Friday, May 30, 2014

update travis Gibb Music

Travis Gibb Music  May 30th 2104
 
Hey everyone . Another great track in the works. Been producing this one solo so far. I feel it's really coming along now. I'll be posted something very soon when I feel it's ready for everyone to hear. Thanks and stay tuned..

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Rolling stone 29 May 1997

 


by  David Wild, Rolling Stone, 29. May 1997

It's pretty well established that disco didn't suck, and neither do the Bee Gees. The brothers Gibb -Barry, Robin and the one some people call Maurice- were first unfairly written of in the 60's, when they were tagged as mere Beatles wanna-be's (which they eventually became in the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band movie, which did kinda suck). In 1977 the massive success of Saturday Night Fever soundtrack brought a tidal wave of fame to the Bee Gees. Ever since, they've put out a lot of memorable and, yes, soulful music. The Miami-based power trio's latest outing, Still Waters, is no exception. This month the Bee Gees will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame. Here's hoping they wear those white suits proudly.

Q: At the height of your '70's overexposure, did you ever get sick of yourselves?
Barry: Yes.
Robin: It wasn't sick of ourselves so much as afraid we were out of control of what was happening to an image that we weren't necessarily endorsing.

Q: How can you mend a broken heart?
Barry: By coming back together, which is what happened to us about the time that song was written.

Q: How can a loser ever win?
Barry: Hmmm… I don't know how does a loser ever win?
Robin: in that song we posed the questions. Doesn't mean we had the answers.

Q: How deep is your love?
Barry: Extremely deep.
Maurice: Oh, it's fucking deep -it' s an endless pit.
Robin: A huge, festering pit.

Q: Wasn't Festering Pit an alternative title for the new album?
Robin: No, that was Shit for Brains.
Maurice: Originally the album was going to be called Fuck You. Shit for Brains, was a compromise between Fuck You and Still Waters.

Q: You guys were so associated with disco, can any of you dance worth a damn?
Barry: We never could dance, but we're bopping like crazy inside.
Maurice: As a matter of fact, I'm dancing inside right now!

Q: Robin, would you like to start a joke?
Robin: Not particularly.

Q: Heard any good Bee Gee jokes lately?
Barry: No, we've never heard a good Bee Gee joke.
Maurice: We've heard a lot of ban Bee Gee jokes.

Q: Are you the brother act with the least sibling rivalry?
Barry: They've had so much trauma in the Beach Boys, who'd want to go through that?
Maurice: We've heard of Ray and Dave (Davies) from the Kinks coming to fisticuffs, but we've never done that.

Q: Is Grease sill the word?
Barry: Oh, yeah. I think most things are not possible without grease.
Maurice: Especially in your personal life.
Barry: Which takes you right back to "How deep is your love?"

Q: How do you feel about entering the Hall of Fame?
Maurice: Brilliant. It's a hell of an honor, the cream on the cake.
Barry: It's a club someone's letting you in. So where's the bar?

Q: In Cleveland. When's the last time you watched Sgt. Pepper?
Maurice: About three months ago.
Barry: You don't watch it.
Robin : You tolerate it.
Barry: What was incredible is that people like Aerosmith and Earth, Wind and Fire got into that. You would have never thought any of them would have gotten into that... thing.

Q: It's like Vietnam in a sense.
Barry: Yeah, very similar. A lot of people fell. Lives were lost.
Maurice: Drugs were flowing.
Barry: We had people blowing grass down the barrel of a gun -but that's another story.

Q: Did you hear from the Beatles about it?
Maurice: I spoke to George (Harrison) about a year after it was out. He told me he loved it -he thought it was so gay and that we sang the songs marvelously.
Barry: But no one ever wrote us and said, "Great work, lads."
Maurice: George Burns was never the same after that.

Q: Do you think that real men sing falsetto?
Maurice: Frankie Valli had trouble with that for years.
Barry: Real men do sing falsetto.

Q: What do you hope to accomplish with the new album?
Maurice: World domination!
Barry: In fact, we're despots.
Robin: The three of us can form a very cheap cabinet.

Q: I'm the proud owner of a Bee Gees lunch box. Any old merchandise you regret?
Robin: I thought the Bee Gees condom was going too far.
Maurice: I thought so too, but the testicle tickler was a big seller.

Q: Robin, any personal repercussions of discussing your experiences with lesbianism with Howard Stern?
Robin: It was a lot of fun, and I got into the spirit of things.

Q: So you got into no trouble?
Robin: Terrible trouble. The case comes up next week.

Q: What exactly is more than a woman?
Robin: Three tits. Two vaginas.

Q: Can there be too much heaven?
Barry: No, but that was a good idea: "Nobody gets too much heaven no more." Very bad grammar, but the message is great.

Q: Tonight you are taping an appearance on Ellen. Will you be coming out?
Barry: We already came out, looked about a bit and went right back in.

Barry's secret Tragedy

Barry's secret Tragedy Bee Gee Barry Gibb talks for the first time about living with the crippling pain of arthritis which once threatened to end his career von David Wigg, The Mirror (London), 24. März 2001


Singing superstar Barry Gibb stands tall, tanned, relaxed and with a welcoming smile on his face beside the porchway of his palatial Buckinghamshire mansion, set in 90 acres of stunning countryside. Rich, famous and happily married, seemingly without a care in the world, you could never imagine there was anything wrong with him. But looks can be deceptive. For years, Barry, a guest on tonight's Parkinson, has been secretly battling a crippling pain which threatened to destroy his successful career with The Bee Gees. At one point, he was afraid he might never be able to play the guitar again. "I suffer from extensive arthritis, so it's pretty much everywhere," says Barry, talking for the first time of the pain he has been living with. "You can see it in my hands. This thumb is out of its socket. There's already a knuckle gone. But I have to deal with it."

  The trouble started 15 years ago and doctors blame it on too much tennis and too many gruelling tours. "I love tennis, but I didn't start playing until I was about 33, and that's too late," says Barry, 54. "The joints really start to suffer then. Unknown to myself, I damaged all my joints. There were times about five years ago when I literally couldn't get out of bed. I was living in pain. "My lower back problems really began in 1989 on the One For All tour, which was agony for me. I got through it and then there was another tour, and we did Europe.

 I was supposed to do America after that, but the pain was unbearable. I went to hospital and said to the doctor, `If it doesn't look right, fix it. It's killing me'. Back surgery isn't a pleasant experience. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone and I think my back surgery aggravated the arthritis. "Sometimes it can be my knee or my hands, although my real problem is my left shoulder. I can't completely lift my left arm," adds Barry, who refuses to take painkillers for fear of damaging the lining of his stomach. " Fortunately I can still play the guitar, but I have to strap my wrists up to give them support. It's the twisting of the wrist that causes the pain, so it's OK.

"Then, during the last six months, my body took a turn for the better. I feel 100 per cent better than I did five years ago. Back then I didn't know how I was going to go on." While he was struggling to cope with arthritis, Barry also suffered a heart scare. "Everything came at the same time," he says. "I think it was connected to stress. I was stressed over the idea of doing another tour when I was in so much pain and, mentally, I just caved in. It wasn't a heart attack, but I had palpitations. At hospital they found that my blood pressure was up. They did a scan and discovered that I had an abnormality of some form - as if the heart was not contracting the way it ought to. "They assured me it was not life-threatening, but it can make you feel pretty bad. I couldn't get up without feeling dizzy.

