The Biggest, Messiest Band Breakups in Music History

No matter how massively popular a boy band becomes, there are relentless forces that almost always break them apart in the long run. The members grow up. They become enormously wealthy. The relentless schedule of touring, recording, and promotion beats them down. They yearn for control. They dream of going solo. Musical trends change. Tween fans grow up and move onto new types of music. One member starts getting more attention than the others, leading to tension and bitterness. Younger teen idols emerge onto the scene. There’s often one member who leaves first. In the case of One Direction, it was Zane Malik, who quit the group in 2015. “There was never any room for me to experiment creatively in the band,” he told Fader magazine. “If I would sing a hook or a verse slightly R&B, or slightly myself, it would always be recorded 50 times until there was a straight version that was pop, generic as fuck, so they could use that version.” One Direction split up later that year. “I think I always wanted to go, from like the first year, really,” he told Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “I never really wanted to be there, like in the band. I just gave it a go because it was there at the time, and when I realized the direction we were going in — mind the pun — with the music, I instantly realized it wasn’t for me, because I realized I couldn’t put any input in.” A couple of years later, Malik revealed that he’s not on speaking terms with his former bandmates.

The Beach Boys put aside decades of resentments and bruising legal battles in 2012 to reunite for a 50th anniversary tour. Fans were overjoyed to see estranged cousins Brian Wilson and Mike Love finally sharing the stage and belting out the classics alongside Al Jardine, David Marks, and Bruce Johnston. But in September of that year, Love announced a series of shows with his own version of the Beach Boys, meaning the reunion was over before much of the world had a chance to see it. “As we move on, Bruce and I look forward to performing live for Beach Boys fans everywhere,” Love said in a statement. “The 50th reunion tour was designed to be a set tour with a beginning and an end to mark a special 50-year milestone for the band.” Brian Wilson responded with an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times. “What’s confusing is that by Mike not wanting or letting Al, David and me tour with the band,” he wrote, “it sort of feels like we’re being fired … I’m left wondering why he doesn’t want to continue this great trip we’re on. Al and I want to keep going because we believe we owe it to the music.” The surviving Beach Boys appeared together a handful of times for promotional events in the years that followed, but they’ve yet to play a single song. Odds are high they never will again. 

Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel’s success grew exponentially throughout the Sixties thanks to their 1965 breakthrough single, “The Sounds of Silence,” the soundtrack to 1967’s The Graduate, and a string of hits like “Scarborough Fair/Canticle,” “Homeward Bound,” and “A Hazy Shade of Winter.” They headed into the Seventies with incredible momentum thanks to 1970’s Bridge Over Troubled Water, which won a Grammy for Album of the Year and sold by the millions. But Simon resented the attention Garfunkel generated for singing “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” and Garfunkel was equally bitter that Simon was seen as the group’s lone genius for writing the songs. Shortly before they cut their last album, tensions boiled over when they were both cast in the Mike Nichols movie Catch-22, but Simon’s part was eliminated shortly before filming started. He seethed with jealousy when Garfunkel went down to Mexico to film the movie, writing “The Only Living Boy In New York” in response. There was huge pressure on Simon to write another collection of songs for the duo after Bridge Over Troubled Water, but he refused. “At that point,” he said, “I just wanted out.” There were numerous reunion tours in the years that followed (and they played in front of nearly 500,000 people in Central Park in 1981), but a new studio album from the most beloved folk-pop duo of all time never happened. 

The Pussycat Dolls started as a burlesque troupe in the mid-Nineties, but they became a pop act in the early 2000s thanks to Jimmy Iovine. Led by Nicole Scherzinger, the group scored a series of suggestive hit singles like “Don’t Cha” and “Buttons” and landed a slot opening for Britney Spears. But Iovine eyed Scherzinger as a potential solo star from the Dolls’ earliest days, and in a move straight out of the Supremes playbook, they began billing themselves as Pussycat Dolls Featuring Nicole Scherzinger. This did not sit well with the others. “Thank you for supporting me even though I’m not featured!” Pussycat Doll Melody Thorton told the crowd at one gig. “You know what I’m saying?” Scherzinger tried to shrug the whole thing off. “That doesn’t take away from anybody else in the group,” she said. “That’s my role.” Nobody was buying this, of course. They split in 2010. The group attempted to head back on the road in 2020, but the tour was put on hold when Covid hit early that year. They finally called the whole thing off in 2022, though the members of the group not named “Nicole Scherzinger” only learned about the end of the final demise of Pussycat Dolls via Instagram.

