In the glittering history of pop music, few voices are as instantly recognizable as Agnetha Fältskog’s. As one-fourth of ABBA, her crystalline tone carried some of the most beloved melodies ever recorded — from the aching vulnerability of The Winner Takes It All to the radiant lift of Dancing Queen. For decades, fans and critics alike have placed her among the greatest vocalists of the 20th century.
And yet, in a rare moment of humility and reflection, Agnetha has opened up about the singers who moved her — the voices she turned to in quiet hours, far from stadium lights and screaming crowds. Even more surprising, she has admitted that in her heart, there is “one singer” she feels truly stands above the rest.
This isn’t about competition. It’s about connection. About music as refuge, medicine, and memory.
A Voice That Understood the Silence: Karen Carpenter
If there is one name most closely tied to Agnetha’s emotional world, it is Karen Carpenter.
Both women possessed voices of extraordinary purity — technically flawless, yet filled with unspoken emotion. Karen’s contralto carried a softness that felt almost fragile, yet it could stop listeners in their tracks. For Agnetha, hearing Superstar or Rainy Days and Mondays wasn’t just a musical experience; it was a moment of recognition.
Karen sang the kind of loneliness that doesn’t need explanation. The quiet kind. The kind that lingers after applause fades and hotel room doors close. Agnetha has often gravitated toward introspective ballads herself, and it’s easy to hear the shared emotional DNA between the two singers.
In many ways, Karen Carpenter represented the gold standard of heartfelt restraint — proof that power doesn’t have to be loud to be unforgettable.
The Poet of Melancholy: Paul Simon
Where Karen offered emotional resonance, Paul Simon offered lyrical understanding.
Simon’s songwriting — delicate, observant, and deeply human — has long resonated with Agnetha’s own reflective nature. Songs like Bridge Over Troubled Water and Still Crazy After All These Years don’t just tell stories; they hold space for complicated feelings. Regret. Longing. Quiet hope.
For a performer who spent years being viewed as one-half of ABBA’s golden couple, then navigating life after the spotlight dimmed, Simon’s thoughtful, inward-looking artistry felt like a mirror.
His music reminds listeners that vulnerability is not weakness — it’s wisdom earned through living.
The Fire and the Fearlessness: Freddie Mercury
If Simon was introspection, Freddie Mercury was ignition.
Freddie’s voice was a force of nature — theatrical, explosive, and utterly fearless. For Agnetha, watching Mercury perform was a lesson in liberation. He didn’t hide behind his music; he became it.
While Agnetha’s own stage presence was often more reserved, she has spoken admiringly of artists who embraced boldness. Mercury embodied artistic freedom — the courage to be extravagant, emotional, dramatic, and tender all at once.
He proved that a ballad could be just as powerful as a rock anthem, and that vulnerability and grandeur could coexist on the same stage.
Joni Mitchell: Where Fragility Becomes Strength
Joni Mitchell’s Blue has long been described as one of the most emotionally honest albums ever recorded. For Agnetha, it became something closer to a companion.
Mitchell didn’t polish her emotions for comfort. She let them remain raw, complex, and sometimes unresolved. Songs like A Case of You and River feel like pages torn from a private diary — and that honesty is exactly what made them universal.
Agnetha, whose own life included intense fame, public scrutiny, and deeply personal heartbreak, found solace in Joni’s willingness to be unguarded. Mitchell showed that fragility is not something to conceal — it’s something that can make art timeless.
The Comfort of James Taylor
Every great emotional journey needs balance, and for Agnetha, James Taylor provided it.
His voice carries warmth like candlelight on a winter evening. Gentle, reassuring, and steady. Songs such as Fire and Rain and You’ve Got a Friend offer the kind of comfort that feels like being understood without having to explain yourself.
Taylor’s music doesn’t overwhelm; it embraces. For someone who spent years navigating both adoration and isolation, that kind of steadiness mattered. His songs remind listeners that even in sadness, there is companionship.
Annie Lennox and the Sound of Freedom
Then there is Annie Lennox — bold, commanding, transformative.
Where Karen Carpenter embodied quiet vulnerability, Lennox represents reinvention and strength. Her voice can be hauntingly soft one moment and thunderous the next. She doesn’t just perform songs; she inhabits them completely.
For Agnetha, watching Lennox was like witnessing artistic fearlessness in motion — a woman fully in control of her image, sound, and message. Lennox’s presence helped redefine what female power could look like in pop music: intelligent, expressive, and unapologetically individual.
So… Who Is “Better”?
When Agnetha suggests that there is one singer she considers “better” than herself, it’s not about vocal gymnastics or chart records. It’s about emotional truth.
If you trace the threads through all the artists she admires, one name rises naturally to the surface: Karen Carpenter.
Karen’s voice had a stillness that felt almost sacred. No excess. No showmanship. Just pure feeling carried on flawless tone. For Agnetha — a singer known for conveying heartbreak with breathtaking clarity — that level of emotional transparency represents the pinnacle of vocal artistry.
It’s not self-diminishment. It’s reverence.
Music as Survival, Not Just Sound
What makes this reflection so powerful is what it reveals about Agnetha herself. Behind the polished pop legacy is an artist who turned to other voices not for inspiration alone, but for healing.
These weren’t just favorite singers. They were companions through loneliness, guides through emotional storms, reminders that even global superstars are still human beings with quiet fears and private hopes.
Through Karen’s softness, Paul’s poetry, Freddie’s fire, Joni’s honesty, James’s warmth, and Annie’s strength, Agnetha found pieces of herself reflected back to her.
And perhaps that’s the real story here.
Not who sang “better.”
But how music — in the right voice, at the right moment — can help someone breathe again.