Why do I keep writing about the Bee Gees?
First, there’s the escape from difficult times that music affords. Long ago, dance class would take me away like that. It required my total concentration. And though music doesn’t require that, certain groups grab my concentration. With the Bee Gees, it’s the arrangements, the solo voices, the harmonies, the songs themselves, sometimes the words although that’s not primary, the emotions – and yes, I like looking at them.
But it’s also the fact that they are brothers, as well as their unusual and to me interesting history and the humor they display in so many interviews. I have a brother, my ex-husband has many brothers, and most of my boyfriends over the years were part of sibling groups heavy on brothers, too. Inter-brother humor is something with which I’m familiar, and I used to love to just sit and listen to my husband and brothers-in-law riff off each others’ humor. It sometimes had me literally falling on the floor laughing. They’re not all alive anymore, and that’s a tremendous grief in my life, and the Bee Gees make me think of that, too – loss, and in particular the loss of brothers.
Their story has it all. Rags to riches, literally. They made a decision as tiny children, so poor the three had to share a bed, that they were going to dedicate themselves to writing songs and singing harmony, and that they would become famous and rich (in that order) and someday live in America in houses next to each other. And it worked out just about like that, with more than a few speed bumps along the way. For many years they all had houses in Miami, two almost next door and the third just a few blocks away.
They fought, and they split early on for a while but realized two things. The first was that they missed each other as brothers. The second was that they missed each other musically. Alone they had great voices and could write beautiful songs, but together they were far more than the sum of those parts. In later years they periodically did projects alone, but always remained the Bee Gees and put out albums in five decades. Actually, they had performed in six decades, because as little children they already were the financial support of their parents and two other siblings, baby brother Andy and older sister Leslie.
Maurice Gibb’s death in 2003 is what ended the Bee Gees. Robin, Maurice’s fraternal twin, said he never recovered from it, and he died of cancer in 2012. Now Barry is alone. But there are a ton of videos online – concerts, single songs, interviews, documentaries – with many watchers. I’ve noticed that most of the comments at YouTube to Bee Gees videos take an almost proprietary and familial attitude towards the group: “our” Bee Gees are often mentioned, as though their admirers and they belong to one big family. Another way to refer to the three is “the boys” – there are people online from Australia who saw them as young children on TV and then followed them to the very end. There are many people who say they’ve listened to their music every day for fifty years, often before going to bed. They say it lightens their mood, calms and soothes them.
A lot of the comments are addressed to Barry as survivor, trying to comfort him after the losses of all three brothers (that includes twins Mo and Robin and their younger brother Andy), hoping he lives a long time, talking about their own losses, and saying how much the Bee Gees’ music has meant to them over the years. Here’s one that’s very typical – I chose it rather randomly:
You and your brothers taught me what music was about. As a child of the 80’s all I knew was metal head bangin till it bled, but one day I was introduced to the BEEGEES and my life was never the same. Ya’ll showed me that music was from the heart not the speakers. I mourn your loss. Forever will I be grateful for your music. God bless you and your family. The BEEGEES will forever be in my heart and soul. THANK YOU AND GOD BLESS YOU AND THE MEMORY OF YOUR BROTHERS
Music means different things to different people. For some – actually, for many – music has a direct line to the emotions. It’s often the case that a sorrow is released by music, and tears flow that have been held back for a long time.
I’ve found music to be a solace during the last year of stress. It can be enjoyed alone or in company. With the internet, we have access to so much music, and that includes the music of the past. You or I can watch a concert from decades ago, and then follow a group or a musician in time, up to the present. It’s an extraordinary thing, and I’ve done it for many many groups and individuals in just about every genre of music, because I have eclectic tastes. But the Bee Gees – long thought by me to be uninteresting specialists in one type of music, disco – turn out to be far more fascinating and enormously varied in their output.
So I’m not finished with them yet.
Here is their first TV performance. This is a clip from 1960 in Australia, when Barry was 13 and the twins ten years old. Barry wrote the song, and they had already been performing professionally for about four years. I think they are nervous here because it was their first break on television, but they were already seasoned performers.
And here are their parents Barbara and Hugh talking about discovering the boys could sing:
Every now and then the Bee Gees would reprise a portion of “Lollipop” for their fans. Here’s one example from 1975 in Chicago, with a little bit of their humor leading up to it:
I could choose almost any Bee Gees song to close this post, but here’s one that was written around that same time, 1975. It features the Bee Gees in a country mood, one of so many genres in which they wrote and performed. This was a pretty big hit for Olivia Newton-John, who covered it, but not for the Bee Gees. This is their own version, which demonstrates a favorite practice of theirs, which is to have Robin and Barry alternate solo voices in the same song. Robin is the higher voice and Barry the lower one:
[ADDENDUM: One more thing that occurs to me about my recent fascination with the Bee Gees is the element of surprise. For decades I thought I knew who they were and what their music was about; case closed. But it turns out that I knew nearly nothing about them. I didn’t know that some of my favorite songs from the 60s had been written by the Bee Gees. I didn’t know how varied their songbook was, or that they’d written and performed for close to fifty years. I didn’t know that they sang in anything other than falsetto. I didn’t know they’d written songs I liked for other artists. I didn’t know they were charming, funny, and smart, or that they’d been child performers supporting their family. It’s been a lesson – not the first, and probably not the last – in not assuming that I know more than I actually know about something.]
