At 78, Linda Ronstadt Names The Seven Musicians She Hated -She was the voice that could silence a stadium, the queen of genre-bending brilliance. But behind the spotlight, Linda Ronstadt harbored a list of betrayals that cut deeper than any lyric she ever sang. In this video, we look into the seven musicians who crossed paths with Ronstadt in ways that left lasting scars. From backstage betrayals to public humiliations, these stories reveal the untold tensions in the world of rock and roll

I always say that I never sang any style of music that I hadn’t heard in my household growing up.

I can’t approach it with any kind of authenticity.

She was the voice that could silence a stadium.

The queen of genre bending brilliance.

But behind the spotlight, Linda Ronstad harbored a list of betrayals that cut deeper than any lyric she ever sang.

You get to know Jim Morrison.

I don’t think I got to know him.

He was a very moody kind of a distant guy, but I didn’t want to get too close to him.

In this video, we look into the seven musicians who crossed paths with Ronstat in ways that left lasting scars.

From backstage betrayals to public humiliations, these stories reveal the untold tensions in the world of rock and roll.

Number seven, Don Henley and the Eagles.

Before the Eagles filled stadiums, they were just a pair of unknown musicians, Don Henley and Glenn Frey, trying to find their place in Los Angeles.

Linda Ronstat changed everything for them.

In 1971, she needed a backing band for her upcoming tour and decided to give these two a chance.

Henley played drums and sang harmonies.

Frey played guitar.

The lineup also included Randy Meisner and Bernie Leen.

That tour became the foundation for one of the biggest rock bands in history, the Eagles.

Ronstat didn’t just give them a job, she gave them exposure, direction, and credibility.

At that time, she was a rising star with a strong reputation in country rock.

Industry insiders paid attention to her band.

She helped them build contacts and by the end of the tour, Frey and Henley had decided to branch out and form their own group.

Ronstat even supported that decision.

She didn’t try to keep them.

She let them go and even suggested record executives check them out.

The Eagles exploded quickly.

By 1973, they had a hit with Take It Easy.

Soon came Desperado, One of These Nights, and Hotel California.

While Ronstat continued her successful solo career, the guys she helped launch became stadium giants.

But things soured behind the scenes.

Henley’s attitude shifted.

Fame changed the tone.

He reportedly became more controlling and dismissive of Ronstat’s approach to music.

In an interview during the mid70s, Henley made a subtle but pointed remark that Ronstat’s style was safe and too polished.

For Ronstat, who valued artistry and musical growth, that comment stung.

She felt disrespected, not just because she gave him a chance, but because he overlooked the influence she had on the band’s early sound.

What truly caused a rift, though, was what happened offstage.

Ronstat discovered Henley had been using her name to access venues and events she was not part of.

He allegedly demanded guest access to a tour she headlined without her permission.

When she found out, she revoked all his backstage credentials.

From that point on, Henley was no longer welcome at any of her shows.

Industry insiders said Ronstat handled the issue quietly but firmly.

She didn’t call out Henley in the press.

She didn’t create drama.

She simply cut ties.

For someone who had built her brand on grace and professionalism, it was a line she rarely crossed.

This time though, she made an exception.

Here’s the insight many people miss.

Ronstat was more than just a singer.

She had influence behind the scenes, especially in shaping talent.

Before the Eagles found their sound, they were molded by Ronstat’s touring style, stage discipline, and vocal layering techniques.

Frey even said later that they learned the value of harmony from watching her record vocals.

That’s a major part of what made the Eagle’s sound so iconic.

But Henley never acknowledged that influence publicly.

Instead, he seemed to distance himself from the early days, possibly to build the Eagle’s brand as independent and self-made.

Ronstat never demanded credit, but those who knew the full story saw the pattern.

Ronstat’s producer at the time, John Boland, was instrumental in introducing Frey and Henley to her.

That connection wasn’t random.

It was intentional.

Ronstat wasn’t just a bystander in the formation of the Eagles.

She was part of the foundation.

Yet, the way Henley separated himself from that origin story felt like a quiet betrayal.

