Lulu, an unpretentious girl with a dispassionate eye for the pop business, sussed the Bee Gees’ dynamic. “All the brothers seemed to vie for Stigwood’s attention—Mo and Robin especially,” she wrote in her autobiography, I Don’t Want to Fight. “Barry was eighteen months older and more secure. He was the strongest creative force when it came to songwriting and singing. Robin had the most unique voice and Mo was the strongest musically, capable of picking up almost any instrument.” Maurice’s skills and adaptability meant the Bee Gees’ five-piece lineup could produce the instrumentation they wanted without having to deal with outsiders.
By the summer of 1967, either despite or because of the Bee Gees’ early success, Epstein regretted his “option agreement” with Stigwood and Shaw. “With every day he was growing increasingly more upset over what he saw as Stigwood’s personal extravagance,” Peter Brown wrote of Epstein. “NEMS executives had a charge at a local butcher where they were charging Sunday turkeys; articles of personal clothing were charged to the company account at Harrods; and when Stigwood took the Bee Gees to New York for a promotional trip, he rented a yacht for them to sail around Manhattan Island. Stigwood told Nat to charge the boat to his personal account, and Nat forwarded this information to Brian in London. ‘What personal account?’ Brian fumed. ‘When the Bee Gees are as successful as the Beatles, then Robert can rent them a yacht around Manhattan.’ Brian’s personal hope was that Stigwood and Shaw would not be able to raise the £500,000 to close the option. There was some doubt they were going to be able to raise the money in the financial community, but Stigwood insisted there was no problem and that Brian should inform the Beatles of what was taking place.”{72}
Stigwood’s words only inflamed the situation: “We all believe that potentially the Bee Gees can develop to the point where they earn as much money in record sales as the Beatles. Their first six months’ progress on an international basis has been fantastic.”{73}
As a promotion for the July 14 release of their first United Kingdom LP, Bee Gees’ 1st, NEMS released the Bee Gees’ next single in June. The A-side was “To Love Somebody,” and the B-side, “I Can’t See Nobody.” Barry wrote “To Love Somebody,” at Stigwood’s request, custom built for soul immortal Otis Redding. Barry had met Otis on a March trip to New York and admired him greatly.
If Barry Gibb never wrote another number—he shares songwriting credit with Robin, but it’s Barry’s song—“To Love Somebody” should be enough to cement his reputation as one of pop’s most important songwriters, and perhaps the one with the most underappreciated range and breadth. Barry was not yet twenty-one. When asked to create a song for Otis Redding, a difficult and particular assignment, Barry sat down and wrote not only a classic, but the greatest Otis Redding song Otis Redding never recorded. For Otis fanatics, among the many tragic aspects of his death—in a plane crash on December 10, 1967, at the age of twenty-six—is that Otis never got to sing “To Love Somebody.”
If you gathered the top songwriters of 1967, locked them in a room and told them to write a song for Otis, none of them—Sly Stone, Bob Dylan, Smokey Robinson, Carole King, Paul Simon, Booker T., Laura Nyro, Brian Wilson, Lennon and McCartney, Leonard Cohen, Holland-Dozier-Holland, Lou Reed, Randy Newman, Barry Gordy, Pete Townshend, Sonny Bono, Willy Dixon, Norman Whitfield or Neil Young—could have written a song as soulful, yearning, memorable and yet so attuned, for emotion and commerce, to Otis’s voice, breathing, timing and performance style. Maybe Van Morrison could have, back then. But nobody else.
The proof that they couldn’t is that they didn’t. Only Barry Gibb could and only Barry Gibb did. That took extraordinary songwriting chops and studious attention to Otis’s sound. Barry would later take a lot of grief, much of it deserved, for being a selfish megalomaniac. But at the time, he could really listen. And listening bespeaks compassion.
The song has, to say the least, endured. It’s easier to list who hasn’t covered it: soul great James Carr did; as did Tom Jones, Janis Joplin, Lulu, calypso deity the Mighty Sparrow, Nina Simone, Dusty Springfield, the Black Crowes, blues guitarist Little Milton, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, Joe Cocker, Roberta Flack, Simply Red, and Michael Bolton, among an infinity of others. Gram Parsons sang the most harrowing version with the Flying Burrito Brothers; Parsons understood how much soul and pain Barry had written. Eric Burden, of all people, produced the most fantastical, rococo and peculiar cover with the Animals. Even Eric’s distracting, overproduced arrangement is moving. Almost every arrangement moves the listener, including Michael Bolton’s. The song is strong enough, deep enough, to overcome the limitations of second-rate singers and give first-rate singers raw material they dream about.
