The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

You’re No Good – Linda Ronstadt

No. 23: Linda Ronstadt - Country's Most Powerful Women

About the Song

Linda Ronstadt’s powerful vocals and emotive delivery have made her a beloved figure in the world of rock and pop music. Her 1975 hit song, “You’re No Good,” showcases her ability to convey raw emotion and vulnerability through her music.

The song tells the story of a woman who is coming to terms with the end of a relationship. She sings about her feelings of betrayal and heartbreak, but also her determination to move on. Ronstadt’s voice conveys a range of emotions, from anger and sadness to hope and resilience.

The song’s simple yet poignant lyrics and catchy melody have made it a timeless classic. The song’s message of empowerment and self-love has resonated with audiences for generations.

“You’re No Good” is a testament to Ronstadt’s talent as a singer and songwriter. Her ability to connect with listeners on a deep emotional level is evident in every note. The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its timeless appeal.

Linda Ronstadt’s “You’re No Good” is a classic rock anthem that continues to inspire and entertain listeners today. Its raw emotion, relatable lyrics, and catchy melody have made it a beloved song for generations. Whether you are a fan of Ronstadt’s music or simply appreciate great songwriting, “You’re No Good” is a track that is sure to leave a lasting impression.Linda Ronstadt on New Doc, #MeToo and Life After Singing

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Lyrics: You’re No Good

Feelin’ better, now that we’re through
Feelin’ better, cause I’m over you
I’ve learned my lesson, it left a scar
Now I see how you really areYou’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no good (I’m gonna say it again)
You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no goodI broke a heart, that’s gentle and true
Well, I broke a heart over someone like you
I’ll beg his forgiveness on bended knee
I wouldn’t blame him if he said to meYou’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no good (I’m gonna say it again)
You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no good[Musical Interlude]I’m telling you now baby, that I’m goin’ my way
Forget about me baby, ’cause I’m leaving this day

You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no good (I’m gonna say it again)
You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no good
Oh, oh, no
You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good
Baby, you’re no good

 

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Elvis Presley spent his entire existence pouring every ounce of his soul into making the world forget its sorrow, yet how many among the cheering multitudes ever stopped to wonder who was holding the weight of him? Night after night, thousands packed into stifling arenas, waiting breathless for the electric instant he would stride onto the stage. They dissolved into tears at his ballads, roared when that familiar smile broke across his face, and begged relentlessly for just one more encore. And Elvis, bound by an almost unbearable sense of duty and a desperate need to be loved, would invariably find the reserves to give them a piece of his fading vitality. To the outside world, he was an untouchable monarch wrapped in adoration and deafening applause. But behind the blinding glare of the spotlight lived a profoundly lonely, fragile man who frequently emptied his last drop of strength into the crowd—leaving nothing behind for the quiet, hollow hours when the lights went down and the silence finally rushed in.

On January 16, 1971, in a grand hotel ballroom filled with America’s brightest rising leaders, the glittering armor of the King of Rock and Roll simply dissolved, leaving only the pure, beating heart of a humble man. Standing before the podium to receive the prestigious Jaycees Ten Outstanding Young Men of America award, Elvis Presley didn’t carry himself like a global conqueror who had sold millions of records and rewritten the cultural lexicon. Instead, he looked almost spellbound by the honor, his shoulders softening as he faced a room that saw past the silk and sequins to the soul beneath. When he leaned toward the microphone, the roaring swagger vanished entirely, replaced by the quiet, trembling grace of a boy from Tupelo who still couldn’t quite believe how far grace had carried him. He spoke not from a throne, but from a place of deep, unvarnished gratitude—a reminder that despite all the crowns the world had pressed upon his head, he remained forever tethered to the memory of having nothing at all, save for a runaway dream and a guitar.

While millions lost their hearts to the sculpted symmetry of Elvis Presley’s face, Linda Thompson found something infinitely more breathtaking when she looked past the myth into his soul. To the world, he was an untouchable icon—a creature of flashing lights, perfect blue eyes, and a devastating smile that could freeze an arena in its tracks with a single, lingering glance. But behind closed doors, during four-and-a-half years of quiet domesticity and shared quietude, Linda came to know a radically different man. Beneath the glittering jumpsuits and the crushing weight of global adoration lived a tender, complex, and intensely vulnerable spirit. He was a man who possessed everything the world could possibly offer, yet longed for the one thing fame could never buy or guarantee: to be truly, unconditionally seen and loved for the fragile, beautiful human being he was behind the crown.

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