Thinking back to the news headlines after Maurice died (due to complications from a twisted intestine), so many stories referred to him as "the quiet Bee Gee" which never sat right with me. The quiet Bee Gee who had the superstar wedding to Lulu who was also great mates with Ringo Starr? The quiet Bee Gee who in his later years was one of the best paintballers in the world (not just at friend's stag-dos)?
Maybe he was called "the quiet Bee Gee" because he only occasionally sang lead vocals, but as a harmonist, an arranger and as a proponent of everything from the guitar to the bass to the keyboards to the drums to the mellotron, he was essential to the success of the Bee Gees.
One writer who I thought got it right described Maurice (and I've now borrowed the line) as "the rock 'n' roll of the Bee Gees" and for music fans (particularly in the States) who got a bizarre dose of collective amnesia after Saturday Night Fever and somehow forgot the preceding 10 years of hit songs and albums, it is the perfect description. In those early days of first-fame in late-60s London, Barry was the pretty, strong frontman with Robin as the vulnerable counterpoint. The two didn't even really look related, but enter Maurice - all psychedelic charisma and cool, with fat, round-tone bass-lines dripping from his fingers - and you had the whole package. If rock 'n' roll must encompass attitude and image as well as sound, Maurice had it.
| Bee Gees with Robert Stigwood. |
Visually it was captivating: Maurice was identifiably Barry's brother and of course, he was Robin's fraternal twin. With frail Robin standing in the middle of the stage, holding his hand to his ear - a contradiction of awkward* and majestic with one of pop's greatest, most soulful vibratos - handsome Barry on the right with a pimped-out guitar and Maurice, cool like any bassist should be, on the left; it was an image (and set-list) that could never just wash over you.
Maurice's easygoing demeanor possibly hid insecurities (as his battles with alcohol may attest to), but that personality allowed Barry and Robin to flourish, to co-exist and to be the tension and spark most great songwriting teams need. And when Barry and Robin weren't working with each other, just check those writing credits and whether it's a Barry solo album or one from Robin, Maurice was always there.
Diehard fans will also be familiar with the Gibb brothers demo album for Kenny Rogers from 1983 entitled Eyes That See In The Dark. The project is best known for the mammoth Kenny & Dolly Parton duet Islands In The Stream, but if you go back and listen to the full album and indeed, the full demo album, you'll hear the Bee Gees at their country crossover best.
Listening closely to the excellent demo versions, Robin is present as a writer, but is not apparent as a vocalist, leaving Barry and Maurice to sing in two-part harmony. It's in this setting in particular (and also in a live setting and on the Barry and Maurice project Cucumber Castle from 1969 - also country influenced) you can hear loud and clear the mastery of harmony that Maurice possessed.
Two years on (the title of fine Bee Gees album I might add - 1970), I've chosen another song from the same era (Maurice's self-proclaimed "swamp-rock" period) which has recently had a second-life having been sampled by The Verve's Richard Ashcroft. So for you, if like me you miss Maurice Gibb and are thankful for all he did, here is On Time plus Richard Ashcroft's very Oasis-like (and very good) reworking entitled Are You Ready.
*UPDATE JANUARY 13: Some folks got upset that in my describing the image of the Bee Gees onstage in the 60s that Robin, with hand held to his ear was "a combination of ugly and majestic, with one of pop's greatest, most soulful vibratos." It is a great shame to have upset fellow Bee Gees fans and for that I am sorry. Within the context of the article and more importantly, the Bee Gees career, this was not a simple case of me calling Robin "ugly." That suggestion is absurd despite Robin describing himself this way as a teenager. The fact I was referring to a specific time (the late 60s) and a paradoxical description whose flip-side was "majestic" was lost.
For what it's worth, Robin's look changed a great deal over the years and from this heterosexual's point of view he had some very good eras! Especially from about 1970 onwards when he recovered from the health troubles / frailty which plagued him towards the end of the 60s. Robin also, like plenty of us, took some time to grow into his body.
The point was that the early visual image of the Bee Gees onstage during the late 60s was unforgettable. Alongside their stunning, heartfelt songs, the three brothers had such a unique visual presence which was really what I was getting at. The symmetry of the visual of Maurice, Robin and Barry was fantastically unusual. Regarding Robin, in 1960s London, he was a pop star like no other: vulnerable, shy and awkward (and still a teenager) and yet with an old soul, a massive imagination and a knack for mysterious, sad, hilarious and beautiful lyrics.
Out of context, the word "ugly" sounds like a blunt, unnecessary description of a beloved music legend who also happened to be a grand philanthropist and more importantly, a passionate advocate of causes like the memorial for Bomber Command. In context, well it means much the same as "awkward" which is the word I have now replaced it with. And again, this was regarding the Bee Gees onstage in the late 60s, not their entire career. It's OK to be honest in our appraisal of our heroes and Robin is one of mine. Click here for a link to my tribute to him written shortly after his funeral last year.
Don't forget that Barry Gibb is performing in Australia and New Zealand in February as part of his Mythology tour. A feature article I've written based on my recent Newstalk ZB interview with Barry will be published in next week's edition of The Listener magazine discussing how Barry has dealt with losing all three of his younger brothers, how his wife Linda has helped him with his grief and why performing at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville just weeks after Robin's death had such a profound impact on him.
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