Many Destiny’s Child fans were stunned to turn on MTV in 2000 and see the new video for the R&B group’s new single, “Say My Name,” a clip in which original members LeToya Luckett and LaTavia Roberson were nowhere to be found. Without any prior announcement, they had been replaced by Michelle Williams and Farrah Franklin. It turns out the news was just as shocking to Luckett and Roberson themselves. “I hate even talking about it, and it’s been 20 years — but it is what it is,” Roberson said in 2016. “We saw the ‘Say My Name’ video on TV, and that’s how I found out I was no longer in the group.” The original Destiny’s Child quartet emerged in 1997, landing big hits with early singles “No, No, No” and “Bills Bills Bills.” But they were managed by Matthew Knowles, Beyoncé’s father, and Luckett and Roberson made moves to bring in their own manager in 2000. Knowles responded by kicking them out of the group. Twisting the knife even further, new members Williams and Franklin lip-synced their vocal parts in the “Say My Name” video. The ousted DC members filed a civil lawsuit against Matthew Knowles months later, alleging that he “made money from the girls’ work while the girls themselves made virtually no money.” The matter was settled out of court, though they sued again in 2001 over the lyrics to “Survivor” (“You thought that I’d be stressed without you/ But I’m chillin’/ You thought that I wouldn’t sell without you/ Sold 9 million”), which they felt were aimed at them. In 2018, Beyoncé met privately with Luckett and Roberson on her 2014 On the Run Tour and finally made peace. 

Dennis DeYoung formed the band that became Styx in the early Sixties with his elementary school buddies Chuck and John Panozzo. Guitarist J.Y. Young joined in 1970 and Tommy Shaw, another guitarist, rounded out the classic lineup in 1975. DeYoung and Shaw wrote and sang all of the group’s hits, including “Come Sail Away,” “Renegade,” and “Mr. Roboto,” but personal and musical differences led to the group splintering in the early Eighties. They reformed in 1996 for a successful reunion tour, but in 1999 DeYoung contracted a viral illness that made him sensitive to light, delaying their touring plans. Frustrated by waiting and the difficult process of creating their 1999 LP Brave New World, the group kicked DeYoung out and replaced him with keyboardist-singer Lawrence Gowan. DeYoung sued them the following year. “They have taken the band’s name and excluded me from the decision-making process,” he said. “I have asked for a meeting since July of ’98, and the response I’ve gotten is there is no interest in talking.” A deal was eventually worked out where the band could carry on without him. And even though DeYoung recovered many years ago and has said he would love to come back for one last tour, that doesn’t seem likely. “In retrospect, we weren’t even happy working with each other in our heyday,” Shaw told Rolling Stone in 2011. “We’re just different people with different desires and different visions of how things should be. God, it was such an unhappy place. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. We’re crazy, but we’re not insane.”

Blink-182’s Mark Hoppus and Tom DeLonge were teenage best friends and had near identical visions for the band throughout their first decade together. But once they hit their thirties and found themselves multi-millionaires, things started to change. Hoppus felt they should stick to the winning pop-punk formula, and DeLonge wanted to expand into more ambitious U2-like sounds. He was also hopelessly addicted to painkillers and busy raising a young daughter. “For me, it all got very toxic,” DeLonge told Rolling Stone in 2011. “It was all about money. It was all about ego. It was all about fame … we weren’t even communicating. We were communicating through other people.” They announced an “indefinite hiatus” in 2005 and totally severed all lines of communication. “The reality is, at the end, when we decided to take this break, our priorities were mad, mad different,” DeLonge said in 2005. “My priority was my family, and my life had to be structured in a way where I had to be around for my daughter … The last words that were said to me by my band members were, ‘If your family is going to be your priority, then you better be cool with the repercussions,’ whatever that means. That was the last thing that was said to me. And I think there was a lot of paranoia and a lot of bitterness between all of us.”