 At rehearsals I'd sit on a stool to play, but when I stood up to sing I thought, `I don't think I can do this'. It was scary. And you have this horrible guilt because you feel you are letting everyone else down. " I think I'm all right now. I've changed my lifestyle and diet. I don't eat red meat and I've cut out dairy products. I swim an awful lot, too, which I'm told is good for you. I've never had a heated pool before so I've boiled up the pool!" Despite the pain, Barry is confident of doing another world tour next year. "

 The next tour will be well spaced as I can't handle performing night after night like it might have been in 1989, when I had to drag myself out to play," he says. "I've no desire to repeat that." The Bee Gees are currently all in Britain for their impressive new album, This Is Where I Came In, which is out on April 2. The title track is released as a single on Monday. Tonight the brothers guest on Parkinson, and next Saturday they are broadcasting a BBC Radio 2 concert before an audience.

  All 14 tracks on This Is Where I Came In are new, and Barry, Robin and Maurice all contributed to the songs. The album was a year in the making and was recorded at Middle Ear Studios in Florida. It marks a return to their rock, soul and ballad roots, yet retains a contemporary edge.

 The Gibbs recorded many of the vocals standing around a single mike, as they did when they first started in the 1960s. They have also ditched the falsetto harmonies which were a trademark of their Night Fever days. "I was just tired of that sound," says Barry. " While I liked the idea of doing that at 25, 35 or even 45, I get the horrors of doing it at 55! Of course, there's no argument about all that putting food on the table." The success of The Bee Gees has meant Barry can give his family the best of everything. He is married to former Scots beauty queen Linda Grey and they have five children - musician Stephen, 27, songwriter Ashley, 25, Travis, 20, Michael, 16, and nine-year-old Alexandra. "I'm very much a family person," he says. "I was married once to a girl named Maureen in Australia, which only lasted one year. I met Linda on the rebound from breaking up with Maureen. But I always wanted to get married and have a family even when I was 13. "Of course, it wasn't feasible then," he adds with a laugh. " It's that feeling of being a family unit. Linda's parents live with us and have done for years. They've always been welcome to do so. To me, that's foundation and support. " What's the secret of our marriage? There's a couple. The secret is to make sure your family comes before anything else, because no matter what you do you've got to come home.

The other secret is that Linda and I are still in love. And being really in love doesn't go away. It's also about being friends. We can look at each other and know exactly what the other is thinking. It's complete understanding of each other and sharing. We have never stopped loving each other. " I just love the feeling a close family gives you and I wouldn't change it for anything. I've never been into parties, premieres or night-clubbing. I much prefer staying at home with the wife and kids, watching TV or reading a book. I'm Mr Boring, not a party-goer at all." Barry believes it is harder being a parent today. " We are living in a crowded society," he says. " Today, it's tough because of things such as Ecstasy. Even the kind of marijuana that exists now is unlike that which was around in the '60s - it is potent and crossbred. "I tell my children, `Whatever you are doing, if I can't stop you doing it, do it at home. Don't tell me, but don't go somewhere dark and nasty to do things like that'. I'm totally opposed to it, but I know I can't stop it. They can always point at me and say, `Well, you did it!' I'd say, `Yes, but you've got your whole lives in front of you'. I'm saying things like my father said." Five years ago, Barry's eldest son Stephen, who plays guitar in US heavy metal band The Black Label Society, had a bad drug problem. He paid for him to go into rehab in the States. "Fortunately, Stephen's on top of his case now," he says with obvious relief. " At least, I think so. I pray that is the truth."

  For Barry it was also a grim reminder of what happened to his younger brother Andy, who died in 1980, aged 30, after a heart attack brought on by drug abuse. "I lost my best friend when I lost Andy," he recalls. "I believe the shock of losing him in that way is what killed my father, because he went downhill and later died from a heart attack. "Mum and dad and I all tried to help Andy because we were the closest to him. My mother was with Andy when he died at Robin's house. She was watching Andy declining, the whole time feeling helpless. It's sad, but it's not uncommon. That's when you realise you've got to deal with it. And it's not just your family. You see it every day in the newspapers with the Ecstasy thing - a kid found dead." With this tragedy behind him and his pain now more bearable, Barry is looking forward to doing more work both with and outside The Bee Gees, and is especially keen to work with Madonna, Elton John and Sir Paul McCartney. No stranger to working with other superstars, Barry produced Guilty, the 1980 Grammy award-winning Barbra Streisand album. Then there was Dionne Warwick's 1982 Top Ten hit Heartbreaker, Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers' Islands In The Stream in 1983, and Diana Ross's 1986 No 1, Chain Reaction. "I have a huge ego and a huge inferiority complex at the same time," he says. "I've worked with a lot of people who are more famous than myself who are terribly insecure. Michael Jackson once asked me, `Do you think Prince is better than me?' Can you imagine that, after all he has achieved? "And Barbra Streisand is particularly that way, too. There lies a massive ego in a good sense and a massive insecurity alongside of it. She once said to me, `Do you think the people still like me?' And I replied, `You're Barbra Streisand for goodness sake, what are you talking about, woman?'

 But then I suppose we all need reassuring all the time."

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Barry Gibb - Mythology Tour 2014

Barry Gibb brings solo tour to Bay Area

Barry Gibb brings solo tour to Bay Area

By Jim Harrington may 27 2014



Barry Gibb was riding in his car with his daughter Ali when a familiar tune came on the radio. It was "Night Fever," the disco classic that Gibb's Bee Gees recorded for 1977's "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack. So Ali decided to share the groove with people on the street.

"She turned it up and opened up the window," Barry Gibb recalls during a recent phone interview. "And people started dancing." It was not the first time he had witnessed such a reaction to one of his classic cuts. Indeed, it happens all the time. "Every time one of those ('Saturday Night Fever') songs gets played in a restaurant, the whole atmosphere changes," he says. "Somehow, everyone seems to be able to go back 37 years

. Barry Gibb of The Bee Gees performs solo in concert during his Mythology Tour 2014 at the Wells Fargo Center on Monday, May 19, 2014, in Philadelphia. Barry Gibb of The Bee Gees performs solo in concert during his Mythology Tour 2014 at the Wells Fargo Center on Monday, May 19, 2014, in Philadelphia. (Photo by Owen Sweeney/Invision/AP) (Owen Sweeney) "And it is a shock. But those are instances that show you it's OK -- this music will stay, people will listen to it, no matter what." People will also get a chance to hear the music performed live, as Gibb makes a long-awaited solo tour of North America.

The British-born, Australian-reared musician, who has lived in the U.S. for the past 30 years, performs Saturday at the Concord Pavilion. Although Gibb played some dates in Australia and England last year, he's not well known as a solo artist; he's known for his work with his brothers.

Yet, the other two Bee Gees are now gone -- Maurice died in 2003 and Robin in 2012. Barry Gibb's other famous sibling -- successful solo artist Andy Gibb -- was just 30 when he died in 1988. "It's really the next page, I suppose," Gibb says of his solo career. "We were glued together all of our lives, the three of us -- the four of us, rather. Not having any of my brothers, I just have to pull myself together. And I did that in Australia. And I did that in England. And I enjoyed it. "Instant gratification is something that drives me now -- not spending months in the studio so much as being in front of an audience and having that friendship.