After the fallout, the two rarely crossed paths again.

Ronstat continued to evolve, experimenting with opera, mariachi, and big band.

Henley stuck with the classic rock formula and pursued a solo career.

Both were successful in their own right, but that early connection remained unspoken.

Jim Morrison’s backstage arrogance and public mockery of Linda Ronstat left a lasting scar on their once promising relationship.

Number six, Jim Morrison’s onstage antics.

It took Linda Ronstad a while to find her way in the music business in 1968.

The Stone Ponies, who had a hit with Different Drum, were the first band to bring her attention.

During this rise, she met Jim Morrison, the lead singer of The Doors.

The band was already known for their unpredictable shows and Morrison’s wild behavior.

The things that happened between them on stage, not what was planned, hurt their careers.

Moving quickly, Morrison went to a concert where Ronstat was the opening act.

She was in the middle of her performance when he came out from behind the scenes, walked up to her, and pulled her toward him in front of everyone.

He tried to kiss her right there on stage without telling her.

It was awkward, not professional, and completely out of the blue.

Ronstat stopped and looked shocked.

That moment made her look bad in front of thousands of people and spoiled the mood.

It wasn’t just a spur-ofthe- moment choice.

Morrison behaved in a way that matched a pattern.

By 1968, his substance and alcohol use was getting worse, and he often caused problems at concerts.

But this episode was different because it involved another artist who refused to be a part of his onstage drama.

Morrison used Ronstat as a prop in his show rather than as a friend.

Ronstat did not make a fuss in the backstage area after the show.

People knew her for keeping her cool in public, but people who knew her well said that what happened really shook her.

Even though she didn’t say much about it, her team made it clear that she wouldn’t be performing near Morrison again.

She did not need that kind of chaos as her career grew.

The performance was just one part of the problem.

A few weeks later, Morrison made things worse.

In a radio interview, he made fun of Ronstat by calling her sweet but spineless.

He said her music didn’t have any fire and that she didn’t stand up for herself.

This was rude and touchy at the same time.

At the time, it came from someone much more famous and powerful.

The remarks spread and Ronstat’s confidence dropped, but she still didn’t answer in public.

In no way did she act that way.

Instead, she kept building her catalog and reputation one show at a time.

But she had the Morrison moment and some say it changed how she did business in the music business.

From then on, Ronstat became more aware of her stage presence and personal limits.

She became more careful about choosing her partners and avoided tours with musicians who were known to act recklessly.

This is the most important thing that most people don’t know.

Ronstat was already getting respect in the business behind the scenes.

Managers and producers saw her as more than just another young voice.

They saw her as a professional with long-term prospects.

After the Morrison event, some of those insiders paid her more attention.

They liked how she dealt with it.

No drama, just distance.

It made her feel good about living in a selfish world.

In the meantime, Morrison kept spinning.

He began drinking too much and his stage stumbling got worse.

After less than 3 years, he died at the age of 27.

Even though he left a mark on rock history, things that happened with Ronstat remind us that despite being brilliant, he was also very flawed.

It wasn’t just about his behavior.

It was also about the career of another artist because he crossed lines that he shouldn’t have.

Ronstat saw the event as the beginning of something new, not the end of the world.

She kept going without ever focusing on drama.

Not shockingly, she grew because she was talented and worked hard.

Morrison quit quickly while Ronstat went on to have a career that lasted decades.

Number five, Neil Young’s dismissal.

The middle of the 1970s were Linda Ronstat’s most famous years.

Millions of copies of her albums were sold, and no one else had a voice like hers.

The only woman in charge of a rock scene mostly made up of men was she.

Around the same time, Neil Young was also at his best.

His political point of view and folk rock style were praised.

Both artists were admired even though they worked in very different types of music.

So when they met at a politically charged benefit concert in 1976, things didn’t quite go as planned.

A lot of musicians who came to the event were also activists fighting for the rights of farm workers.

Linda Ronstat joined the lineup with big names like Neil Young because she has always been for causes like these.

