When Rock Legends Prove Their Parents Wrong
- Rob Joyce
- Oct 23
- 3 min read
We tend to think of rock stars as born confident — guitars in hand, destiny on their shoulders. But a lot of them started out like the rest of us: trying to convince their parents they weren’t crazy for chasing music instead of a “real job.”
Take Sir Paul McCartney, for example. His dad, Jim, wanted him to play “proper music,” like jazz standards — not this noisy rock and roll nonsense. When Paul and John Lennon started rehearsing in the McCartneys’ living room, Jim supposedly scolded them, “Can’t you play something people will like?” That comment has certainly aged like milk.
Or Sir Elton John, whose RAF-officer father wished his son would stop playing in mediocre blues and rock bands and join the military. But young Reginald Dwight had other plans — plans that involved feather boas, stadium lights, and rewriting pop history.
Then there’s Bruce Springsteen, whose father would sit in the dark kitchen after his factory shift and tell Bruce, “You’ll never make a living with that guitar.” Bruce turned that tension into fuel, later writing songs like “Factory” and “Independence Day” as quiet reconciliations.
And we can’t forget Alex Lifeson, the guitarist of Rush. When Alex was a teenager growing up in Toronto, he clashed with his father over dropping out of school to pursue music. His dad wanted stability and Alex wanted to chase sound. In fact, he was grounded the night Rush played one of their earliest gigs — he had to sneak out to make the show (good call, Alex.) Years later, with platinum albums and legions of fans dissecting every 7/8 time signature, his parents finally came around — though Alex joked it took a while for them to “hear the music behind all the noise.”
And that brings us to Jeff Lynne, the soft-spoken mastermind behind Electric Light Orchestra — a man who could turn pop melodies into orchestral galaxies.
Back in the early 1970s, Jeff’s father wasn’t exactly impressed with his son’s songwriting. After hearing some of ELO’s early material, Mr. Lynne remarked that his boy’s songs “didn’t have any real tunes.” That had to hurt. Most people would sulk. Jeff went in this room and wrote “Can’t Get It Out of My Head.”
The song became ELO’s first big U.S. hit in 1974, and the album it came from, Eldorado, marked a turning point for the band. It was Jeff’s way of proving that he could write something lush, melodic, and unforgettable. The irony? His dad was right in one sense: Lynne’s music did change — it got more structured, more tuneful, and a whole lot more successful.
Perhaps it is a normal reaction for a parent to try and keep their child grounded, rather than “chasing rainbows.” But isn’t it funny how often parental doubt lights the creative fire?
McCartney wrote classics. Elton reinvented pop. Springsteen built a blue-collar opera. And Jeff Lynne? He turned fatherly criticism into one of the most hauntingly beautiful melodies of the 1970s. Maybe that’s the secret ingredient to rock genius — not rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but the quiet determination to prove the people you love— just a little bit wrong.
Want to hear more about Jeff Lynne and other superstars he worked with? You should check out the Five Legends, One Band: The Traveling Wilburys presentation on Nov. 6. How did these amazing musicians gather to create a most unique supergroup? It’s one heck of a good rock and roll story!
Have a great week. Rob
Ever had someone tell you your dream wouldn't work-- and you proved them wrong? Share your "Can't Get It Out of My Head" moment in the comments!
Very interesting material.