiration and melancholy.

Admiration From Afar

At the height of his own success, Costello’s music bore little resemblance to ABBA’s meticulously crafted pop. Still, he confessed to following Agnetha’s career from afar, especially her first solo steps after ABBA disbanded.

“I’d buy her records quietly,” he admitted with a laugh. “I never told my mates because they’d have teased me to no end. But there was a bravery in her voice, even when the production was drenched in sugar. She was singing to be heard as herself, not just as a quarter of something monumental.”

Asked whether he ever wrote directly about her, Costello was cautious. “I think songwriters are always thieving from life,” he said. “But sometimes it’s not about a person, it’s about the idea of them. Agnetha represented a kind of longing to me—an image of freedom tangled with loneliness. Whether she ever knew that, I couldn’t say.”

The Weight of Silence

Why wait until now to share this story? Costello’s answer was simple: time. At seventy, he feels less tethered to the machinery of reputation. “When you’re younger, you guard yourself. You don’t want to be misunderstood. But at my age, you realize that the truth—whatever small truth you have to offer—is the only currency worth spending.”

For her part, Agnetha Fältskog has often spoken about her desire for privacy. Known as the “reclusive ABBA member,” she withdrew from the spotlight for long stretches after the group’s split. Costello is acutely aware of this. “I don’t mean to intrude on her story,” he emphasized. “I only want to acknowledge what she gave me, even unknowingly: a sense that vulnerability could be as powerful as bravado.”

Looking Back, Looking Forward

The confession has sparked quiet ripples among fans, who are now re-listening to Costello’s early work with fresh ears, searching for hidden references. Songs like “Shipbuilding” and “Alison” suddenly feel colored by a Scandinavian hue, though Costello himself refuses to draw direct lines.

What he does make clear is the value of honesty late in life. “We spend so much of our youth trying to appear invincible,” he reflected. “But the artists who move us—Agnetha among them—are the ones who dare to sound breakable.”

As he approaches the twilight of a storied career, Costello is preparing a new collection of songs, and he admits that this rediscovery of his past influences will leave its mark. “I don’t know if she’ll ever hear it, but maybe there will be a song in there that tips a hat to that moment in Stockholm. It’s the least I can do.”

A Quiet Tribute

Ultimately, Costello’s revelation is less about scandal and more about gratitude. At seventy, he has nothing to prove and no need for embellishment. His words carry the weight of a man who has written through decades of change yet never stopped listening to the voices that first inspired him.

“I think we all carry secret harmonies inside us,” he mused in closing. “For me, one of them has always been Agnetha’s. And after fifty years, it feels good to finally say that out loud.”