Pearl Jam were at the pinnacle of their success when Cameron Crowe met up with them for a 1993 Rolling Stone cover story. What he found was a band very uncomfortable with their success, unwilling to release singles or even shoot a video for MTV. The sole exception was drummer Dave Abbruzzese, who joined Pearl Jam in 1991 shortly after the recording of Ten. “To me, when I was younger and I heard about a band selling a million records, I thought the band would get together and jump up and down for at least a minute,” he said, “and just go, ‘Wow, I can’t believe it.’ But it doesn’t happen that way [in this band]. Me, I flip out. I jump up and down by myself.” Abbruzzese remained an outsider throughout his time in Pearl Jam, which came to an abrupt end in 1994 when he was fired. “Dave was a different egg for sure,” bassist Jeff Ament said. “There were a lot of things, personality wise, where I didn’t see eye to eye with him. He was more comfortable being a rock star than the rest of us. Partying, girls, cars. I don’t know if anyone was in the same space.” The firing left Abbruzzese shattered, and the wound was reopened in 2016 when he learned he wouldn’t be entering the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with his former bandmates. “The members of Pearl Jam have got to know what’s the right thing to do,” he wrote online. “They can’t justify ignoring my contributions. Like me or not.” When the big night came, Abbruzzese was nowhere to be seen.

For a brief moment in the late Sixties and early Seventies, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young were the most important band in America. They embodied the “peace and love” ethos of Woodstock with hits like “Our House” and “Teach Your Children,” and they channeled the collective rage the country felt after Kent State into their protest anthem “Ohio.” But they were four very distinct and strong personalities with different goals for the band. They were also taking very heavy drugs. And in the case of Stephen Stills and Graham Nash, they were both in love with Rita Coolidge. Throw in Neil Young’s tendency to save his best songs for his solo albums and inability to commit to much of anything for more than a few months, and you have a very combustible situation. By July 1970, tensions were so thick among all four members that they simply decided to go on indefinite hiatus. “I think Stephen always felt that Nash and I were resentful or trying to obstruct him,” David Crosby wrote in his memoir Long Time Gone. “I felt that he didn’t really give us credit where it was due. In a thoughtless moment, he’d say things like, ‘They’re just my backup singers’ to people. That would naturally piss us off. I don’t think he ever really meant it.”

Cream lasted a mere three years, but it must have felt like an eternity to Eric Clapton. That’s because drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Jack Bruce despised each other going back to their days in the Graham Bond Organisation where they used to literally fight onstage. Clapton overlooked this at first since they were indeed the “cream” of the rock world, and the tension led to some incredible concerts, but it wasn’t built to last. By 1968, Clapton was on the brink of a nervous breakdown after mediating countless fights. “It felt like I was in a confrontational situation 24 hours a day,” Clapton said in 2004. “Half my time was spent trying to keep the peace. And on top of that you’re trying to be creative and make music. I was calling home to Robert Stigwood, our manager, and saying, ‘Get me out of here – these guys are crazy. I don’t know what’s going on and I’ve had enough.’ ”

In 1987, near the height of Journey’s success, frontman Steve Perry decided he didn’t want to be in a rock band anymore. He came back a little under a decade later for the successful reunion album Trial by Fire. A massive arena tour was in the early stages of development when Perry went hiking in Hawaii and experienced severe hip pain, and soon learned he’d likely require hip replacement surgery. For the next several months, Perry considered his medical options and put the tour on indefinite hold. The wait was agonizing for his bandmates. “They wanted me to make a decision on the surgery,” Perry told Rolling Stone in 2018. “But I didn’t feel it was a group decision. Then I was told on the phone that they needed to know when I was gonna do it ’cause they had checked out some new singers.” Perry felt that his bandmates were trying to corner him. “I said to them, ‘Do what you need to do, but don’t call it Journey,’” he said. “If you fracture the stone, I don’t know how I could come back to it.’” It’s now a quarter century later, and Perry has stuck to his word. 

