When Kylie met Frida – how I introduced two pop divas

As ABBA return virtually to the stage next week, I've been reminiscing about the time I invited over two of my musical heroines to lunch...

So, what are your life highlights? Climbing Everest? Winning a marathon? Mine was introducing pop queen, Anni-Frid Lyngstad, to pop princess Kylie Minogue. Oh, to be in the presence of such musical royalty! All I could do was walk backwards in front of them, bowing and scraping like some lowly palace flunky. They spent the afternoon in my garden, laughing, gossiping and swapping concert mishap stories. There was even a little light harmonising.

The name ‘Kylie’ actually means ‘boomerang’ in the indigenous Noongar language. And that’s exactly what ABBA are currently doing – boomeranging back. The release of their new album and subsequent digital world tour melted the internet. The first flush of tickets were harder to find than a supermodel’s pantry (though it seems there’s still availability for later dates).

Why? Because ABBA are part of the world’s cultural DNA. Their deceptively simple, beautifully crafted music appeals to all ages, from toddler to teenager to toe-tapping octogenarian. Even rock legends loved them. Pete Townsend, John Lennon and Ray Davies all said that ABBA’s SOS is one of the greatest songs ever written.

The band as they will appear in ABBA Voyage, in digital form

But there was nothing malevolent about our musical mischief. Because, like everyone else in the world, we were ABBA addicts. The 1970s musical diet was one of heavy rock – Slade, AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Led Zeppelin. Heavy metal was like having your eardrums shredded on a cheese grater. Even worse was punk: bands with names like Satan’s Jism and Bowel Scum. After a steady diet of such stodge, ABBA was a palate-cleansing musical sorbet.

ABBA’s fashion sense was also deliciously tongue-in-chic. The outlandish snakeskin spacesuits and sequinned hot pants, designed by Frida, were so loud they could be deployed as distress flares in a boating accident. But what should have been classed as fashion faux pas didn’t exile the Swedish foursome to sartorial Siberia. No. We devoted fans simply followed suit. In photos from the time, I sport a bad perm (it looks as though I’d sutured my pubic hair to my cranium) and a frilly white jumpsuit so tight you can see the three-course raisin I ate for lunch.

Kathy in her ABBA tribute heyday

So, imagine the thrill of meeting my chanteuse idol. Deep Purple’s drummer Ian Paice had informed me that Frida didn’t like to talk about her pop past. Under strict instructions, I promised to keep my adoration in check and stay cool and calm. Well, that lasted all of, oh, 10 minutes. Seriously over-excited and emboldened by a few drinks, I suddenly found myself leaping up onto a chair to perform favourite ABBA hits for Frida’s entertainment. While Jon rolled his eyes and Ian sent for a straitjacket, I then confessed to my pop heroine all about my teenage tribute band and our musical mimicry. My muso mates were, by now, considering booking me in for an emergency voice box removal. But, luckily for me, Frida has a deliciously self-deprecating sense of humour, so chose to find my tipsy impersonation amusing. And we’ve been sharing jokes ever since.

When news of the virtual ABBA tour broke, I spoke to iconic, ironic Frida to offer congratulations on this innovative venture, in which the quartet perform onstage as holograms. “We Viking women get old too,” she replied with a laugh, “so the comfort of watching the world go by from your couch is terrific!” She also said that she hoped the music would “lift me up”.

Kylie performing in Berlin in 2018Credit: Getty

And isn’t that exactly what ABBA have always done? This fabulous foursome have never suffered from an irony deficiency. ABBA’s playful irreverence was the opposite of most 1970s male musos, who kept fit by doing step aerobics off their own egos. In ABBA, the women dominated. Most songs at the time were about male sexual longing. But – in Lay Your Love On Me, Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight) and Take A Chance on Me (with its split-screen video full of suggestive winking) – the women are sexually assertive, in a playful way.

The fact that the four ABBA members married each other gave the term ‘wedding band’ a very literal meaning. But, when their marriage vows turned into “How Do I Loathe Thee, Let Me Count The Ways”, how did Abba cope? They sang about the experiences, of course. The nuanced heartbreak of The Winner Takes It All and Knowing Me, Knowing You – where the accompanying video shows the girls walking off together into the snow – obviously proved so much cheaper than therapy.

And it’s exactly this emotive mix of happy-clappy pop meets Nordic noir that makes ABBA’s style unique. It’s the musical version of salted caramel – sweet and sour; tasty but tangy. ABBA’s lyrics, so often about love and loss, combine wit and grit; passion and pathos. Frida’s melting chocolate mezzo blending with Agnetha’s sparkling soprano creates a deliciously textured merging of melancholy and melody. And, after two years of pandemic and now Putin’s macho posturing, ABBA’s healing harmonies are just what the world needs.

ABBA in their pomp in 1974Credit: Getty

When Frida and Kylie met, it was a magical moment. I’d invited a delicious human menu for a casual summer lunch. I can’t cook (I use my smoke alarm as a timer) but am good at garnishing my gatherings with fun and fabulous people, from pop stars to poets to prime ministers. But I was even more excited than usual, because this was my opportunity to introduce pop star royalty, Frida and Kylie, as I knew they would instantly warm to each other – as they did.

What I cherish about both these friends is that, although dwelling in the stellar realms of stardom, they remain so gloriously grounded. Kylie will happily push back the furniture to give us girls some dance lessons, then stay late and pop on the marigolds to help with the cleaning up. And Frida likes nothing more than a pint at a local country pub with a lot of loud, irreverent laughter.

Frida has invited Kylie and me to her virtual ABBA concert at the custom-built arena at Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, London. Now all I need to do is dig out my sequinned flares, platform shoes and Nordic poncho. Although this time I’ve promised Frida that I won’t sing along.

Kathy Lette is the author of 15 novels, the latest of which is HRT: Husband Replacement Therapy (Penguin Random House). Download from books.telegraph.co.uk for £13.59