It seemed like a strong mix of voices on paper, but behind the scenes, things quickly turned bad.

Young had strong ideas about how protest music should sound, rough, urgent, and emotionally empty.

Ronstat didn’t have the image he was going for because her performance was too polished and her sound was ready for the radio.

Behind the scenes, he let go without holding on.

He made it clear that he didn’t like her style for the event and he didn’t listen to her suggestions during practice.

People who were there said he told them her music was too commercial and too clean for a protest space.

This was more than just a difference in taste.

It felt one-on-one.

Ronstat was shocked because she was known for how hard she worked and how much she respected other artists.

She wasn’t there to be questioned in public.

She was there to support a cause she cared about.

She felt sad when she left the performance, but she was still professional.

Neil Young and she had only been on stage together once before last night.

At the time, the aftermath wasn’t talked about in the news.

The careers of both performers went on with their lives.

Later, though, people in the business said Ronstat quietly stopped working on projects with Young.

She never talked about it in public, but in interviews years later, she hinted that male musicians had judged her sincerity wrongly at times.

Young, on the other hand, kept writing political songs without any filters.

He probably thought of it as something that would go away in the course of a long career full of strong opinions and creative conflict.

He didn’t speak in public very often.

Later though, even Ronstat’s fans agreed that the way she was treated that night seemed more about control than music.

The background as well as the conflict were both unique.

Ronstat and Young were both fighting for the same cause, but they did it in different ways.

He wanted speed and edge.

She got there with clear reach.

Ronstat may have made protest music sound polished, but you could hear it a lot more on the radio and in record stores.

She had the kind of platform that could move people without them having to yell.

The most important thing that most people don’t know is that Ronstat didn’t just walk away.

She left.

She became more selective about the political events she went to, making sure that not only the cause, but also the energy fit with her values.

She started funding activism behind the scenes so that she could use her success to inspire others without having to go on stage and risk being judged again.

That choice set the tone for her second less busy but still important career phase.

It doesn’t matter who was right in this story.

At the same time, they had very different ideas about how to reach the same goal.

And sometimes having a common goal isn’t enough to make everyone happy.

Ronstat saw that benefit concert in 1976 as a turning point because of what it showed, not what was said out loud.

Not everyone takes the same path or treats other travelers with the same level of courtesy, even when they are working for the same cause.

That night with Neil Young became more than just a painful memory.

That was the last time Ronstat tried to show other artists how valuable she was.

She had already done that with gold records, soldout shows, and a legacy that would last for decades and go beyond one performance.

What should have been a creative partnership turned into humiliation for Linda Ronstat when Frank Zappa mocked her ideas.

Number four, Frank Zappa’s studio snub.

In the world of 1970s rock, Frank Zappa stood out for being bold, experimental, and unfiltered.

He didn’t care much for mainstream appeal.

He was a perfectionist who followed his own strange, complex vision of music.

So when Linda Ronstat, one of the most commercially successful female artists at the time, stepped into his studio in 1974, the result wasn’t creative magic.

It was a disaster.

The plan was simple on paper.

Ronstat was interested in exploring new sounds and stretching her musical limits.

Zappa was looking for vocalists for a project that blended rock, jazz, and avantgard elements.

On some level, it seemed like a bold, exciting match.

She had the voice.

He had the ideas.

But what happened inside the studio showed just how far apart their worlds really were.

From the start, Zappa treated the session more like a test than a collaboration.

He ran a tight ship.

Musicians were expected to follow his lead without question.

When Ronstad offered creative input, suggesting vocal changes or phrasing ideas, Zapper reportedly laughed it off, not privately, not kindly, in front of the band.

One studio tech later recalled how uncomfortable it got.

Zappa mocked her tone and implied she didn’t understand complex arrangements.

Ronstat wasn’t just brushed aside.

She was belittled.

and not because she lacked skill.

By 1974, she had already proven herself with platinum records and soldout tours.

But none of that seemed to matter in Zappa’s studio.

His style left no room for mutual respect.

Instead of building something together, he made her feel like she didn’t belong.

