It begins with a sound that is instantly, undeniably, a part of our collective memory. A grand, sweeping orchestral loop—a four-second sample that launches into one of the most iconic songs of the 1990s. The moment those strings swell, you are transported. You see a lanky Richard Ashcroft, defiant and purposeful, bumping past strangers on a London street in the legendary music video. You hear the opening words, “‘Cause it’s a bitter sweet symphony, this life,” and you feel the weight of a generation’s angst and aspiration.

The song is “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve, a track that transcended the Britpop era to become a global anthem of perseverance. Released in 1997, it was more than just a hit; it was a cultural touchstone. It played at graduations, funerals, sporting events, and in countless films and commercials. It was the song that should have cemented The Verve’s legacy and secured their financial future forever. Instead, it became the centerpiece of one of the most infamous and seemingly unjust stories in music history—a tale of how a band created a masterpiece only to have it legally stolen from them, leaving them without a single penny or even a shred of credit for their own work.

To understand this creative tragedy, we have to go back to the song’s inception. The Verve, fronted by the charismatic and often volatile Richard Ashcroft, were on the verge of collapse after their second album. During a period of hiatus, Ashcroft began penning the lyrics that would become “Bitter Sweet Symphony.” The words were deeply personal, a meditation on the monotony of daily life, the struggle for meaning, and the feeling of being trapped in a cycle you can’t escape. It was raw, honest, and powerful.

The musical genius came when the band decided to build the song around a sample from an obscure source: the Andrew Oldham Orchestra’s 1966 instrumental version of The Rolling Stones’ song “The Last Time.” Crucially, The Verve and their record label, Virgin Records, did what any responsible artist would do. They sought permission. They legally licensed a five-note segment of the orchestral recording from Decca Records. With the license secured, they built their entire song—Ashcroft’s profound lyrics, Nick McCabe’s ethereal guitar work, Simon Jones’s grounding bass line, and Peter Salisbury’s propulsive drumming—around this haunting string loop. The result was magic.

The song was an immediate smash hit, and its accompanying album, Urban Hymns, went on to sell over 10 million copies worldwide. The Verve had finally achieved the global stardom they had fought for. But as their song climbed the charts, a storm was gathering. Allen Klein, the notoriously aggressive former manager of The Rolling Stones and the head of ABKCO Records, which controlled the publishing rights to the Stones’ pre-1970 catalog, heard the track. He argued that The Verve had used a larger portion of the orchestral piece than the five-note snippet they had licensed.

A lawsuit was filed, and The Verve, a band from Wigan, England, found themselves in a legal war with one of the most powerful and litigious entities in the music business. The band and their label argued that the sample was transformative and legally cleared. But Klein’s argument prevailed. The Verve was forced into an out-of-court settlement that was nothing short of catastrophic. They had to surrender 100% of the songwriting royalties for “Bitter Sweet Symphony.”

The consequences were immediate and brutal. Richard Ashcroft’s name was removed from the songwriting credits, replaced by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. The very soul of the song, Ashcroft’s poetic and poignant lyrics, now legally belonged to two men who had nothing to do with writing them. When “Bitter Sweet Symphony” was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Rock Song, the nomination went not to Ashcroft, but to Jagger and Richards.

For the next 22 years, The Verve watched as their greatest creation generated millions of dollars for others. The song was licensed for a massive Nike advertising campaign, for Vauxhall cars, and countless other commercial ventures. Every time it played on the radio, every time it was streamed online, every time it was sold, the money flowed directly to Allen Klein’s ABKCO. The Verve, the creators, received nothing.

“It’s the best song Jagger and Richards have written in 20 years,” Ashcroft would often quip with a bitter sense of humor. But beneath the jokes was a deep and profound sense of injustice. He had poured his heart into those lyrics, and the band had crafted a sound that defined them, only to see it stripped away on a legal technicality. It was a heist in plain sight, a cautionary tale that sent a chill through the music industry. It raised fundamental questions about copyright law, sampling, and the power imbalance between artists and corporations.

For over two decades, the story remained a symbol of creative theft. But it wasn’t over. Following Allen Klein’s death in 2009, a path toward reconciliation began to slowly open. In 2019, Ashcroft’s management reached out to the new leadership at The Rolling Stones, including their manager Joyce Smyth and Mick and Keith’s son, Marlon Richards. They made a direct and moral appeal to the rock legends themselves.

In a stunning and magnanimous act of artistic solidarity, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards agreed to right the historic wrong. They unhesitatingly signed over their share of the publishing for “Bitter Sweet Symphony” and removed their names from the songwriting credits, restoring them to their rightful owner: Richard Ashcroft.

In May 2019, upon receiving the Ivor Novello Award for Outstanding Contribution to British Music, Ashcroft made the astonishing announcement. “As of last month, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards signed over all their publishing for ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony,’ which was a truly kind and magnanimous thing for them to do,” he told the stunned audience. The sense of relief and vindication was palpable. “It gives me a sense of peacefulness,” he later reflected. “A lot of my lyrical themes are about that, the internal, the spiritual, the journey. So to get that back on a song that’s not only so huge but so personal, it’s a beautiful thing.”

The story of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” is no longer just a tragedy. It is a long, arduous journey from creation to theft and, finally, to redemption. It serves as a powerful reminder of the vulnerability of artists in a complex industry, but it also stands as a testament to the enduring power of a great song and the possibility of justice, even after decades of silence. The symphony is no longer bitter; for Richard Ashcroft and The Verve, it is finally, deservedly, sweet.