The late Seventies were a very difficult time for Black Sabbath. They were not only competing with a new generation of hard rock and heavy metal bands they inspired, but also dealing with Ozzy Osbourne’s drinking problem, drug use, and overall unreliability. This led to two underwhelming albums (1976’s Technical Ecstasy and 1978’s Never Say Die!) and a tour where opening act Van Halen blew them off the stage every night. “It was sad,” Tony Iommi wrote in his memoir Iron Man. “We had been together for a decade, but it got to a point where we couldn’t relate to each other any more. There were so many drugs flying around, coke and quaaludes and Mandrax … Somebody had to make a move, somebody had to do something, otherwise we’d still be there and we’d all be out of it. So that was that.” Osbourne flipped out when Iommi delivered the news that he was out. “We were like family, like brothers,” Osbourne wrote in his book I Am Ozzy. “And firing me for being fucked up was hypocritical bullshit. We were all fucked up. If you’re stoned and I’m stoned and you’re telling me that I’m fired because I’m stoned, how can that be? Because I’m slightly more stoned than you are?”

David Ruffin began his career in the Temptations as a backup singer, replacing founding member Elbridge “Al” Bryant, but Smokey Robinson recognized his talents and began writing songs for him, starting with “My Girl.” It was the start of an amazing run of Temptations hits with Ruffin on lead vocals, including “Since I Lost My Baby,” “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg,” and “I Wish It Would Rain.” But with each new hit, Ruffin’s ego swelled. He also developed a significant cocaine problem and began showing up late to practice and concerts. By 1967, he was demanding that the group pull a Supremes and rename themselves “David Ruffin and the Temptations.” None of this sat well with the rest of the Tempts, and they fired him 1968 even though he’d essentially become the public face of the band. “For a guy who acted like he wanted to be away from us, he took it very hard,” Temptations leader Otis Williams wrote in his memoir. “In his mind, I guess, he was the key to the Temptations, so much so that the four of us would put up with anything.” A dejected Ruffin began showing up at Temptations gigs and storming onto the stage, desperate to get his job back, but the gambit didn’t work. They’d already hired Dennis Edwards to replace him.

If the Libertines had handled their success a little better in the early 2000s, they could have become the next Blur or Oasis. That’s not what happened though. What did happen is that guitarist-singer Pete Doherty became a near-hopeless heroin and crack addict, making it nearly impossible for the band to carry on. At one point, he was even arrested for breaking into the apartment of his bandmate and close friend, Carl Barât, and stealing an antique guitar and his NME award. Tensions flared up to the point where they needed bodyguards in the studio to keep them apart from each other. This wasn’t the best atmosphere to create new music, and the band called it quits in 2004. They finally reunited in 2014. “It was this colossal fucking row that took 10 years to get over, basically,” Doherty said. “And, also, I stopped taking heroin, all day, every day, intravenously. That helped, too.” Yeah. That tends to help. 

Talking Heads didn’t formally break up until 1991, but their last record was 1988’s Naked, and their last tour was the 1983-84 run behind their album Speaking in Tongues. Those final few years were a tumultuous time in which David Byrne took over nearly every aspect of the band, leaving his group’s other three members increasingly frustrated. And when they tried to tour as Heads in 1995 with a new vocalist, Byrne took them to court. “[David] is a man incapable of returning friendships,” bassist Tina Weymouth said in 2005. “Cutting off attachments when a thing/person is perceived to have served its purpose or there is a perceived threat to ego is the lifelong pattern of his relations.” The group’s only live performance of the past 30 years took place at their 2002 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. In recent years, Byrne staged a highly successful Broadway musical where he performed many songs from the Talking Heads catalog. None of his bandmates saw it. “I would have liked to go, but I wasn’t going to just drop in uninvited,” drummer Chris Frantz told Rolling Stone in 2020. “I think that would have been peculiar. And no invitation came, so I haven’t seen the show. I’ve seen little bits on YouTube. I think it’s highly unlikely that without Talking Heads songs he would have even had a Broadway show.”