" Even so, the touring life is still a family affair for Gibb. His band includes his eldest son, vocalist-guitarist Stephen, as well as vocalist Samantha Gibb, who is the daughter of Maurice Gibb. He says that music is definitely still in the Gibb family's blood. He also says that his voice feels great. "At this point in life, I never thought it would feel this good, but it does," says the 67-year-old singer. "Time hasn't really taken any of the power away. My lungs are great. My throat is great. I don't really see any differences right now. "I mean, in-ear monitors, at this point in life, are more important to me than speakers. But that's the nature of what happens to your ears, what happens to everything, as you get a little older. But I'm cooking."

The road show goes by the somewhat weighty title Mythology: The Tour Live. What kind of mythology surrounds Barry Gibb? "That's a good question," says Gibb. "I think there are a lot of truths and untruths about us as brothers and as a group. Somewhere along the way ... I'll be able to clear a little bit of the dust. We were doing it 45 years -- so there is a lot for me to look at. But, you know what? I don't want to waffle too much. I want to play." Yet, Gibb's not willing to provide details on what he plans to play in concert. He's not a big fan of set lists posted on the Internet. "Everyone knows what I do," he says. "I don't want to tell everybody what I am going to perform -- it's sort of the curiosity factor.

 If I go to a concert, I don't want to know what is going to happen. I'm pretty much changing my set list every leg of this tour. You have to take a lesson from Mr. Springsteen ... where every show doesn't have to be the same, and you vary as much as you can each time you go onstage."

Gibb definitely has options, from a robust career. The Bee Gees formed in 1958, rose to fame in the '60s and became one of the world's biggest acts in the '70s, performing everything from pop and R&B to country and rock, selling more than 200 million records and earning a spot in the Rock and Rock Hall of Fame. Gibb also had an amazing career outside of the Bee Gees. His songs have been recorded by Elvis Presley, Barry Manilow, Tina Turner, Al Green and Janis Joplin. The peak of success came in the late '70s, when the Bee Gees pulled off the amazing feat of releasing six straight No. 1 hits: "How Deep Is Your Love," "Stayin' Alive," "Night Fever," "Too Much Heaven," "Tragedy" and "Love You Inside Out." "We never imagined we would have that kind of success," Gibb reflects.
"It was beyond our imagination to have six No. 1's in a row. It was just ridiculous. Yeah, we enjoyed it. It was like being on a magic carpet, being on a cloud."

Monday, May 26, 2014

Barry Gibb embarks on solo tour, celebrates the Bee Gees



arts & Enertaiment Music ,The Daily Sizzle - May 25, 2014 10:57

Barry Gibb embarks on solo tour, celebrates the Bee Gees


Barry Gibb brings his new solo Mythology Tour 2014 to Chicago on Tuesday. (Photo by Owen Sweeney/Invision/AP)
And then there was one.

For the Bee Gees, it wasn’t supposed to be a singular presence. Brothers Barry, and twins Maurice and Robin Gibb, had been performing as a trio since 1959.
It was their iconic three-part harmonies that landed them Grammys and an induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It was the stream of hits — “Stayin’ Alive,” “Jive Talkin’,” “I Started a Joke,” “Words,” and so many more — that ignited discos and concert halls for a generation of pop music fans. “Grease” was the word because of their songwriting skills.
But tragedy struck the Gibb family hard, starting with the death of youngest brother (and solo artist) Andy Gibb in 1988. The Bee Gees carried on, only to face more sadness with the sudden passing of twins Maurice in 2003 and Robin in 2012.
Barry Gibb says he found himself alone, depressed and a broken man. It was his wife Linda who finally got him to return to music, where he found healing and joy, even though the stage seemed a whole lot emptier without his siblings at his side.
Gibb kicked off his first-ever U.S. solo tour on May 15 in Boston, which concludes just five stops later next month at the famed Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles. In between, the “Mythology” tour (named for a the 2010 CD/DVD compilation of Bee Gees hits) comes to the United Center on Tuesday night.
In a phone conversation earlier this month, Gibb talked about all things Bee Gees — from the lives and deaths of his brothers, to finding the strength to return to music, and to that iconic falsetto voice of his that still serves him well.


Q. Was it difficult to embrace your music from a solo standpoint after the passing of Maurice and Robin?

A. I think each of us wanted to be a solo artist. But we knew we were the Bee Gees. It was the three of us. Before Mo passed I spent about eight years not doing very much because Robin and I just didn’t do very much together after that. Robin wanted a solo career, so Robin just went out on his own. I decided to do some solo shows here and there. I’d been doing [benefit] shows for diabetes research for 35 years now. Sometimes it was the three of us. Sometimes just me. So I was used to performing on my own as a solo artist. But it always came back to the three of us. I started writing songs when I was about 8. Mo and Ro joined when they were about 11 or 12. It was very collaborative for so long. I don’t really enjoy not seeing them on stage. I miss their faces and their harmonies. I truly miss them but I’ve got to keep moving forward.

Q. You only scheduled six shows for the tour. Why?

A. I think it’s cautionary. Everyone kept saying I have to do at least 10. I said let’s do four or six really solid shows and not overplay it. If we add dates, that’s wonderful. I don’t expect to be the Bee Gees out there; the audience shouldn’t expect that. I’ve been doing solo shows all my life in different ways. The message is simple: I love the fans. I love playing. I feel like a fish out of water when I’m not on the stage. It’s energy. I love the instant gratification. I don’t necessarily want to make records anymore that take three or six months to make. So here I am, like it or not.

Q. What’s it like being the only guy in the spotlight now?

A. It’s sort of like stepping off a cliff or jumping out of a plane without a parachute. I think it begins with self-doubt, a lot of self-doubt. But then you build and grow and the band gets better and better and you start to get braver. I started this whole tour idea with the fundamental reason being that I want to sing the songs I love, and not sing the songs that were difficult for me to handle. I’ll celebrate all my brothers, but I’ve got to sing the songs I sang. I don’t tread on Robin’s territory. I don’t try to sing the songs he sang. I sing the songs I sang. It’s a no-nonsense show. There will be videos. It’s a celebration.


Q. It’s still a family affair though, isn’t it?

A. Yes, my daughter is on the TelePrompTer. I can look to the right of the stage and see her. She’s looking after all the computer stuff. But she’s also my biggest critic. She has no doubt about her opinions. My son [Stephen] is on lead guitar and he’s also a great singer. And [Maurice’s daughter] Samantha also sings with me at one point.

Q. Tell me about releasing “Mythology.”

A. It was the first thing that happened creatively after losing Mo. It’s an all-brothers’ choice, including Andy. Andy’s wife came up with 21 songs. Mo’s wife came up with 21 songs. Robin and I came up with songs. It was as collaborative as it could be. There’s also our live concert from 1989; at that point we were a really good live band regardless of the charts or the hits.
 
Q. The Bee Gees were perhaps the most successful trio in pop music history. What was the “IT” factor you guys had?

A. When we were all around one microphone and we were looking into each others’ eyes, picking up on each others’ breaths — we were locked. We were one. The harmonies just flowed from that. We all had the same idiosyncracies.

Q. You collaborated with so many iconic artists over the years. Your favorites?

A. I think Barbra Streisand [“What Kind of Fool,” “Guilty”] was my favorite. She’s such an incredible artist. She’s like me — highly complex, short attention span. The pair of us would take hours to argue about stuff, then five minutes to sing it. Our heads don’t bang together well, but when they do, it’s a great experience. And Dolly Parton [“Islands in the Stream”] was instantly one of my favorites. This lady just walks up to a microphone and sings and it’s magic. Michael Jackson [“All In Your Name”] — it blew me away to work with him.

