Badfinger occupy a unique and heartbreaking place in rock history. Few bands combined such natural melodic brilliance with such sustained misfortune.
Celebrated by peers, embraced by fans, and quietly foundational to the
development of power pop, Badfinger nevertheless became a symbol of how
the music industry can fail its most gifted artists. Their story is one of soaring songs, Beatles-adjacent promise, and a slow unravelling marked by exploitation and loss.
From The Ivey’s to Apple Records
The band’s roots stretch back to early-1960s Swansea, Wales, where Pete Ham and Ron Griffiths formed The Ivey’s while still teenagers. Ham’s songwriting talent was evident early on: He had an instinctive grasp of melody, harmony, and emotional understatement that would later define Badfinger’s best work.
After lineup changes, Tom Evans, Mike Gibbins, and eventually Joey Molland joined, creating the classic quartet. By the mid-1960s, The Ivey’s were one of the most promising unsigned bands in Britain. Their polished pop sound and strong original material attracted Mal
Evans, longtime Beatles road manager, who helped secure them an audition for Apple Records. In 1968, they became the first band signed to Apple after the Beatles themselves—an enormous endorsement at a time when Apple symbolized artistic freedom and creative prestige.
The group was soon renamed Badfinger, reportedly taken from the working title of the Beatles’ song “With a Little Help from My Friends”, which was initially called “Bad Finger Boogie.” The new name marked a fresh start, but also tied them closely to the Beatles’ shadow.
Breakthrough and Beatles Connection
Badfinger’s breakthrough came in 1969 with “Come and Get It,” written and produced by Paul McCartney. The song was deliberately crafted to sound Beatlesque, and McCartney famously insisted the band reproduce his demo note-for-note. While some critics later dismissed the song as overly derivative, it gave Badfinger their first international hit and opened doors that might
otherwise have remained closed.
Their connection to the Beatles deepened. George Harrison produced “Day After Day” and played slide guitar on the track, while Ringo Starr and Klaus Voormann contributed to sessions. Badfinger also participated in major Apple projects, including The Concert for Bangladesh and film soundtracks such as The Magic Christian. These associations lent credibility but also created
expectations that Badfinger were “the next Beatles,” a comparison that proved both flattering and limiting.
The Golden Period: No Dice and Straight Up
Between 1970 and 1971, Badfinger released the albums that would later define their reputation. No Dice (1970) marked their artistic coming-of-age, featuring songs like “No Matter What” and “Without You.” The former showcased their
ability to balance muscular guitars with pristine pop hooks, while the latter revealed Pete Ham’s gift for aching vulnerability.
Straight Up (1971) followed and is widely considered their masterpiece. Tracks such as “Day After Day” and “Baby Blue” demonstrated extraordinary consistency in songwriting and arrangement. The band sounded confident and
fully realized, blending acoustic introspection with electric punch. At the time, they were commercially successful, critically respected, and seemingly poised for long-term success. Yet even during this peak, trouble was brewing beneath the surface.
“Without You” and the Irony of Success
Perhaps the cruellest irony in Badfinger’s story is “Without You.” Though recorded by the band, the song achieved global fame only after Harry Nilsson covered it in 1971. Nilsson’s version topped charts worldwide and won a Grammy, while Badfinger—its creators—saw little financial reward. Later covers, including Mariah Carey’s 1994 version, would generate millions more. The song’s success highlighted a recurring theme: Badfinger’s music thrived in other people’s hands, while the band themselves remained financially unstable.
Collapse
At the centre of Badfinger’s downfall was their manager, Stan Polley. Polley
controlled the band’s finances and negotiated contracts that left them legally and financially exposed. Despite hit records and constant touring, the band members found themselves nearly penniless. Royalty payments vanished, and legal disputes with Apple Records and Warner Bros. consumed time and energy.
As debts mounted and lawsuits dragged on, the band splintered. Stress, mistrust, and exhaustion took their toll. In April 1975, Pete Ham, overwhelmed by financial despair and personal strain, died by suicide. He was 27 years old. His death note bitterly referenced betrayal and financial injustice, marking one of the most devastating moments in rock history.
Aftermath and Further Tragedy
Badfinger:
Following Ham’s death, Badfinger effectively ceased to exist in its original form. Joey Molland and Tom Evans attempted to revive the band with new lineups in the late 1970s, but legal battles over the band name and lingering financial issues made sustained success impossible.
Tragically, in 1983, Tom Evans also died by suicide after an argument related to royalties from “Without You.” With both principal songwriters gone, Badfinger’s story became inseparable from its losses.
Enduring Influence
In the decades since, Badfinger’s music has undergone a major reappraisal.
Once dismissed as Beatles imitators, they are now widely recognized as
pioneers of power pop, influencing artists such as Big Star, Cheap Trick,
Raspberries, Matthew Sweet, and even later alternative bands drawn to
melodic clarity and emotional honesty.
Their songs have found new life through film, television, and streaming culture. The use of “Baby Blue” in the final moments of Breaking Bad introduced the band to millions of younger listeners, triggering a surge in streams and renewed interest in their catalogue.
A Legacy Beyond Tragedy
While Badfinger’s story is undeniably tragic, reducing them to victims alone
does them a disservice. At their best, they were extraordinary songwriters and musicians—capable of crafting melodies as enduring as any of their era. Pete Ham, in particular, is now regarded as one of the great lost talents of British rock, a songwriter whose emotional directness still resonates decades later.
Badfinger’s legacy is ultimately twofold: a warning about the darker side of the music industry, and a testament to the timeless power of well-written songs. Long after the contracts have faded and the scandals been exposed, the music remains—fragile, beautiful, and unforgettable.
By Lee Etherington