New Order were in a pretty cushy situation at the turn of the millennium. While most of their 1980s peers were playing casinos and state fairs, struggling to find any traction, they were scoring genuine hits like “Crystal” and headlining massive festivals. All they had to do was keep their shit together and the three of them could have kept raking it in for decades. But bassist Peter Hook was still bitter that guitarist-singer Bernard Sumner formed the side project Electronic with ex-Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr in 1991, and Sumner and drummer Stephen Morris were pissed that Hook bought the rights to the music recorded at Manchester’s iconic Hacienda club and released it as part of a 2006 compilation. All of this contributed to tension on their tour that year. When it wrapped, Hook said the band was ending via a MySpace post. “After 30 years in a band together we are very disappointed that Hooky has decided to go to the press and announce unilaterally that New Order have split up,” Sumner and Morris said in a group statement. “We would have hoped that he could have approached us personally first. He does not speak for all the band, therefore we can only assume he no longer wants to be a part of New Order.” When New Order returned to life in 2011 without Hook, a nasty legal battle kicked off. And over a decade later, they still haven’t spoken. 

The Smiths existed for a scant five years (1982-87), and looking back at their chaotic story, it’s kind of a miracle they even lasted that long. That’s because they never had a proper manager, bassist Andy Rourke became a heroin addict, guitarist Johnny Marr’s urge to work with outside artists rankled his bandmates, and singer Morrissey is … well, Morrissey. “The differences in personalities are what often make for interesting chemistry,” Marr told Rolling Stone in 2018, “and inevitably the differences in personality comes a point when those things are gonna stop forward motion, I guess. I suppose as well, me and Morrissey just saw our futures differently.” They sniped at each other in the press a bit after the breakup, but things didn’t grow catastrophically ugly until 1989 when Rourke and drummer Mike Joyce sued Morrissey and Marr over royalties. Things finally reached a courtroom in 1996, and a judge awarded the rhythm section £1 million in back royalties and 25 percent of band profits going forward. Morrissey said the legal battle ruled out any chance of a reunion. “The court case was a potted history of the life of the Smiths,” he said. “Mike, talking constantly and saying nothing. Andy, unable to remember his own name. Johnny, trying to please everyone and consequently pleasing no one. And Morrissey under the scorching spotlight in the dock being drilled. ‘How dare you be successful? How dare you move on?’ To me, the Smiths were a beautiful thing and Johnny left it, and Mike has destroyed it.”

When Oasis and the Black Crowes hit the road together in the summer of 2001, they jokingly called the tour Brotherly Love. That’s because the brothers at the core of both bands had spent the past decade fighting like maniacs. Chris and Rich Robinson dissolved the band just a few months later, reunited it three years after that, and then saw it collapse yet again in 2015. Rich Robinson said it came down to a business dispute. “I love my brother and respect his talent,” he said, “but his present demand that I must give up my equal share of the band, and that our drummer for 28 years and original partner, Steve Gorman, relinquish 100 percent of his share, reducing him to a salaried employee, is not something I could agree to.” In 2017, Chris Robinson told Rolling Stone he had no interest in a reunion. “I plan on, at some point, singing those songs,” he said. “But not with any of those people. Family’s family, business is business. But music is music. And that music has been tainted to me by behavior and attitudes. Actions. You know what I mean? Money’s never motivated me. It’s not gonna start now. No matter what happens.” The band came back two years later for a reunion tour. Tickets were not cheap.

David Crosby was an incredible songwriter and singer, but he wasn’t always the best bandmate. The Byrds learned this pretty early into their run during the 1960s. “I had a large ego and Roger and I started having conflicts with each other over material, business, expenses,” Crosby wrote in his memoir Long Time Gone. “Everything we did was a potential source of disagreement.” Things came to a head in 1967 when Crosby sat in with Buffalo Springfield at the Monterey Pop festival and went on an onstage rant about the JFK assisination that embarrassed the other Byrds. There were also major battles during the recording of their album The Notorious Byrd Brothers. By the end of 1967, they’d simply had enough. “[Roger McGuinn and Chris Hillman] came over and said that they wanted to throw me out,” Crosby said in 1980. “They came zooming up in their Porsches and said that I was impossible to work with and I wasn’t very good anyway, and they’d do better without me. And frankly, I’ve been laughing ever since. Fuck ’em. But it hurt like hell.”

