The Daily Mail's a rag, but in the interest keeping us all fully-informed ABBAMAILers, here goes:
Daily Mail, 18th May, 2004
ABBA-SOLUTELY FAB!
After 870 shows and 20,000 songs, a veteran star of the long-running Mamma Mia! provides a hilarious insight into ABBA's eternal appeal.
My relationship with ABBA seems to have gone on for ever. I was a 15 year old boy on that magical night when they burst into the national and international consciousness in the final of the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest.
In fact, I was living only a few hundred yards from the Brighton Dome where it took place, and watched the event on my parents' blank and white TV.
I knew instantly that something special was unfolding. The thunderous melody, the glittering Spandex, and the most unlikely opening lyric in the history of pop music... "My my, at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender...".
Was the conductor of the supporting orchestra wearing a hat like Napoleon's that night, or was that something I once dreamt? With ABBA, reality and myth are too closely entwined to be separated.
Now, in the aftermath of the appalling 2004 Eurovision Song Contest at the weekend, news that the album ABBA GOLD is celebrating its 467th week in the chart serves only to reinforce their legendary status.
Over the past 30 years the group that launched a thousand tribute bands has seen off punk, new wave, and umpteen other fads in popular music and yet they seem more popular than ever.
In another 11 weeks their album will overhaul Fleetwood Mac's Rumours as the longest running top seller - and who'd bet against it being up there in another three decades? With ABBA, nothing is impossible.
From my humble beginnings as a teenage fan, ABBA came to have a defining influence on my career.
A quarter of a century after that Eurovision triumph, and with plans for the ABBA tribute musical Mamma Mia! in full swing, I found myself in a converted laundry in the back streets of London's Soho auditioning for the leading male role of Sam Carmichael, a lovelorn architect.
All was going well until I began to sing. Sam's big number in the show is the classic Knowing Me, Knowing You, but when I continued with what I presumed to be the obligatory "ah-haaa" at the end of the phrase, all five members of the audition panel rose from their seats as if they'd been jolted by an electric cattle prod.
"You don't sing the "Ah-haaa"," cried the musical director in shocked tones. I felt as if I'd sworn in a cathedral. Continuing with the song, I promptly forgot my words and cracked on my top note. Not surprisingly, I didn't get the job.
A year later I was back in the laundry room (this time, minus the "ah-haaa") and I was offered the part of Sam. An hour or two after my opening show, I found myself at a fashionable London nightspot discussing my performance with - wait for it - Björn and Benny themselves.
One of the bonuses of being an actor is that occasionally you get to meet your heroes, and for me, on what was a memorable night anyway, it should have been the icing on the cake.
I did try. I made every attempt to engage in sophisticated chit-chat with these two gods of my youth, but I simply couldn't throw off a vision of myself as a rotund and clumsy teenager, miming to their greatest hits in front of the bedroom mirror and with my mum's hairbrush as a microphone.
During the next 12 months, I performed in Mamma Mia! 387 times (it would have been 388 had Westminster Council not drilled through the power cables one Friday evening while conducting essential road repairs in the street, throwing the entire theatre into darkness).
By the end of my first year, my personal statistics were nearly as impressive as those of the show. With seven outfits to wear, I estimated I'd changed costume 2.688 times.
Then, last year, I rejoined for another stint, and a couple of months ago chalked up my 870th - and for the moment - final show. Performing eight times a week is not for the faint-hearted, and the most commonly-asked question from friends visiting backstage is: "Don't you ever get sick of it?"
The answer, curiously, is "No". Mamma Mia! is a cultural phenomenon.
Just like ABBA's triumph of longevity in the charts, the worldwide appeal of this musical - there are 11 productions around the globe, and in London it has played to packed houses and won standing ovations every night for five years - comes as no surprise.
Audiences just can't get enough of its unique brand of high kitsch happiness, and it is now the most successful musical in the world, grossing more than £4.5 million a week.
The show, set on a Mediterranean island, tells the story of a trio of middle-aged men trying to come to terms with the consequences of their younger romantic escapades.
It somehow manages to shoehorn 23 of ABBA's greatest hits into a frenetic two and a half hours, at a rate of a song every six and a half minutes (only "Fernando" misses out in the production, and even that makes a fleeting appearance if you're quick-witted enough to catch it).
The success of the project has spawned a wave of other similarly constructed tribute shows; some good, some bad, all derivative, but none able to match Mamma Mia! for its enduring popularity - and of course, at its heart is the music of ABBA.
Last month I attended a gala performance to celebrate the fifth anniversary of Mamma Mia! and the 30th anniversary - to the very night - of ABBA winning the Eurovision Song Contest.
Three of the four group members were present, and everywhere I looked celebrities were worshipping at the shrine of Sweden's greatest export, from Dam Kiri Te Kanawa to Nicholas Parsons. Others, including battalions of the official ABBA fan club yelled "we love you" every time one of them spoke.
And, I too cheered in ecstasy as they took their bows.
Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson still look like their younger selves, while Frida Lyngstad, the smouldering brunette, now resembles a successful businesswoman or a minor member of the Swedish royalty - which in a way, she is. I sense that if only we all closed our eyes and wished hard enough, Agnetha Fältskog, the ultimate Swedish blonde and the missing piece of the jigsaw, would magically descend from the flies and complete the timeless quartet.
But she has proved stubbornly elusive at such events as these and lives as a recluse on a tiny island near Stockholm.
So what is the secret of ABBA's enduring appeal, and the reason their greatest hits compilation has been in the charts for so long?
Undoubtedly, one of the factors is that it gives those of us aged between 30 and 50 the chance to relive our adolescence. It allows us to dream again about what might have been. And then, of course, there's the music.
Ask any DJ in a nightclub what record is most likely to persuade people away from the bar and onto the dancefloor and "Dancing Queen" will almost certainly be the preferred choice.
Noel Coward once said: "Extraordinary how potent cheap music is..." But ABBA are much more than cheap music. They had a gift of providing heart-stopping and unforgettable melodies. Love them or hate them, ABBA have infiltrated our collective consciousness.
As I left the auditorium after the Mamma Mia! party, I was accosted by a member of the audience who announced with some pride that she tried to see the show at least once a month.
"Would you ever come back into it?" she asked as she offered me a Malteser.
The notion of performing ABBA songs for what would be a third year sent an initial shudder rolling up my spine. But then I had to admit that, if asked, I probably would.
After all this time, the magic of ABBA still holds me in its thrall. Or, to put it another way: "Waterloo - couldn't escape if I wanted to..."
Michael Simkins
Thanks to ABBAMAILer Sarah Marchant, Kent, England