“WORST CHOICE I’VE MADE”: Benny Andersson Finally Admits Why ABBA Refused to Reunite

Stop the presses, hide your sequins, and prepare to clutch your glitter-covered chest, because the disco gods have finally decided to give us a confession we didn’t know we needed: Benny Andersson, the bearded keyboard wizard of ABBA, has just declared that refusing to reunite with the Swedish supergroup for over four decades was the “worst choice of his life. ”

Yes, you heard that right—this is not a drill.

After 45 years of staying silent while the rest of us sang “Dancing Queen” at weddings, karaoke bars, and questionable karaoke bars in bowling alleys, Benny has finally admitted that maybe, just maybe, telling the world “no thanks” to a reunion was not his brightest idea.

Somewhere, Agnetha is rolling her eyes, Björn is writing another concept musical about existential regret, and every ABBA tribute band in the Midwest is preparing to sue for emotional damages.

 

For context (because not everyone grew up with bell bottoms and a family that owned the Gold: Greatest Hits CD), ABBA was the Swedish pop group that made the 1970s tolerable.

They were kitsch, they were catchy, and they were so sparkly that even Elton John probably thought, “tone it down. ”

Hits like “Mamma Mia,” “Fernando,” and “Waterloo” didn’t just dominate charts; they built an empire of feather boas and platform boots that fueled disco fever.

And then—poof—they were gone.

No dramatic farewell tour.

No final tear-soaked concert.

Just a band breakup that was colder than a Stockholm winter.

Fans begged for a reunion for decades, but ABBA consistently said no, like four stubborn parents refusing to buy their kids a puppy.

So why did Benny hold out for so long? Was it artistic integrity? Deep personal wounds? A phobia of sequins? According to fake ABBA scholar Dr. Ulrika Glitterström, “Benny believed that reuniting ABBA would be like reheating Swedish meatballs—they taste fine, but they’re never the same as the first time. ”

Admirable in theory, but let’s be real: Benny also made millions off royalties, so turning down a reunion probably didn’t exactly mean he was weeping into instant noodles.

Still, it turns out even a man with more money than IKEA has flat-packs can regret a decision, and now, 45 years later, he’s admitting he may have missed out on the glitter-soaked payday of a lifetime.

The irony is delicious.

While Benny was busy refusing to reunite, ABBA’s music refused to die.

 

From Mamma Mia! the musical to Mamma Mia! the movie to Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (a title that sounded less like a sequel and more like a threat), ABBA became more immortal than ever.

Millennials who weren’t even born during the disco era sobbed over Pierce Brosnan’s attempt at singing.

Gen Z now does TikTok dances to “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” The world moved on without a reunion, and ABBA’s legacy only grew bigger.

As fake industry insider Gloria Gossipini puts it, “Benny could’ve cashed in years ago, but instead he left us with Cher covering ABBA songs.

That alone is a crime against humanity.

”

Of course, let’s not forget the juicy personal drama that made an ABBA reunion about as likely as the Bee Gees reforming with holograms.

ABBA wasn’t just a band—it was two married couples who decided to go through divorces and still work together.

Imagine writing songs about heartbreak while your ex is singing them five feet away in sequined spandex.

Agnetha and Björn divorced in 1980, Benny and Frida followed in 1981, and the group limped along until it finally disbanded in 1982.

In other words, the last years of ABBA were essentially one long Swedish soap opera soundtracked by power ballads.

Benny insisting they not reunite was probably less about the art and more about not wanting to get side-eyed by his exes while singing “Take a Chance on Me. ”

But now, at 78, Benny’s tune has changed.

(Pun fully intended. )

He admits that shutting down the idea of ABBA reunions was not just a choice but “the worst choice” of his life.

Translation: even global legends suffer from FOMO.

While fans danced in their kitchens and Broadway theaters to his songs, Benny sat there in silence, probably staring into a mirror thinking, “Why did I not ride this sequined gravy train into retirement with ten more yachts?” Fake financial advisor Sven Krona claims, “Had ABBA reunited even once in the ’90s, they’d each be worth double what they are today.

Benny basically left billions on the stage floor. ”

Naturally, this confession has sparked hysteria.

Fans are screaming “too little too late,” critics are sharpening their glitter pens, and diehard stans are demanding at least one more comeback tour—walker-friendly choreography included.

 

Twitter (or “X,” as Elon Musk insists we call it) exploded with memes of Benny photoshopped into “Dancing Queen” outfits with the caption “regret looks good on you.

” Meanwhile, tribute bands are furious.

One anonymous “ABBA-solutely” impersonator told us, “If the real ABBA had reunited earlier, people wouldn’t have been paying us $10 a ticket to perform at county fairs.

We’d be out of work, but at least the fans would’ve been happy. ”

And yet, the confession also humanizes Benny.

Because who among us hasn’t made a choice in our youth that we regret decades later? For some, it’s marrying the wrong person.

For others, it’s that lower back tattoo that says “YOLO. ”

For Benny Andersson, it’s refusing to reunite one of the most beloved bands in history.

Some might say it’s noble, an artist protecting the purity of his work.

Others might say it’s petty, a grudge disguised as integrity.

But for tabloids like us, it’s gold.

“A regret this juicy is better than a new ABBA song,” cackled fake gossip columnist Veronica Sequins.

The real kicker? ABBA did technically reunite in 2021 with the release of their album Voyage and their bizarre hologram “ABBAtar” tour, where CGI versions of their younger selves performed for audiences like a dystopian fever dream.

It was a hit, but Benny’s latest comment proves he knows deep down it wasn’t the same.

Fans wanted the real sequins, the real drama, the real awkward tension between ex-spouses sharing a stage.

Instead, we got digital puppets.

Cool, yes, but not exactly history-correct.

Benny’s regret seems to be that they could’ve had the genuine comeback moment decades earlier, back when spandex didn’t require orthopedic support.

So what now? Does Benny’s confession open the door for a final, real ABBA reunion?

 

Will we see octogenarian Swedes shimmying under disco balls one last time? Or is this just the universe’s cruel reminder that even legends aren’t immune to hindsight? Either way, Benny’s honesty is the kind of delicious late-life twist that keeps the ABBA myth alive.

He might call it the worst choice of his life, but for fans and gossip lovers everywhere, it’s the best headline in years.

Because let’s face it: ABBA was never just about music.

It was about drama, love, betrayal, heartbreak, and more sequins than a drag queen convention.

Their refusal to reunite kept the mystique alive, but Benny’s confession proves that mystique comes with a side of regret.

And honestly, that makes the story even better.

After all, nothing says “true pop legend” like admitting your greatest mistake involves disco balls, divorce, and the missed opportunity to make billions while singing “Voulez-Vous” for the millionth time.

In the end, Benny Andersson’s legacy remains untouchable.

ABBA’s music will outlive us all, playing on wedding dance floors long after we’re gone.

His confession doesn’t tarnish the brand; it enhances it.

ABBA was always about human emotions dressed in glitter, and regret is just the final note in their long symphony of drama.

Or as fake philosopher DJ Discofritz puts it, “Regret is the most ABBA emotion of all—bittersweet, melodic, and best sung in four-part harmony. ”

So yes, Benny, refusing to reunite may have been the worst choice of your life.

But for us, your fans, your critics, and your nosy gossip reporters, it was the best choice of ours.

Because it gave us the drama we crave, the headlines we worship, and the reminder that even pop gods are still human under all that spandex.