Q. Have you ever considered releasing a duets album?

A. It hasn’t been something that’s excited me. But I’ll tell you my dream is to work with Paul McCartney. I met recently met him backstage at “SNL” [in December 2013] for only the second time in 35 years. He came to see one of our shows in 1967. I thought it wasn’t a particularly good show that night. But at the end of it he just came up to us and said keep doing what you guys are doing. Then we met up again backstage at “SNL.” We talked about the ’60s and the naivete of it all, to go from being neighborhood kids to being world famous. The Beatles were only together for 10 years but they changed the world, they changed pop culture, they changed pop music. [The Bee Gees] were a small part in the culture change.

Q. But the Bee Gees solidified the disco age, and that was a huge music/pop culture shift.

A. I suppose that’s true. Who would have known that today the music of the late ’70s would still be interesting to people? It was 40 years ago and our music is still being played.

Q. Did you know your falsetto voice would help make you a very successful artist?

A. [Laughing] I never knew I had it until we were recording “Nights on Broadway” and the producer asked someone to go out and scream into the microphone. And that’s what I did, and this really high falsetto just came out. The same thing happened to Frankie Valli; he never knew his voice could do what it did.

Q. What music do you listen to these days?

A. I’m still a Beatles freak. I love Stevie Wonder. Bruno Mars. Lorde. I love Pavarotti. I love bluegrass music. These days I’m listening to Ricki Scaggs. I just love music in general.

Q. Your favorite Bee Gees song?

A. “How Deep Is Your Love.” Then it became “Immortality,” which Celine Dion recorded.
Q. Describe the Bee Gees in three words.

A. Persistent. Determined. Crazy.

qoutes of Andy Gibb

Songs don't just come out of air. They take time,but its good fun too. Maurice gave me
encouragement.


Before I was terrifies on stage. I only play guitar during the acoustic sings. After a while
you can elicit certain responses from the crowd , like Elvis.

Even my older brothers's early success 10 years ago, didn't change me since there was such
an age difference.

In 1973 we moved to the Britisch Isle of Man and I put my first band together for one year, named
Melody Fair.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

Samantha Gibb talks about her father Maurice Gibb

Samantha Gibb talks about her father Maurice Gibb



von Sharon Churcher, Mail on Sunday, 1. Januar 2006

Shuddering with fear, Samantha Gibb clung to her mother’s hand, watching her pop-star father stumble angrily around their new Florida mansion.

Bee Gee Maurice Gibb had told the little girl they had moved to America so he could leave behind the London Club scene he blamed for his wild drinking binges.

But as his rage intensified his daughter, then 11 years-old, immediately recognised the over powering smell on his breath – it was brandy.

Samantha recalls: “Mum and I had been out that night to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous family support group and the moment we came back into the house we could tell Dad had been drinking. He was walking round and round, and then he fell over. When he got up, he had blood on his hands.

“He’d just completely broken down. My mum told me and my brother. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving now.” When we came downstairs again, Dad had a gun and started shouting abuse and waving it around.

“My mum said, “Keep walking.” We just walked over to the car and left. But what was so scary was that the next day, he called my mum and said he didn’t remember anything that had happened.

“We agreed to meet him and he asked me to go upstairs with him to the bedroom. There, he got out the gun and said “Please throw this away.”’

The house set on Miami’s Millionaires’ Row, was just yards from the seashore. Samantha took the pistol down to the water’s edge and hurled it from the garden, overarm, as far as she could into Biscayne Bay.

She was relieved when it disappeared beneath the waves, but the violent confrontation was not so easily submerged and for years left her scarred by an unarticulated anger.

Samantha Gibb has always remained silent about her turbulent family life with her father, who for decades was part of the world famous supergroup of brothers the Bee Gees. Their extraordinary Seventies falsetto sound became the trademark of the disco scene thanks to the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. In all, the group sold 110 million records.

But only now, as the third anniversary looms of Maurice’s sudden death at the age of 53 on January 12, 2003, has Samantha, 25, finally agreed to talk about her life with the pop legend; about his struggle to cope with the fame and attention and about his addictive, self destructive personality threatened to drag her down with him before a remarkable reconciliation in recent years.

Until the terrifying episode with the gun, Maurice Gibb had been what Samantha terms a ‘controlled alcoholic’. But as the disco driven appeal of the Bee Gees started to wane, overtaken first by punk then by the music of the eighties, so his dependence on the bottle became more obvious and destructive to himself and those around him.

Samantha says: “Until that day my dad was never violent. He did get huffy but he was like Jekyll and Hyde. It took that incident to really shake him back to reality.” Maurice had developed an obsession with guns, amassing a vast collection including Lugers and antique Colts. But the day he threatened his own family with one was a turning point. Maurice acknowledged he needed help. He went into rehab, with the support of his brothers, and seemed to take the first steps on the road to recovery.

But the shadows cast by the emotional turmoil of years on the booze were long and Samantha was certainly affected. She dropped out school at 16 and started, like her father, to drink heavily and experiment with marijuana.

Speaking at her mother Yvonne’s stunning villa in Miami – overlooking the bay into which she hurled her father’s gun – she recalls how she struggled with the American education system after moving from London. She says “I hated the homecoming-queen routines and the proms. I just never fitted in. It was hard knowing whether people liked you for who you were or because you were a Bee Gee’s daughter.

“I was hanging out with people who were drinking too much and I found myself drinking a lot. I didn’t like it. I wanted to get out of that scene because I think that alcoholism is something that can be genetic – which would be dangerous for me.

“Dad and I had very similar personalities. I think that’s why I was the one in the family he trusted to take away the gun. We could look at each other and know what we were thinking without having to say anything.

“At first, when I found out about his drinking problem, I was angry. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t just have one beer and stop. I knew he and Mum were fighting because he was drinking.

“It all got so uncomfortable at home that I just wanted to hang out with friends and I became really distant from him. But after the gun episode, he tried to turn around his life and I started to see him as an amazing man. He went to AA meetings twice a day, even at Christmas.

“If he’d been alive this Christmas, we’d have started the day by unwrapping our presents I our stockings – “there’d be one hung for each of us – and then he’d go off to the AA centre where he volunteered to help homeless alcoholics. Every Christmas day he would make the mashed potatoes there.”

Then he would come home and carve the turkey. “We would put on the funny paper hats and pull crackers he shipped in every year from England” adds Samantha. “So he was really trying to turn things around – but the truth is that he would still slip off the wagon, especially when he’d go back on his many business trips to England. He was never comfortable there because that is where he started drinking a lot.

“Of all the brothers, he was the social one. He loved people. But then when he was down or there were problems in the band, the drink became a crutch.”

Samantha tells how although Maurice continually battled with his demons, he was able to help her deal with the problems she would encounter. She says: “There was a period when I could have ended up the same way. But Dad had told me he never wanted me to lie if it happened to me. So when one day he asked me if I had started drinking or doing drugs, I said I’d tried them but I was going to stop.”

In her late teens they even attended therapy together. She says: “I always remember going to one of my first AA meetings with him. He drove us in his hew Jaguar and we parked it in this dingy parking lot and as we were walking in, a homeless man recognised him.”

My Dad put his arms around him and we all walked into the room together. “So when people ask me what my dad was like I say, “When he was young he would enjoy going to Tramps nightclub in London and having a drink with John Lennon or Price Charles.

“Later in life, he enjoyed having a glass of water with a homeless man”.’

