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How the Bee Gees succeeded in spite of themselves
How the Bee Gees succeeded in spite of themselves
Bob Stanley’s definitive book is a nuanced exploration of a group that was praised and mocked in equal measure
Review by David Kirby
February 5, 2024 at 8:00 a.m. EST
(Pegasus)
Barry Gibb, the eldest of the brothers who would become the Bee Gees, was born in 1946, followed three years later by twins Robin and Maurice. This was on the Isle of Man, but toddlers are toddlers everywhere, and when his siblings arrived, big brother did what so many others have before and since: “He asked his mum to take the babies back,” Bob Stanley writes in his definitive group biography, “The Story of the Bee Gees: Children of the World.” ... It’s a good thing newborns come with a no-return policy. Together, the brothers became one of the most successful musical groups of all time as well as one of the most accident-prone, self-sabotaging and misunderstood{.}
[ The Bee Gees’ Barry Gibb has written more hit songs than almost anyone ]
From the Isle of Man, the boys’ parents — Hugh, a bandleader, and Barbara, a “canary,” as female singers for dance bands were known in the 1940s — shepherded them to Manchester before, in 1958, they set sail for Australia. By then, not only had Barry forgiven his two brothers for spoiling his life, but the three had formed an airtight team. Their long and storied musical career was already on its way: Though kids were forbidden on the deck of the ocean liner after 9 p.m., Hugh would find the three youngsters in their pajamas, singing Everly Brothers tunes to a crowd of fellow passengers. (At the time, the youngest Gibb, Andy, a future hitmaker on his own but never a member of the group proper, was a newborn.)
{snip}
The trio got serious in the Land Down Under and even signed with a label that issued an album in 1965 with the snappy title of “The Bee Gee’s Sing and Play 14 Barry Gibb Songs” (yes, the band’s name is spelled “Bee Gee’s” on the album’s cover). But the happening scene was in England — the Beatles had recorded “Rubber Soul” that same year — so in 1967, back the brothers went. Less than a week after their arrival in London, the boys were out one day when, according to their mother, a geezer named “Stickweed” had called.
Stickweed turned out to be Robert Stigwood, a brash and uncompromising impresario with his fingers in various pies — music, theater, film — who had partnered with Beatles manager Brian Epstein in hopes of taking over Epstein’s most successful group one day, a dream stymied by the fact that the lads from Liverpool couldn’t stand him.
{snip}
David Kirby’s books include “Little Richard: The Birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll” and “Crossroad: Artist, Audience, and the Making of American Music.”
Bob Stanley’s definitive book is a nuanced exploration of a group that was praised and mocked in equal measure
Review by David Kirby
February 5, 2024 at 8:00 a.m. EST
(Pegasus)
Barry Gibb, the eldest of the brothers who would become the Bee Gees, was born in 1946, followed three years later by twins Robin and Maurice. This was on the Isle of Man, but toddlers are toddlers everywhere, and when his siblings arrived, big brother did what so many others have before and since: “He asked his mum to take the babies back,” Bob Stanley writes in his definitive group biography, “The Story of the Bee Gees: Children of the World.” ... It’s a good thing newborns come with a no-return policy. Together, the brothers became one of the most successful musical groups of all time as well as one of the most accident-prone, self-sabotaging and misunderstood{.}
[ The Bee Gees’ Barry Gibb has written more hit songs than almost anyone ]
From the Isle of Man, the boys’ parents — Hugh, a bandleader, and Barbara, a “canary,” as female singers for dance bands were known in the 1940s — shepherded them to Manchester before, in 1958, they set sail for Australia. By then, not only had Barry forgiven his two brothers for spoiling his life, but the three had formed an airtight team. Their long and storied musical career was already on its way: Though kids were forbidden on the deck of the ocean liner after 9 p.m., Hugh would find the three youngsters in their pajamas, singing Everly Brothers tunes to a crowd of fellow passengers. (At the time, the youngest Gibb, Andy, a future hitmaker on his own but never a member of the group proper, was a newborn.)
{snip}
The trio got serious in the Land Down Under and even signed with a label that issued an album in 1965 with the snappy title of “The Bee Gee’s Sing and Play 14 Barry Gibb Songs” (yes, the band’s name is spelled “Bee Gee’s” on the album’s cover). But the happening scene was in England — the Beatles had recorded “Rubber Soul” that same year — so in 1967, back the brothers went. Less than a week after their arrival in London, the boys were out one day when, according to their mother, a geezer named “Stickweed” had called.
Stickweed turned out to be Robert Stigwood, a brash and uncompromising impresario with his fingers in various pies — music, theater, film — who had partnered with Beatles manager Brian Epstein in hopes of taking over Epstein’s most successful group one day, a dream stymied by the fact that the lads from Liverpool couldn’t stand him.
{snip}
David Kirby’s books include “Little Richard: The Birth of Rock ‘n’ Roll” and “Crossroad: Artist, Audience, and the Making of American Music.”