She walked out before the session was over.

No announcement, no confrontation, just silence.

That silence stretched for years.

The two never worked together again, and the tapes from that session were shelved.

Nothing from their brief interaction made it to the public.

What adds an interesting layer is what Zappa said afterward in private circles.

He reportedly saw the experience as proof that pop artists couldn’t handle serious music.

But that viewpoint ignored a bigger truth.

Creative control isn’t the same as creative chemistry.

Ronstat didn’t need to master Zappa’s style.

She just needed to be treated like a peer.

And that’s where the session really failed.

Zappa wasn’t just pushing musical boundaries.

He was pushing people away who didn’t fit into his system.

For Ronstat, it was a wake-up call.

She returned to her comfort zone, but with more control over her own studio spaces.

She became known for leading sessions with professionalism and openness, a direct contrast to what she had experienced with Zappa.

Here’s the new detail that rarely gets mentioned.

That failed session actually pushed Ronstat to take more risks later on, but on her own terms.

Within a few years, she branched into big band music, mariachi, and country rock crossovers.

All of those shifts were her decision.

She wasn’t just trying to reinvent herself.

She was making it clear that creativity could be bold without being cruel.

Zappa, meanwhile, continued building his unique legacy.

He worked with other vocalists who fit better into his intense environment.

He made great records, but he also burned bridges.

His attitude kept his work sharp, but it also limited the number of artists who could collaborate with him comfortably.

So while that session never produced a hit, it became a defining moment, just not the kind most people hear about.

It showed the cost of creative arrogance.

And it reminded Ronstat and anyone watching that being a genius doesn’t excuse treating others badly.

Ronstat didn’t lose anything by walking away.

In fact, she gained something stronger.

clarity about how she wanted to work, who she trusted in the studio, and what kind of energy she would no longer tolerate.

The collaboration with Zappa never made headlines, but it shaped her behind the scenes.

She didn’t need to fit into his world.

She was already building one of her own on her own terms.

Number three, David Crosby’s public critique.

During the golden years of the Laurel Canyon music scene, Linda Ronstat and David Crosby were part of a tight-knit community.

They moved in the same creative circles, shared jam sessions, and backed each other on stage.

That era was built on collaboration and freedom.

For a while, Ronstat and Crosby thrived in it.

But that spirit of unity eventually cracked.

What began as a small disagreement during a rehearsal became a sharp public rift.

It happened in 1975 when both artists were preparing for a benefit concert.

Crosby suggested a key change for one of the group performances.

Ronstat politely declined, saying it didn’t suit her vocal range.

She had always been protective of her voice.

It was her instrument.

Crosby didn’t take it well.

The fallout was fast.

A few weeks later, in an interview with Rolling Stone, Crosby didn’t hold back.

He dismissed Ronstat’s entire career, calling her manufactured and accusing her of being a product of studio engineering rather than real talent.

For someone as respected as Crosby, this wasn’t just a comment.

It was a damaging swipe at her credibility.

Ronstat was stunned.

She had worked hard to earn her place in music.

Her success wasn’t handed to her.

She toured constantly, recorded with the best, and took risks that most pop artists avoided.

Crosby’s remark cut deep because it came from someone she once trusted.

After that interview, she quietly cut ties.

She stopped listening to his work, removed him from her playlists, and kept his name off guest lists and project ideas.

It wasn’t just a reaction to an insult.

It was a boundary.

She was drawing a line between personal history and professional respect.

What most people don’t know is that Ronstat didn’t just block Crosby socially.

She also pulled out of a planned studio session with a group of Laurel Canyon musicians that would have included him.

Her decision led producers to rework the lineup entirely.

That session would have included harmony vocals for an album that later became a hit without her.

Her absence was noted.

Meanwhile, Crosby’s comments stuck with him.

Other musicians criticized him for going after a fellow artist in the press.

Some said it was part of a pattern.

Crosby had a reputation for being outspoken, but also for being difficult.

His substance use at the time only made matters worse.

His relationships, professional and personal, were unraveling.

Ronstat moved forward.