Maurice was a high spending practical joke and had a reputation to live up to. There were wild stories of him owning so many Aston Martins that he drove one of them off a pier and left it in the water.

But, says Samantha – who accompanied the Bee Gees on some of their early world tours – “He was always a great dad. There were fun times and a lot of craziness too.

“He would play those really inappropriate jokes. One time a guy came in to audition as a keyboard player and the Bee Gees all sat watching him play and then after he tried out, my dad told him: “Drop your pants and turn round!” – and he did!”

She believes that behind the humorous façade, her father was deeply scarred by his own childhood. By the time Maurice and twin brother Robin were eight, and older brother Barry 11, they were already accomplished performers.

In 1958 their father Hugh moved the family from Manchester to Australia hoping for a better future for them and put the children on the stage. By 1964, they were known as Australia’s Beatles. They had their own TV show and a No 1 hit. They returned to England in 1967 to pursue their musical dream and their career took off.

But Maurice told his daughter that all the time he felt like a servant. She says: “His father was a very hard man. They had to work to make money to keep the family. Dad once said to me, “Every single day for the rest of my life, I will tell you that I love you because my father never did that for me.”’

Maurice found it hard to cope with fame. He married Lulu in 1969 (famously, they met in the BBC canteen during Top Of The Pops show) but they split in 1973. The marriage is said to have been wrecked by his battle with alcoholism, which at the time was kept secret. Then, in 1975, he married Yvonne, the manager of a steak restaurant in Yorkshire. They had two children, Adam, now 29 and studying to be a film director, and Samantha.

Despite all the suffering to which Maurice subjected Yvonne, she is still deeply in love with him as she was in their wedding day. Showing me the memorabilia that fills the villa – the alls of the grand staircase dripping with gold and platinum discs, the display case of awards for his contribution to British music and the racks holding his beloved guitars – her eyes frequently well with tears. Yvonne, in her first full interview since her husband’s death, says “Maurice was drinking before we had the children. I’d drink to keep up with him. He knew he had a problem. He tried to stop for years.

“Being an alcoholic in England was a stigma. Coming here, he felt he could get away from that and the culture of going to clubs and pubs.”

She pauses in front of an elaborate Christmas floral arrangement. Behind it, there is a photograph of Maurice in one of the signature hats that he wore to hide his prematurely thinning hair. He gazes at his handsome young brother, Andy, who is leaning on his shoulder.

Andy tried to become a solo artist but, dwarfed in industry legend by his brothers who wrote and performed more than 50 worldwide hits, he couldn’t cope and became a cocaine addict. He died of an overdose in 1988 five days after his 30th birthday. Yvonne says: “Maurice tried to help Andy but Andy couldn’t be helped.”

Maurice and Yvonne doted on their children but she was shocked when Samantha began to show signs of the family talent.

She recalls: “I knew Sam was talented by the time she was five. She started miming Boys Do Fall In Love and her nanny videoed her. I said, “Oh my. She’s trouble – another performer.”’

By 11, Samantha was performing with her first band, the all girl China Dolls. With his career on the wane, Maurice began giving his daughter singing lessons, honing a sensual and self-assured voice that some critics compare with the young Madonna’s.

Now Samantha’s career as a singer is about to take off and, in a recording studio at the Gibb villa, she is rehearsing tracks for her first album, which is due within the next 12 months.

It has been designed as a tribute to her father by Robin, who will sing on it with Samantha in a dazzling line up that also includes Paul McCartney, rapper Snoop Dogg and Sheryl Crow. But her proudest moment, she says, will be later this year, when she appears with a band she has founded at a spectacular Maurice Gibb memorial concert in New York’s Central Park. She says: “The band is called MEG, for Dad’s initials, Maurice Ernest Gibb. If it weren’t for my dad, none of this would have happened. I owe everything to him.”

Maurice’s final battle started on January 8, 2003, in Florida, during lunch at a diner, when he doubled up in pain with what he thought was indigestion. Yvonne and Samantha declined to comment last night on whether they are pursuing a reported plan to sue the Miami hospital where his intestine burst after doctors failed to detect that he had a twisted bowel. His children and wife were at his bedside when he died.

Samantha says: “We never imagined he would die. He had fought his biggest battle. He was working. He was in his prime. Now it’s very tough. Every time we do anything as a family, we know Dad should be there.

“But he always told us, “Live life fully. You’re born, you pass away, and when that happens to me, don’t be sad.” He believed a person’s spirit is always there.

“When I go on stage at Central Park, I will talk to him. I’ll tell him, “You gave me my voice, now help me show people what I am capable of doing.”’

Maurice Gibb / A little 'Jive Talkin' ' with a Bee Gee

Maurice Gibb / A little 'Jive Talkin' ' with a Bee Gee



Published 4:00 am, Sunday, January 27, 2002
 
Conclusive evidence that the Bee Gees are indestructible: "Their Greatest Hits," the double-disc set released recently, charts the progress of the English threesome over five decades and countless trends in popular music. Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb were on top of each movement, scoring hits with everything from the folkie jangle of "I Started a Joke" in 1968 through the dance floor royal flush that was the "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack in 1977,
on to last year's light- rock staple "This Is Where I Came In." Through it all, the brothers proved impervious to death, addiction and raging egomania. They even survived a close association with John Lennon, as Maurice, 51, recounts.
Q: People don't realize the Bee Gees were major players in the early days.
 
A: Oh, yeah. You've got to remember we were living in Australia, so far away from it all. Three months before we got back to England, I was walking down the street in Sydney and I saw this Beatles fan club book, and I thought, "Wow, look at the gear, look at the boots, look at the guitars." All this stuff. Two months after coming back to England I was partying with them and hanging out with them in their inner circle. We had the same manager. It was totally unbelievable. The first words John Lennon ever said to me were, "Scotch and Coke, isn't it?" If he would have offered me cyanide I would have drunk it. They had just come from the photo shoot for the "Sgt. Pepper" album cover, so they were still in the full uniforms and glasses and all that stuff. I couldn't believe it was him at first. That was my first scotch and Coke.
Q: So Lennon led you down the path of destruction?
A: Out of the three brothers, I turned out to be the big drinker. But in those days everybody used to just hang out. I used to be married to this girl singer Lulu. So at 2 or 3 in the morning we'd hear the door knock and it would be David Bowie  and Dudley Moore and all these other wonderful people. We'd go down in our dressing gowns and get the bar open, put some music on and have a good time. Or we would go over to the studio where Ringo Starr was hanging out and we'd all jam. And then Jimmy Page  and Robert Plant  would drop by. Everybody mixed.
Q: You were also blowing through a lot of cash at this point, right?
A: We never even thought about money. When we had it, we just blew it. I had six Rolls-Royces and eight Aston Martins by the time I was 21. I was invincible in those days. It was that age period when you start discovering new things. I learned more by the time I was 19 than by the time I was 40. It was quite an experience.
Q: Were you totally over it by the time the whole disco thing hit?
A: You've got to remember, we weren't doing disco. To us, KC & the Sunshine Band and Donna Summer and the Village People made party disco music, which is all good fun. KC, to me, is the king of disco. This man was doing it long before anybody else.
Q: You're officially giving him the title?
A: Yes. What we were doing was New York music. It was R&B. It was what was going on in the underground -- sensual Marvin Gaye  black soulful R&B is the best way to describe it.
Q: So that's where the falsettos came from?
A: We got the falsetto thing from the Stylistics. It was very sensual. Barry heard "Betcha by Golly Wow" and decided to give it a go on "Nights on Broadway." So I kicked him you-know-where as hard as I could and he just started screaming. And then he realized he could sing like that as well. Everyone was doing falsettos -- the Four Seasons the Beach Boys but not like the R&B groups we liked. None of our music was written for "Saturday Night Fever." It just happened to fit amazingly well. We were just told it was about a guy who works in a paint store, blows his wages partying and wins a dance competition. That was how it was presented to us, and it sounded brilliant. No one even knew it was a disco film.
Q: And then everything went coconuts.
A: A lot of people would love to have a "Fever" in their career. It blew us away. Then we got crucified for it. And now we get respect for it.
Q: How bad was the comedown?
A: Just like everything, you hit a saturation point. People started getting resentful because we were too successful. So we sort of backed away from the spotlight and started producing.
Q: And then you became sober. What changed?
A: Everything changed because all of a sudden I had choices. I didn't have to be a s-- head anymore. I was never violent, but I was a son of a bitch. I got very nasty. It was hurting everybody. I've been 11 years sober now.
Q: You guys are the comeback masters.
A: We're just three little persistent bastards who want to be as big as the Beatles That's been our motto since we started