“To Love Somebody” fared poorly on the UK charts, reaching only #41. In the US it made #17, but after the success of “Mining Disaster,” #17 felt like a disappointment. “Everyone told us what a great record they thought it was,” Robin said. “Other groups all raved about it but for some reason people in Britain did not seem to like it.”{74} “It’s odd that other artists don’t get hits with our songs,” Barry told Melody Maker. “I believe it’s because they don’t put enough feeling into them. Too many artists do a song rather than act it. It’s like an actor who plays a part instead of becoming that person.”{75} Maurice interrupted to say that Lulu had done a good cover of “To Love Somebody,”{76} but that was probably his crush on her doing the talking.
“‘To Love Somebody,’” Barry said, offering the first appearance of a lifelong readiness to disavow anything that wasn’t a hit, “was a good record, but ‘Massachusetts’ [the upcoming single] is a commercial record.”
“Love Somebody/Nobody” prefigured the slowly building—but not yet surfaced—divisive issue in the band: Who would sing lead? The B-side, “I Can’t See Nobody,” is Robin’s commanding, Phil Spector–style lament. He sings with a tragic resonance that Barry never attempted. Robin connects to his inner pain; Barry doesn’t seem to have any. Robin’s lost-love songs carry true heartache. Barry’s voice can be generic; no one sounds like Robin. “Nobody” has a kick-ass arrangement, a good hook and a memorable lead vocal. Why wasn’t it the A-side of its own single? Pairing it with “Love Somebody” serves both songs poorly. “Nobody” ended up ignored. Was this an early sign of power struggles to come? Was Barry reluctant to have Robin singing lead on an A-side?
Bee Gees’ 1st hit at #7 on the US Billboard charts and #8 in the UK. The psychedelic album cover presents all five members of the band as equal in stature in a line across—no separation is made between the Gibbs, Vince and Colin. Barry is, of course, in the middle. Below the photo is a brightly colored abstract illustration evoking flowers, or something. Bass player Klaus Voorman, who created the Beatles’ Revolver cover and played on George Harrison’s and John Lennon’s solo projects, designed and executed the sleeve.
The album was recorded on four tracks at both Polydor and at IBC Studios, where Stigwood routinely sent his bands. It was released in the States on Atco, a division of Atlantic. As was usual at the time, both mono and stereo versions were available. Maurice played bass and anything with a keyboard: piano, mellotron, organ. Robin sang and contributed some piano.
Bee Gees’ 1st shows that the Bee Gees had developed a unique sound, and were only waiting for a first-rate studio and arranger to explore it. They sing and play with palpable confidence. The stronger tracks—“Holiday,” “Mining Disaster,” “To Love Somebody” and “I Can’t See Nobody”—showcase singular, instantly memorable melodies, unexpected chord changes and indivisible harmony: the essence of the Bee Gees sound. The lyrics of the more meaningful songs address yearning, an inability to connect, desperate loneliness and a desire to be seen: the lyrics of alienation, sung with an aching heart. Robin’s vocals are especially affecting.
The pain of the singer, except on “I Can’t See Nobody,” is never stated directly; the Bee Gees’ mode is misdirection. It’s not exactly clear what Robin’s singing about on “Holiday” or what the
lyrics mean, but the sadness is inescapable.
On the weaker cuts, the influence of contemporaneous London bands intrudes. “In My Own Time,” “Please Read Me” and “I Close My Eyes” evoke the Hollies; “Turn of the Century” and “Craise Finton Kirk Royal Academy” reflect the faddish nostalgia for Edwardian–Aubrey Beardsley motifs and English dance-hall sounds from bygone times. With “Craise,” at last the band could be accused of copping Beatles-esque atmospherics, especially the music-hall irony and tinkling piano the Beatles adored. “Cucumber Castle” features too-busy horns and strings that sound right off the Beatles’ studio charts.
The album is not exactly rock and roll; there are no 4/4 ravers. Rhythm never dominates; it’s music of melody, and as white as can be—almost completely free of blues, R&B or soul influences. “To Love Somebody” is sung as a ballad, not a soul song. This is a record to be listened to or sung along with; it’s not for dancing or making love.