She focused on refining her sound, exploring different genres, and expanding her influence.

Within a few years, she had transitioned into working with classical and Latin music, proving that her voice was anything but manufactured.

Every move she made after the Crosby incident added more weight to her artistry.

She didn’t respond publicly.

She didn’t need to.

Her work spoke louder than his words.

Crosby later admitted in interviews that he had made a lot of mistakes during that period of his life.

While he never fully apologized to Ronstat, he hinted at regret.

But by then, the damage was done.

The trust was gone.

Here’s something that hasn’t been widely explored.

The clash between Ronstat and Crosby also reflected a deeper shift in the music scene.

As artists like Ronstat embraced commercial success and brought professional structure to their work, some of the old guard like Crosby struggled with change.

They viewed success as selling out, forgetting that success didn’t mean compromising on quality.

Ronstat wasn’t chasing fame.

She was evolving.

This wasn’t just a personal falling out.

It was symbolic of the growing divide between two versions of the music industry.

One rooted in idealism, the other in sustainability.

Ronstat chose the long road, one built on discipline and adaptability.

Crosby, for a time, clung to the myth of purity.

Ronstat’s quiet response to Crosby’s critique wasn’t weakness.

It was wisdom.

She knew the best answer was to keep creating and that’s exactly what she did.

While Crosby’s career faced ups and downs, hers kept climbing.

This moment may not get the headlines, but it shaped both artists.

It marked the end of one musical friendship and the beginning of Ronstat defining her path without compromise.

When Elvis Costello called Ronstat background music for brunch, it ignited a backstage clash that ended their brief connection.

Number two, Elvis Costello’s public insult.

In 1979, Linda Ronstat had already established herself as one of the most versatile voices in popular music.

She moved across genres with ease.

Country, rock, pop, and ballads, earning respect from fans and fellow musicians.

But not everyone appreciated her polished sound.

Elvis Costello, a rising figure in the punk and new wave scenes, made that painfully clear during an awkward moment in Cleveland.

The setting was a major festival where Ronstat was one of the headliners.

She had just finished a strong set, but backstage Castello dismissed her performance to reporters, calling it background music for brunch.

The remark wasn’t just uncalled for.

It was a calculated jab.

Costello represented the raw, rebellious edge of punk.

Ronstat, with her refined voice and crossover success, didn’t fit that mold.

To Costello, she was part of the establishment.

he wanted to tear down.

Ronstat was made aware of the comment and chose to confront him.

When she approached him backstage, Castello reportedly doubled down, delivering another insult before walking away.

He didn’t explain himself or apologize.

For Ronstat, who had dealt with criticism before, this one stung more because it came from a fellow artist during a shared event.

It was disrespect, plain and simple.

But the story didn’t end there.

What’s not often discussed is what came next.

That moment pushed Ronstat to reconsider the boundaries of the artistic community.

She had long been an advocate of open collaboration.

She welcomed different voices, even from opposite genres.

But this incident made her more cautious.

She began declining events where confrontational artists were present.

It wasn’t fear, it was strategy.

She wanted to protect her peace and focus on the music.

Meanwhile, Costello’s comments followed him for years.

Though he built a successful career, he gained a reputation for having a sharp tongue and a dismissive attitude toward artists who didn’t match his ideals.

That image stayed with him throughout the early part of the 1980s.

In later interviews, he tried to explain his younger self as being immature and overly critical, but the damage from that Cleveland insult lingered.

Behind the scenes, Ronstat’s team debated issuing a public response.

Ultimately, they chose silence.

Ronstat didn’t address it in interviews, didn’t comment in liner notes, and didn’t take shots in return.

Instead, she focused on her work.

She recorded an album of traditional Mexican music shortly after, breaking from the typical pop cycle and proving that her musical vision was always her own.

That move earned her both critical praise and new audiences, many of whom respected her for taking risks others wouldn’t.

One insight often missed in this story is that Ronstat’s ability to brush off public jabs without getting pulled into feuds was rare in an industry built on egos.

She showed that professionalism could be louder than a comeback.