Former Bee Gees chauffeur tells of sadness at death of Robin Gibb

Former Bee Gees chauffeur tells of sadness at death of Robin Gibb

Dorset Echo: The Bee Gees, from left, Maurice, Robin and Barry Gibb The Bee Gees, from left, Maurice, Robin and Barry Gibb                     
                 
THE Dorset man who chauffeured the Bees Gees for 35 years has spoken of his sadness at the death of Robin Gibb.
Brian Sanders, 67, said Robin was a genuinely lovely man and would be sadly missed.
Mr Sanders, from Bridport, who drove the superstar group all through their heyday, said: “I used to drive them on all their tours and gigs and airport runs.
“It was great fun. They were absolutely fabulous blokes, they really were and I am not just saying that because a couple of them have died.
“Robin was an absolutely lovely bloke.
“He had the time of day for anybody. He was a very knowledgeable bloke.
“He would never not sign an autograph but he didn’t flaunt himself.”
Mr Sanders became such a close friend he and his family were always on the guest list for the band’s birthday, Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties, even Barry Gibb’s 50th.
He also visited the Barry’s house in Miami a few times with his son Dean.
He added: “My son Dean ended up driving them when I retired about 10 years ago and he was five when I started driving for them.”
Mr Sanders was always a fan of the Bee Gees – and that’s how he got the job.
He used to drive Barry’s wife Linda’s parents and they got talking because they thought he looked a bit like Barry as he had a beard and quite long hair at the time.
He confessed to being a big fan even though he had no idea the couple he was driving were connected to the band who made Saturday Night Fever the biggest selling film soundtrack of all time. He added: “I have watched them all through their career and it is very sad that Robin has lost his fight with cancer. He really had the common touch.
“They were superstars but could just mix with anybody.
“They didn’t walk around saying ‘look at us we are superstars’ they kept quite a low profile when they come through airports and things.

“They were fun loving and always up for a laugh although Robin was teetotal.”
He also used to take Robin’s children Spencer and Melissa to school when they lived in Esher.
“He will be sadly missed by me especially,” said Mr Sanders.

The Bee Gees are not Mr Sanders’s only claim to fame – he used to drive George Harrison until he died.
Other stars he chauffered include Eric Clapton.
“I have been driving pop stars since I was 26,” he said.

Barry Gibb tells of the guilt, remorse and loneliness of being the last of the Bee Gees