“I Close My Eyes” ends with the corny, twee horn and keyboard embellishments that Barry always liked. But it’s followed by the show-stopping, mournful, Righteous Brothers–style rave-up of Robin shouting out his broken heart on “I Can’t See Nobody.” The melodramatic arrangement; the quiet, almost spoken vocals that turn into full-volume anguish; the rich bed of strings and reverb-drenched drums sound more like Phil Spector songwriting and production than anything else the band ever did. The power and expressiveness of Robin’s voice is a revelation. On all his lead vocals, he’s unbearably sincere. Barry sounds more disconnected, almost emotion free. Robin sang lead on two tracks, Barry on four and Maurice, as per their custom, never took a solo vocal.
The less compelling cuts seem almost contentless—songwriting exercises, pure filler or pop indulgences instead of self-expression. The transition from “Cucumber Castle” to “To Love Somebody” is like moving between different planets. If they weren’t side by side on the same record, it would be hard to believe the same band did them both.
By early July, the Bee Gees were back in IBC working on their second Polydor LP, to be entitled Horizontal. They took a break from recording for a quickie promotional tour of New York in July. On July 27, the band made their first appearance—along with the Doors—on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand to sing “Mining Disaster.” True to his philosophy, Stigwood did not waste an opportunity to cross-promote. The Bandstand appearance coincided with the American release of Bee Gees’ 1st. Stigwood, demonstrating his belief in complete control, signed Colin and Vince to their own contracts with NEMS.
On August 9, a historic day for the Bee Gees, they recorded their next single, “Massachusetts.” “We were sitting in our New York hotel doing send-ups of Tom Jones and Engelbert Humperdink,” Maurice said. “We came up with this song and Robert came in and said: ‘Record that.’ We didn’t really agree with him. We agreed to record it but we didn’t think it had any hope of making the charts, so we recorded another song as well, just in case.”{77}
“We worked out the basic melody in about five minutes when we were in New York. Robin and I began, then Barry started throwing in ideas. I’m not quite sure why we thought of Massachusetts in the first place because we weren’t even sure how to spell it.”{78}
On August 26, 1967, Brian Epstein died of what was called an accidental overdose of sleeping pills. The night before, Robin was visiting NEMS’s receptionist-secretary, Molly Hullis. Since May, he and Molly had slowly been getting to know each other.
Robin saw Brian go into Stigwood’s office. “He closed the door and there was a lot of shouting,” Robin said. “When [Epstein] came out he was crying. I said, ‘What’s the matter?’ He said, ‘I can’t talk.’ And he went straight out.” Stigwood emerged from his office and told Robin and Molly about the conversation. “Brian had pleaded with Robert to go to Sussex with him that weekend because he didn’t want to be alone. The Beatles were in Bangor [India], with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. And Robert had said no.”{79} Robin, Molly and Stigwood went to Monaco as they had planned. Epstein died that night.
“We had this terrible midnight cruise to Nice,” Robin said, “so Robert could catch a plane back. He had nothing to do with Brian’s death, but he felt tremendously guilty, because if he’d stayed that might not have happened.”{80}
“At NEMS there was a wild scramble for power,” Peter Brown wrote. “The old guard Liverpool contingent, which included me, among others, lined up against the newer partners like Stigwood and Shaw who had been brought into NEMS later. Stigwood and Shaw had one major problem: they had to convince the Beatles to stay with them. Stigwood hardly even knew the Beatles. The Beatles were shocked to learn that Brian had planned to sell NEMS. As far as the Beatles were concerned, Brian’s option agreement with Stigwood didn’t include them anyway. When they heard that Stigwood and Shaw were claiming otherwise, they met with Stigwood to set him straight.”{81}
“Brian kept trying to tell us something before he died—but he never got round to it,” George Harrison said. “He had a big party down at his house and we were supposed to go there and have a meeting before the party. Unfortunately it was in the ‘Summer of Love’ and everybody was wacko. We were in our psychedelic motor cars with our permed hair, and we were permanently stoned (Brian wasn’t doing so bad himself, either)—so we never had the meeting.