While other artists fought through headlines, she built a career that stood the test of time.

That’s not just character, that’s power.

Years later, Costello softened his stance on many artists he once criticized.

While he never issued a direct apology to Ronstat, he acknowledged that his early career was marked by arrogance.

Still, the incident in Cleveland remained a footnote that defined the kind of respect or lack of it that existed between two very different corners of the music world.

This wasn’t just a rude comment at a festival.

It was a moment that highlighted the culture war between polished artistry and punk rebellion.

Ronstat became a symbol of how to respond to criticism without sacrificing dignity.

She didn’t need to fight back in public.

Her next album did it for her.

And that’s what makes this moment matter more than people realize.

It showed the contrast between noise and legacy and Ronstat’s choice to build the latter.

Number one, Paul Simon’s cold dismissal.

In 1982, the music world buzzed with the idea of a collaboration between two iconic artists.

Linda Ronstat and Paul Simon.

Ronstat, with her powerful voice and eclectic style, and Simon, known for his unique songwriting and poetic lyrics, seemed like a match made in musical heaven.

Fans eagerly awaited what was promised to be a memorable duet, but what should have been a harmonious partnership quickly turned sour.

The story begins in the recording studio.

Simon, famous for his perfectionism, was heavily involved in the creative process.

His desire for control over every detail quickly became apparent.

Ronstat, known for her own strong musical vision, found herself at odds with Simon’s constant critiques.

Every suggestion she made was met with resistance, and his method of directing the session felt more like micromanaging than collaborating.

What should have been an exciting joint effort instead became a stressful and uncomfortable situation for Ronstat.

The recording session was long and filled with tension.

Simon, determined to maintain control, pushed Ronstat to adjust her natural style to fit his specific vision.

Ronstat, who had always valued her independence and creative input, began to feel stifled.

It wasn’t just about the music.

It was about respect.

For Ronstat, this wasn’t just an artistic disagreement.

It was a matter of dignity.

What should have been a fun and collaborative experience turned into something far more uncomfortable.

Ronstat began to question whether the project was worth continuing.

The growing friction in the studio made it clear that this collaboration wasn’t going to work.

In the end, the track was never finished and the duet was never released.

The music world was left to wonder what could have been.

But for Ronstat, the unfinished track was more than just an unfulfilled promise.

It was a lesson in knowing when to walk away.

In the aftermath, Ronstat felt deeply disrespected by Simon’s approach.

She had always been someone who valued teamwork and mutual respect in her collaborations.

Simon’s controlling behavior coupled with his inability to acknowledge her creative input was a direct contrast to what she believed in as an artist.

For Ronstat, the experience was a clear signal that she wouldn’t work with Simon again, no matter how tempting the opportunity.

This incident was a turning point for Ronstat, not just in her career, but in her understanding of the music industry.

She had already been through numerous collaborations with artists who respected her voice and vision.

But this was different.

Paul Simon’s cold dismissal was a reminder of the delicate balance between artistic collaboration and personal integrity.

One often overlooked detail is that this failed collaboration highlighted a recurring theme in Ronstat’s career.

her ability to walk away from situations that didn’t serve her.

She didn’t need to engage in public arguments or release a statement about Simon’s behavior.

Instead, she simply chose to remove herself from the situation and moved forward with her career, confident in her own abilities.

It was a quiet strength, the kind that didn’t require confrontation to prove her point.

Simon, on the other hand, continued to enjoy success, but his reputation as a difficult and controlling artist became more widely recognized.

For many, his behavior during the Ronstat collaboration was just another example of his notorious perfectionism.

But for Ronstat, it served as a reminder of her value as an artist and her right to be respected in every collaboration.

The mist duet between Paul Simon and Linda Ronstat stands as a cautionary tale in the music world.

It’s a reminder that artistic collaboration is about more than just talent.

It’s about mutual respect, creative freedom, and knowing when to walk away from a project that no longer serves you.

For Ronstat, this experience strengthened her resolve to only work with those who recognized her worth and treated her as an equal.

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