By Shanice Brown 4-7-2013

The first time Barry Gibb went on stage to perform solo as the last surviving Bee Gee, he was urged on by his wife Linda. She told him to stop moping over the death of his brothers, get off his backside and make music again.   
Even so, it was a lonely moment. ‘The realisation that my brothers — first Maurice and now Robin — weren’t standing next to me any more made me feel pretty isolated,’ he says.
‘When I looked left or right, they weren’t there with me.
Jive talking: Robin, Maurice and Barry Gibb (left to right) in 1978. Barry has an abiding sadness that his relationship with Maurice and Robin deteriorated to the point where he feels they were no longer friendsJive talking: Robin, Maurice and Barry Gibb (left to right) in 1978. Barry has an abiding sadness that his relationship with Maurice and Robin deteriorated to the point where he feels they were no longer friends
‘Maurice’s death in 2003 and Robin’s last year had been a huge trauma for me and everyone in our family. Before that, in 1988, we’d lost our kid brother Andy, who had his own solo career, and my father, Hugh, died soon after.
‘Robin’s much more recent passing had made me depressed, and there were times when I’d felt that nothing was worthwhile any more.
‘But getting back to performing in Australia earlier this year — thanks to Linda giving me a metaphorical kicking — turned out to be the tonic I needed.’
His sense of loss was eased, too, by inviting his guitarist son Stephen and Maurice’s singer daughter Sami on the tour, to keep it a family affair.
‘Now it has begun to feel like the sun has finally come out again,’ Barry tells me when we meet at his magnificent nine-bedroom mansion in Beaconsfield, set behind iron gates in 90 acres of Buckinghamshire countryside.
He and his Scots-born wife Linda — a former Miss Edinburgh — had flown in from their main home in Miami for Barry to receive a lifetime achievement honour for his services to music. It is his first visit here since Robin’s funeral in June last year.
‘I feel good — a lot better than I did this time last year with all the stress over Robin,’ he says.
At that time, his grief had threatened to engulf him.
‘We all lose someone and you have to deal with it and grow from it in some way,’ he says. ‘My way of handling it is to go back on stage.’
For Barry, it is an abiding sadness that in their final years his relationship with Maurice and Robin had deteriorated to the point where he feels they were no longer friends.
Going solo: Barry Gibb, now aged 66, performs at the Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne, Australia, in FebruaryGoing solo: Barry Gibb, now aged 66, performs at the Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne, Australia, in February
‘You see, it wasn’t just the loss of my brothers, it was the fact we didn’t really get on. And so I’ve lost all of my brothers without being friends with them.
‘When Maurice passed, Robin and I just didn’t feel like the Bee Gees anymore, because the Bee Gees were the three of us.
‘So while Robin went around saying “I’ll always be a Bee Gee”, he didn’t really want that: he wanted to be Robin Gibb, solo artist. Deep inside, I think that was so. That was the competition.’
Sibling: Barry realised that, as brothers, he and Robin (pictured) were becoming more distant from each otherSibling: Barry realised that, as brothers, he and Robin (pictured) were becoming more distant from each other
Barry realised that, as brothers, he and Robin were becoming more distant from each other.
‘During the last five years, Robin and I could not connect in any way. A similar situation, I can imagine, would probably be Lennon and McCartney. That same kind of distance occurred between them. The fact that you couldn’t get over obstacles or issues in your life.
‘What drove me down was that we didn’t get a chance to really say goodbye. The only time I felt we made up was when I kissed Robin on the head the last time I saw him before he died.
‘I didn’t get to see Andy before he died, and I never got to Maurice before he died. Mo died in two days, so that was very quick and a great shock to everyone.
‘Robin’s process took two years. I won’t go that way. If something like that is ever diagnosed with me, I’ll find the funniest, most humorous way of checking out. Absolutely I will not be lying in a bed stuck on life support.
‘So when Robin died, I felt all those things: guilt, remorse, regret.
‘There was so much more to us, but we didn’t see it. There was so much more life in us that we didn’t attempt. So much neurosis that we could have avoided between us all. Because everyone wanted to be the individual star. And we never knew what we were.’
Barry, 66, with his trademark shoulder-length hair turned silver-grey, says that he always thought Robin knew he was dying, even though he insisted that he had beaten liver and colon cancer. 
‘I didn’t realise Robin was seriously ill for about a year, when I began to see the pictures of him in the paper. I thought something’s wrong here — but I couldn’t get any answers out of anyone.  
Family: Barry (centre) and his wife Linda (centre left) pose with three of their five children, son Ashley (left), daughter Alexandra (second right) and son Stephen (right) in Beverly Hills, California, in May 2007Family: Barry (centre) and his wife Linda (centre left) pose with three of their five children, son Ashley (left), daughter Alexandra (second right) and son Stephen (right) in Beverly Hills, California, in May 2007
‘No one called from his house. I’d probably do the same thing — who wants to be thought of as an invalid?
‘I don’t think they knew how serious it was going to become, but I think they knew two years before, or a year at least, before I knew.
‘Dwina [Robin’s wife] started to tell us things gradually, and about six months before Robin passed she began to be very open with us.
‘We were hearing stories: the fact he didn’t want to go into hospital, that he didn’t want to have chemo. All the signs that you know something’s really wrong.
'Maurice’s death in 2003 and Robin’s last year had been a huge trauma for me and everyone in our family. Before that, in 1988, we’d lost our kid brother Andy, who had his own solo career, and my father, Hugh, died soon after'
Barry Gibb
‘I showed my doctor in Miami a newspaper picture of Robin and he took one look and said: “You’ve got to go and see your brother.” I asked him for a prognosis because no one in England would give me one, and he said: “Three to six months. Go as soon as you can.”
‘We flew over to see him. He was extremely weak but he seemed OK otherwise. We laughed about a lot of things and we sort of made up. At least we were together, and we were talking to each other and laughing.
'When we left, he stood outside to see us off. It was freezing. My reaction was: “Go inside — you have no immune system.” But everyone was standing out there with him.
‘I said: “Get him inside. If he catches a cold, that’s the end of it.” And he did, in fact, get pneumonia.  
‘The last time when I came over to see him, just before he died, he was unable to speak to me because he had an oxygen mask and was drifting in and out of consciousness. But I always got the familiar thumbs-up from him.’
During one visit, while Robin was in a coma, Barry sang a song that he had written for him called The End Of The Rainbow.
‘He didn’t open his eyes, but I did get a response.’ Now, he intends to include the song in his new album. When Robin Gibb’s classical composition, the Titanic Requiem, commemorating the centenary of the ship’s sinking, was performed with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, Robin’s wife Dwina and son R-J attended, but Barry stayed at his brother’s bedside.
Couple: Barry is pictured with his Scots-born wife Linda - a former Miss Edinburgh - in September 1970Couple: Barry is pictured with his Scots-born wife Linda - a former Miss Edinburgh - in September 1970
‘I couldn’t go — it was too much for me,’ says Barry. ‘Titanic was a tragedy in which 1,500 people died and I couldn’t watch that when my own brother was dying. It was just something I couldn’t handle.’
Barry and Linda were back home in Miami when the call came that Robin had died.
‘We’d had to leave Rob in hospital two days before, because our son Travis and his wife Stacy were about to have our granddaughter, Taylor. They needed our support — the attention of Mum and Dad. So,  from birth to death. It was such a dichotomy.’
Yet only two months earlier, he had been hoping that he and Robin would record together again.
Mourning: Barry kisses a rose during the funeral of his brother Robin at St Mary's Church in Thame, Oxfordshire, in June 2012Mourning: Barry kisses a rose during the funeral of his brother Robin at St Mary's Church in Thame, Oxfordshire, in June 2012
‘We were going to, but neither of us really felt like we did when there were the three of us. It just didn’t get any further. It was on, then off, then on again . . .
‘We had different philosophies in life. I was relaxed and felt that whatever I was doing was OK.
‘Robin wanted to do more and needed recognition. I didn’t feel there was anything to prove any more, but Robin was very driven.’
The whole distressing experience of losing his brothers has made Barry very conscious of his own health.
‘I don’t eat red meat and I’ve cut out dairy products,’ he says. ‘I watched my brothers over the years, beating themselves up, for want of a better term. In various ways, we all did.’
Through drink and drugs? ‘Whatever, yeah. We never saw the hard stuff that other groups maybe got into.
‘But we saw enough of the things you can acquire every day to make ourselves more creative. I watched that go on constantly with all three of my brothers.’
As the eldest Bee Gee, Barry saw his role as the protector and sorted out many things for them during their career, even getting all their song publishing rights and master recordings returned to them.
‘Maurice was the extrovert, Robin was the worrier — and he worried a lot. My job was to make sure we got paid and that we were all there and ready to perform.
Brothers: Maurice, Barry and Robin Gibb (left to right) pose for a photograph in October 1990. Barry won't be involved in the organisation of Robin's memorial service, being planned at St Paul's Cathedral this yearBrothers: Maurice, Barry and Robin Gibb (left to right) pose for a photograph in October 1990. Barry won't be involved in the organisation of Robin's memorial service, being planned at St Paul's Cathedral this year
‘I used to say: “For God’s sake, tell Robin to do his hair.” Or “Tell Robin  to polish his shoes.”  
‘When we were younger, it was a radical competition between us. Who would be the most popular, who got the spotlight. It happens in every group — and we were no exception.
‘What I’ve since learned about life is to laugh at everything. See through it all. Don’t let your ego be in charge.’
Barry tells me he was especially close to his youngest brother, Andy, who was a solo singer and died aged 30 from a heart condition.
‘We were like twins,’ he says. ‘Maurice and Robin were the real twins, but Andy and I were like twins, even though he was the youngest and I was the eldest. We sort of looked alike, and even had the same birthmark.
'When we were younger, it was a radical competition between us. Who would be the most popular, who got the spotlight. It happens in every group — and we were no exception'
Barry Gibb
‘We sang alike. We were very similar people. We were the only two that played tennis. Maurice and Robin didn’t play, but Andy and I would play just about every day.
‘I could see something was wrong with him because he would get very, very red in the face.
‘I used to worry about that and say: “Maybe you shouldn’t play so much, Andy.”
‘So there was something going on with his heart. But over the years, his own [drink and drug] habits had caught up with him.’
Andy had a string of girlfriends, including Victoria Principal, star of the soap opera Dallas.
After going through a wild time as a singer who’d had early success, he moved to Miami to be near his mother and brother Barry.    
‘By then, he was really cleaning up his act — and I was keeping him on the clean side of life. He’d just got married, too. [His wife Kim and daughter Peta now live in Australia.]
‘I lost my best friend when I lost Andy. And I believe the shock of losing him is what killed my father, because he went downhill and soon after died from a heart attack.
‘Mum, Dad and I all tried to help Andy, because we were the closest to him. My mother, Barbara, was with Andy when he died at Robin’s house. She was watching Andy declining, the whole time feeling helpless. 
Proud: The two surviving Bee Gees members as of May 2004, Robin (left) and Barry (right), hold their CBEs with Adam Gibb who received one on behalf of his father, the late Maurice, at Buckingham Palace in LondonProud: The two surviving Bee Gees members as of May 2004, Robin (left) and Barry (right), hold their CBEs with Adam Gibb who received one on behalf of his father, the late Maurice, at Buckingham Palace in London
‘Now I’m on my own, so I’ve got to make it on my own. I feel as if I’m a piece of a puzzle, or a cog in a machine, and that it’s for the betterment of everyone to do just what I do.
‘And then I look at my mum. At 93 and reliant on a wheelchair to get around, she’s despondent and still hasn’t got over any of it. So I feel for her — I know it’s worse for her than it is for me.’
Remaining: Barry attends the Nordoff Robbins Silver Clef Awards at a Hilton in London last monthRemaining: Barry attends the Nordoff Robbins Silver Clef Awards at a Hilton in London last month
Barry’s lifetime achievement honour, from the Nordoff Robbins music charity’s 02 Silver Clef Awards, has helped to rekindle his enthusiasm.
‘Inside me, I’ve found the hunger to be on the stage again — like I did when I was a child. Music has been therapy. I didn’t go and see a psychiatrist or anyone for help. I have dealt with it myself, through music.’ His shows, the Mythology Tour, backed by a ten-piece band, were a huge success, with six nights in Australia. This autumn, he is coming to Britain and Ireland.
‘Making records has become a bit of a bore because of having to spend hours in the studio. For me, performing is best,’ he says.
‘On stage, I’m not singing the songs that Robin sang. I won’t encroach on his territory. I’m not going to try to do anything that Rob did, or Maurice or Andy. I’ll only do the songs I was instrumental in creating or that we collaborated on together.’
Nor will Barry be involved in the organisation of Robin’s memorial service, being planned by Dwina and R-J at St Paul’s Cathedral this year.
‘No, I can’t do that, because for me the grieving is over,’ he says. ‘It would throw me back into that dark place again.’ He is leaving it to Robin’s close family, ‘or whoever really feels they have to do that’.
He adds: ‘Robin is always with me. I don’t need to stand in a church or be in some place where there’s a ritual.’
Inevitably, though, he has been reflecting on his own mortality.
‘I don’t have any fear of death: it could just as well be tomorrow.
‘Don’t plan for the next five years: plan to get up in the morning. And that’s the lesson for me. That it can all disappear just like that.’