In the early days of the Pixies, the band pretty much understood that Charles Thompson (a.k.a. Black Francis) wrote all the songs. The formula led to classic albums like Surfer Rosa and Doolittle, but bassist Kim Deal eventually felt some understandable resentment, especially after proving her songwriting chops when she co-wrote their classic “Gigantic.” The formation of the Breeders in 1990 gave her a creative outlet, but that made it harder to return to the Pixies where she had only had a supporting role. Deal didn’t have any songs on 1991’s Bossanova and 1992’s Trompe le Monde. Making matters worse, she wasn’t getting along with Thompson offstage, and the Pixies 1992 tour opening for U2 turned into a miserable slog, as the unhappy band soldiered through gigs in front of oceans of indifferent fans who’d never heard of them. “We were not getting much of a reaction and feeling a little tense, especially me,” Thompson said. “I needed to get away from that band and those people.” He did that a few months later when he broke up the band via fax. “If I would have called a meeting or something, then it would have just kind of devolved into this big discussion,” Thompson said in 2004. “And I just wasn’t up for that. I was just, like, ‘I’m done. I’m done. Goodbye. There’s no discussion,’ you know what I mean?” 

Between 1968 and 1970, Creedence Clearwater Revival pounded out six albums and landed some of the greatest singles in rock history on the charts, including “Proud Mary,” “Fortunate Son,” “Bad Moon Rising,” and “Up Around the Bend.” But deep resentments lingered behind the scenes because John Fogerty wrote and produced all the band’s material with little input from his bandmates. This was especially tough on guitarist Tom Fogerty, John’s older brother, who quit the group in 1971. “He was the older brother and the younger brother had a lot more talent,” Fogerty wrote in his memoir, Fortunate Son, “therefore he was jealous even to a greater degree than the other two in Creedence Clearwater Revival.” The band briefly carried on as a trio, but bassist Stu Cook and drummer Doug Clifford insisted that they be brought into the songwriting process. The result was Mardi Gras, one of the most infamously awful albums in rock history. It was also the last gasp of the band. They broke up shortly after it came out. Relations since that time have been highly strained, to put it mildly. 

The 1979 World Series of Rock at Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium had an incredible bill featuring AC/DC, Journey, Thin Lizzy, Ted Nugent, and Aerosmith. But the most infamous moment took place when Terry Hamilton, wife of Aerosmith bassist Tom Hamilton, threw a glass of milk at Eyssa Perry, wife of Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry. “I got into it with Joe,” Steven Tyler wrote in his memoir Does the Noise in My Head Bother You? “ ‘Man, can’t you come over here and control your woman?’ You can get into a crazy head space where all you want to say is, ‘Fuck you!’ I could have just said, ‘I’m outta here, but I didn’t; instead I said, ‘You’re fired!’ Those were the words! I’ve never actually punched Joe, but that night I came really close.” Perry left the band after the “spilled milk” incident and wouldn’t return until 1984. 

As S Club 7 learned the hard way, it’s a very bad idea to tell the world exactly how many members you have when picking your name. It means that any one disgruntled member can turn you into a punchline at any moment, simply by walking out. That’s what happened to the made-for-TV group Fifth Harmony in 2016 when Camila Cabello quit to focus on her solo career. “We have been informed via her representatives that Camila has decided to leave Fifth Harmony,” the remaining foursome wrote in an icy public statement. “We wish her well.” They wished her so well that when they played at the MTV Video Music Awards the next year, they started their performance by making it look like a fifth member took a violent fall off the stage. “It definitely hurt my feelings,” Cabello told The New York Times. “I wasn’t expecting it, I wasn’t prepared for it — especially because at that point I’d moved on from it. I was just like, ‘What? Why?’ ” The group responded by saying that they wanted to “show the world in an artistic way that, hey, the four of us are Fifth Harmony.” Turned out, the world didn’t much care. The group disbanded in 2018 after their lone Cabello-free LP failed to generate a hit.

The Clash had many reasons to be happy at the end of the Combat Rock tour in 1982. They were one of the most critically acclaimed bands in rock, and one of the most popular due to their recent hits “Rock the Casbah” and “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” They even played stadiums opening for the Who. But they had to fire drummer Topper Headon due to his drug habit despite his having written “Rock the Casbah,” and frontman Joe Strummer and guitarist Mick Jones had very different visions for the group’s sound going forward. Simply put, Jones was infatuated with hip-hop, and Strummer wanted to get back to their punk roots. After a raggedy performance at the 1983 US Festival, Jones was fired. Strummer and bassist Paul Simonon limped ahead in 1985 with the underwhelming album Cut the Crap. But a Jones-free Clash simply didn’t work, and the group called it quits at the end of the year. 