“Later, we found out that he’d given Stigwood the option to acquire 51% of NEMS, which in effect meant management of The Beatles. So we had a meeting with Robert Stigwood and we said, ‘Look, NEMS is built basically on The Beatles, so you can bugger off. We’ll have 51%, and you can have 49%.’ He backed off then, and formed his own company.”{82} Stigwood and Shaw resigned from NEMS. NEMS released a statement in November.
“Following upon the death of Mr. Brian Epstein, various policies agreed between him and Mr. Robert Stigwood are not now practically possible,” the statement read. “In these circumstances, it has been agreed by the board of NEMS Enterprises Ltd., on the most amicable basis that NEMS Enterprises Ltd., and the Robert Stigwood Organisation will go their separate ways. The Beatles’ contract with us is due to expire shortly, and they have asked us to stress that it WILL be renewed. Furthermore they have said that in future they wish to take a more active part in the running of NEMS, of which they are share-holders.”{83}
“It was simply that certain ideas and policies on which I was co-operating with the late Brian Epstein are now no longer practically possible,” Stigwood told Melody Maker. “I also wish to expand my international plans, and I intend to develop television and theatrical interests.”{84}
“Holiday” was released as a single in the US in September of 1967. Polydor decided to delay the UK release until the Bee Gees’ next album. “Holiday” served as a placeholder, a way of keeping the Bee Gees in the public eye. It peaked in America at #16. In a strange piece of timing, “Massachusetts” was released not long after “Holiday.” “Massachusetts” hit the UK charts on September 20.
“We were undecided amongst ourselves about ‘Massachusetts.’” Maurice said. “We thought it might be a bit too country and western for the pop market. But it was picked as the best single from eight tracks by the staff at NEMS, so we released it.”{85} When asked why the band liked “Massachusetts” more than “Mining Disaster,” Barry said: “This is our first really big British hit. Wouldn’t it be nice if we got to No. 1?”{86}
Also on September 20, while rehearsing for their appearance on Top of the Pops on the 21st, Barry met a seventeen-year-old Top of the Pops hostess, Lynda Gray, a former Miss Edinburgh. Lynda—often described as “a Bond girl”—was a tall, brunette bombshell who radiated warmth and kindness. Maurice had met his future wife on Top of the Pops; so did Barry. Barry was still married to Maureen, but barely.
For the next week, the Bee Gees raced around, playing live gigs, another German TV show and returning to IBC to cut more tracks for Horizontal. This would be their life for October, November and December: a one-night stand, a TV show, a couple sessions at IBC
and back out for another one-night stand. Almost every other night, the Bee Gees performed live, on TV or in the studio.
By October 14, “Massachusetts” was the Bee Gees’ first #1. It would go on to be #1 in the US and sell over 5 million copies, putting the Bee Gees on par with Elvis and the Beatles.
The Gibbs left Oz for London in January. By October they had released four singles. Three made the top 20 and one was on its way to quintuple platinum and #1 on both sides of the Atlantic. Here a Beatles comparison is finally apt. Like the Beatles, who spent years honing their craft in Hamburg shitholes, the Bee Gees were an overnight success after a decade of brutally hard work. There are few richer pleasures than being underappreciated in the sticks, daring to move to the big city and discovering that the major leagues recognize all your virtues that smaller minds were too small to perceive. The boys believed they had it coming, and sure enough, they got it. How many get to say that? If they became a little full of themselves for a while, who wouldn’t?
“‘Massachusetts,’” Robin said, “is not talking about people going back to Massachusetts. It represents all the people who want to go back to somewhere or something. It is all about people who want to escape.” Robin was asked if “Massachusetts” represented the band’s state of mind. “No, not now,” he said. “It did. But we have already gone back to Massachusetts. When we were not recognised we were trying to escape—to recognition. That is something we have always wanted. We came to England searching for it and we found it.”{87}
The Gibbs could now afford a Rolls-Royce. “We’ve wanted one for as long as we can remember,” Maurice said. “Now we’ve got it. I don’t care if it never moves out of the garage. We’ve got one . . . that’s all that matters.”{88} Maurice would apply that outlook to fancy cars his entire life; it’s rumored he spent an aggregate of $100 million on automobiles. “We’ve only just realised something about our singles,” Maurice told Melody Maker. “‘New York Mining Disaster’ had a place in the title. Then came ‘To Love Somebody’ which didn’t do much. Now there is ‘Massachusetts,’ a place name again, getting to number one. We should be safe. Our next single is called ‘World.’”{89}
The Bee Gees Page 5