'It was a tough upbringing': As a boy, I felt like an orphan, says Barry

Barry’s sense of loneliness may date back to when he was five years old and the family split up temporarily. ‘We left the Isle of Man to move to Manchester, but we had nowhere where we could all live together,’ he says.
‘Mum took Maurice, Robin and our sister Lesley to her sister’s, and Dad took me, alone, to his house. I never understood why it was necessary for me to be isolated like that. I even spent Christmas on my own.
‘Not that it was a new experience. When I was two, I’d been badly scalded and spent two years in hospital, never speaking because I had nothing to say and feeling like an orphan.
In tune: Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb (left to right) perform in 1959. Barry says his sense of loneliness may date back to when he was five years old and the family split up temporarilyIn tune: Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb (left to right) perform in 1959. Barry says his sense of loneliness may date back to when he was five years old and the family split up temporarily
‘Dad used to hit us, and at school I was verbally abused by the headmaster, so I played truant.
‘It was a tough upbringing — but it wasn’t as tough as Michael Jackson’s. He told me some stories that would give you the horrors.’
Jackson spent a week with Barry and Linda at their Miami home.
‘The strange thing about Michael was that even at home just watching TV, he was dressed as if he was going on stage. The braids and the shades and make-up. The full thing.

‘He looked fantastic. But I could see that he wasn’t entirely with us. He went to my children’s assembly at school wearing his full regalia. We said: “Michael, you can’t do this. Why are you wearing sunglasses?”
He said: “But I can’t go
 out without sunglasses on!”’ -
 

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Drummer Beegees in movie

ANOTHER vintage movie will be screened at the Fraser Coast libraries, this time the 1956 Australian film Smiley.
Councillor George Seymour said the film was based on the 1946 novel of the same name by Moore Raymond.
More than 2000 boys auditioned for the lead role, which eventually went to Colin Petersen, a nine-year-old from Kingaroy.
Colin later became the drummer in the Bee Gees, and the first non-Gibb brother in the band



Barry Gibb Jones Beach 5.23.14

 
 

Barry Gibb's grand Nikon at Jones Beach Theater

Barry Gibb's grand Nikon at Jones Beach Theater opening

Barry Gibb takes the stage at the Nikon
Barry Gibb takes the stage at the Nikon Theater at Jones Beach in Wantagh on Friday, May 23, 2014. (Credit: Bruce Gilbert)
 
 
                   
Barry Gibb’s show at Nikon at Jones Beach Theater last night featured a spectacular special effect that will likely never be duplicated on the rest of his “Mythology” tour.
During the lovely disco-era ballad “How Deep Is Your Love” – just as he reached the famous line “I feel you touch me in the pouring rain” – it began to drizzle. Lucky for the crowd at Nikon at Jones Beach Theater’s opening night, the pouring rain held off until near the end of the show, but the drizzle actually magnified the emotion of Gibb’s heartfelt tribute to his brother Andy, who died in 1988, and his twin brothers in the Bee Gees, Maurice and Robin, who died in 2003 and 2012, respectively.

Often throughout the two-hour show, Gibb looked choked up or on the verge of tears as he offered remembrances of his brothers. “I miss my brothers,” he said before launching into the powerful ballad “Immortality,” which the Bee Gees wrote for Celine Dion. But that was clear practically from the moment he took the stage.

Though Gibb was always the lead singer of the Bee Gees, a major part of the group’s charm was wrapped up in the brothers’ memorable harmonies. It’s easy to see why the “Mythology” tour is Gibb’s first solo tour and why he was hesitant to launch it.

Even with the help of three backing singers – including the impressive Beth Cohen, who handled the Barbra Streisand parts of “Guilty” and “Woman in Love” – Gibb’s solo vocals, as surprisingly well-preserved as they were, only underscored what was missing. In older songs like “To Love Somebody” and “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You,” the brothers’ harmonies were so important to the sound that Gibb singing them alone changes their feel, making them feel more desperate and lonely.
That’s not to say Gibb’s show is a downer. After all, he and his brothers brought disco to the mainstream, making showy choreography and line dancing to “Night Fever” and “Stayin’ Alive” staples of wedding receptions and bar mitzvahs around the world for generations. Gibb was at his best with the dance numbers, with the opener “Jive Talkin’” and “Nights on Broadway” holding up especially well nearly four decades later, as he effortlessly went for the falsettos and the breathy accents that are his distinctive trademark.

However, it was his cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire,” a response to Springsteen’s decision to tackle “Stayin’ Alive” at his recent concerts in Australia, that offered a glimpse at what may be next for the 67-year-old. His warm delivery and powerful presence made the song his, showing that Gibb is a viable star for the future, not one simply reliving his past – no matter how thrilling it was.

SETLIST: Jive Talkin’ / You Should Be Dancing / Lonely Days / Our Love (Don’t Throw It All Away) / To Love Somebody / How Can You Mend a Broken Heart / Stayin’ Alive / How Deep Is Your Love / On Time / I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You / In the Morning / New York Mining Disaster 1941 / Run to Me / I’m on Fire / Spirits (Having Flown) / With the Sun in My Eyes / I Started a Joke / Spicks and Specks / One / Islands in the Stream / Guilty / Woman in Love / Nights on Broadway / Night Fever>More Than a Woman / Grease / Immortality // ENCORE: Words / Tragedy