Introduction
The Critics Came for Rod Stewart for Fifty Years—But His Unexpected Answer Made Him Nearly Impossible to Defeat
Few performers have spent as long beneath the international spotlight as Rod Stewart without becoming either imprisoned by their reputation or exhausted by the need to defend it. Since his early years with the Faces and his breakthrough as a solo artist, Stewart has been praised, dismissed, rediscovered, and criticized again. Music writers have questioned his artistic choices, newspapers have examined his private life, and political commentators have objected whenever he has spoken beyond the boundaries traditionally assigned to an entertainer. Yet through every changing decade, he has retained an ability that cannot be measured by record sales: the ability to survive criticism without allowing it to define him.
The secret has never been invulnerability. Rod has often admitted that criticism can hurt, particularly when it concerns his music or the people closest to him. What distinguishes him is the method by which he eventually responds. He uses humor to reduce the power of ridicule, honesty to prevent old mistakes from becoming permanent weapons, and conviction when the issue involves something he believes is morally important. This combination has allowed him to remain recognizably himself while many of his contemporaries became cautious guardians of their former images.
To understand how remarkable that endurance is, one must remember the esteem surrounding Rod’s early work. His recordings at the beginning of the 1970s blended rock, folk, soul, and vivid storytelling with a rough-edged voice that sounded both weathered and intimate. Albums such as Every Picture Tells a Story established him as more than a charismatic frontman; they revealed a perceptive interpreter capable of finding emotional truth in both original compositions and songs written by others. His rise from the Faces to global solo stardom created expectations that would later make every musical change feel like a public referendum on his character.
The first truly damaging wave of criticism arrived when Rod embraced disco influences during the late 1970s. His hugely successful 1978 crossover single became one of the defining records of that period, but many rock traditionalists regarded it as a betrayal of the singer who had once sounded so closely connected to blues, folk, and soul. The criticism was intensified by his glamorous clothing and increasingly theatrical presentation, which seemed far removed from the informal, rough-and-ready image associated with the Faces. Even sympathetic observers have acknowledged that the critical backlash remained with him long after the record had conquered the charts.
Rod’s response was revealing. He did not spend the following decades pretending the disco period had never happened, nor did he attempt to recast the record as a solemn artistic statement. He accepted its theatricality and understood the humor in the image he had created. By acknowledging the extravagant costumes and the playful nature of the performance, he denied critics the pleasure of believing they had exposed something he was desperately trying to hide.
This is where self-deprecating humor became one of his most effective forms of protection. Rod has never behaved as though being a rock star placed him above ordinary embarrassment. He jokes about his appearance, his age, his mistakes, and the unusual circumstances of celebrity life. Such humor does not mean that nothing matters to him. Rather, it demonstrates that he understands the difference between the artist and the mythology surrounding the artist.
A public figure becomes especially vulnerable when he insists that every stage of his career must be treated with reverence. Rod has generally refused that burden. He has been willing to acknowledge when an outfit appeared excessive or when an image became larger than the music. Critics may laugh, but he is frequently laughing first, and often with greater enthusiasm. It is difficult to humiliate a man who has already recognized the absurdity of his own fame.
His response to criticism concerning family and personal responsibility required something more serious. For years, the British press examined his marriages, separations, and large blended family with little restraint. During the most frantic periods of his career, Rod was often travelling, recording, and performing at a pace that made consistent family life extraordinarily difficult. As he grew older, however, he became increasingly willing to acknowledge that professional pressure did not erase the effect of his absence upon his children.
In a later interview, Rod expressed regret that his older children, Kimberly and Sean, had not seen enough of him during the early 1980s. He explained that financial difficulties had compelled him to work and tour intensely, but he did not present that explanation as a complete excuse. The important element was his willingness to recognize what his children had experienced rather than demanding that the public admire the sacrifices required by his career.
That form of accountability has given his later comments about fatherhood greater credibility. Rod has said that raising eight children across widely separated age groups required him to become “several different fathers,” because every child possessed a distinct temperament and faced different problems. He emphasized the necessity of treating them as individuals rather than assuming that one method of parenting could serve an entire family. Such observations sound less like the defensive declarations of a celebrity and more like the conclusions of a man who learned through error, distance, and gradual reconciliation.
There is a profound difference between public confession and genuine accountability. Confession can become another performance, carefully arranged to produce sympathy. Accountability accepts that an explanation may not remove the consequences. Rod’s strongest reflections on family do not ask listeners to erase his failures. They suggest that he understands them more clearly now and has attempted to build stronger relationships in the years that followed.
For older readers, this evolution may be more meaningful than any claim of perfection. A person who reaches advanced age without recognizing earlier mistakes has learned very little. Rod’s story suggests that maturity does not require us to deny the person we once were; it requires us to accept responsibility for that person and behave differently when another opportunity appears.
His approach changed again when criticism became political and social. In January 2023, Rod unexpectedly telephoned a live Sky News discussion about the crisis facing Britain’s National Health Service. He expressed anger over lengthy waiting lists, offered to pay for hospital scans, and called for political change. The following month, he helped fund a day of medical scans and publicly supported improved pay for nurses and junior doctors.
The intervention surprised many people because it did not resemble a carefully arranged celebrity campaign. Rod had been watching television, heard members of the public describe their difficulties, and decided to telephone the program. His comments were emotional and imperfectly polished, but that lack of preparation made them difficult to dismiss as a publicity exercise. He subsequently acted upon the promise by helping finance scans rather than allowing the moment to remain merely a dramatic television appearance.
Predictably, some commentators argued that a wealthy musician should remain silent on public policy. That response reveals the peculiar expectations placed upon entertainers. They are encouraged to attract public attention when selling tickets or recordings, but told that fame disqualifies them from speaking whenever their opinions become inconvenient. Rod did not answer every critic individually or become trapped in a prolonged online argument. He stated his position, supported it with action, and continued with his life.
A similar pattern appeared when he rejected lucrative opportunities to perform in countries whose human-rights records concerned him. Rod said he had declined an offer worth more than one million dollars to appear in Qatar before the 2022 World Cup because accepting did not feel right. In 2023, he also disclosed that he had refused a substantial offer to perform in Saudi Arabia, citing concerns about injustice and restrictions affecting women, journalists, and other groups.
These decisions did not place him beyond criticism, nor did they transform him into a political authority. They did, however, demonstrate moral conviction at a moment when silence would have been far more profitable. It is easy for a successful performer to issue a broad statement supporting fairness. It is considerably more meaningful to reject an enormous payment because the circumstances conflict with one’s principles.