Despite releasing tranquil songs like “Peaceful Easy Feeling” and “Take It Easy,” Don Henley and Glenn Frey were anything but mellow dudes back in the Seventies. They were the undisputed leaders of the Eagles due to their domineering personalities and the fact they wrote and sang the majority of the band’s songs. This created a very tense dynamic that contributed to the departure of original guitarist Bernie Leadon in 1975 and original bassist Randy Meisner in 1977. By 1980, they were one of the most popular bands in rock, and one of the most bitterly divided. Things came to a head at a 1980 fundraiser for California Sen. Alan Cranston. Frey thought that guitarist Don Felder was rude to Cranston’s wife backstage, causing a fight that spilled over to the stage. “I’m going to kick your ass when we get off the stage,” Felder told Frey near the end of the set. This marked the end of the band until their Hell Freezes Over reunion tour in 1994, but they were still obligated to deliver the concert LP Eagles Live. As a not-so-subtle message to fans that the world of the Eagles was about to blow up, the record cover shows a bird’s nest filled with grenades. 

Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel patched up their extremely rocky relationship in 2003 when they agreed to perform “The Sounds of Silence” at the Grammy Awards, and they followed it up with a series of reunion tours over the next seven years. They may not have been best friends, but they made an absolute fortune when they got together, and the sporadic schedule gave both of them plenty of time to pursue their own projects. Everything was fine until Garfunkel briefly choked on a chunk of lobster while in Nicaragua to play a private show. It left him with vocal cord damage, and he was unable to sing during the duo’s headlining set at the New Orleans Jazz Fest a few weeks later. They were subsequently forced to postpone an upcoming tour. Garfunkel slowly regained his singing voice, but Simon, claiming that Garfunkel wasn’t being 100 percent forthright about his recovery, refused to rebook the tour. In 2015, a frustrated Garfunkel blasted Simon in an interview with the Telegraph. “How can you walk away from this lucky place on top of the world, Paul?” he said. “What’s going on with you, you idiot? How could you let that go, jerk?” He went on to say that Simon had a “Napoleonic Complex,” and that he befriended him in grade school since he felt bad for him due to his height. “And that compensation gesture,” he said, “has created a monster.” Garfunkel later said that he regretted the comments, but it was too late. Simon has ruled out any future reunions. “Quite honestly, we don’t get along,” he said in 2016. “So it’s not like it’s fun. If it was fun, I’d say, OK, sometimes we’ll go out and sing old songs in harmony. That’s cool. But when it’s not fun, you know, and you’re going to be in a tense situation, well, then I have a lot of musical areas that I like to play in. So that’ll never happen again. That’s that.”

Van Halen was a band in name only when they reunited with Sammy Hagar (see #14 below) for an arena tour in 2004. It was more like an experiment where two bitter factions – the Van Halen brothers on one side, and Hagar and bassist Michael Anthony on the other – trying to see if they loved making money and pleasing their fans more than they hated each other. It possibly might have worked if Eddie Van Halen was sober at this time. But he wasn’t. He was also incredibly angry that Hagar tried to advertise his Cabo Wabo tequila on the tour, even tattooing the logo onto his arm. Tensions boiled over at the last show in Tucson, Arizona. “He came up to me before the show and rolled my sleeve down over my Cabo Wabo tattoo,” Hagar wrote in his memoir Red Rocker. “I rolled it back up. ‘Don’t be fucking with my shirt, dude,’ I said. ‘That thing ain’t gonna last,’ he said, showing me his Van Halen tattoo. ‘See that? That’s better. That’s going to last longer.’ It was the worst show we’d ever done in our lives. Eddie played so bad …They tell me he pulled some crazy shit on the plane home. My man was completely gone and out of it.” Hagar and Van Halen made peace shortly before the guitarist died in 2020, but they never played together again.