All language subtitles for The.Bee.Gees.How.Can.You.Mend.a.Broken.Heart.2020.720p.WEBRip.800MB.x264-GalaxyRG

Okay, fellas, when you're ready.

Okay, fellas, get back in line.

How did you people get
back here?

Come on. Come on.
Sorry.

Excuse me.
Have you got a pen?

I'm sorry,
you can't come in here.

- Get him out of here.
- You can't come in here.

What are you doing?
This is a private session!

Thank you.

Thank you very, very much.
Good evening to all of you.

Thank you.

I am beginning
to recognize the fact

that nothing is true.

Nothing.

It's all down to perception.

My immediate family is gone.

But that's life.

It's the same thing
with every family,

that someone will be left
in the end.

And this time of life,

I have fantastic memories,

but everybody's memory
is different,

so they're just my memories,
you know?

I know that Maurice
and Robin would've had

a different kind of memory.

I remember Barry saying
that one day,

we're gonna be really famous.

And we said, "Oh, yeah."
You know, "Whatever you say."

He's the big brother, you know.

We kind of saw ourselves
as triplets

rather than me and Maurice
being twins,

and we always had
the same goals growing up

that it became impossible
to see each other

as normal brothers.

My ninth Christmas,

there was an acoustic guitar
at the end of my bed,

and Robin and Maurice started
to collaborate

and pretend to sing with me,

and we started doing gigs
as a teenage act.

We emigrated as a whole family

from England to Australia.

All three of us had
the same understanding

that we were going to be famous

come hell or high water.

Our father, he had his own band,

but it didn't work out,
so he became our manager,

and it was a team.

There was us three and Dad.

And Mum, of course.

My mother,
she was always the person

who kept the calm
between Dad and us.

Very strong, very loyal.

The Beatles have just arrived

for the first time
in our country.

When the Beatles came
on the scene,

it was like, "That's what
we've been trying to do."

They turned pop music
into an art form,

and they were singing
three-part harmony

like we did.

So we made up our own minds

that we were going back to be
part of the British Invasion.

Making music was
what we wanted to do

for the rest of our lives,

so we thought, you know,
whatever's going to happen,

we'll make happen.

Before we left Australia,

we did an album
called "Spicks and Specks,"

and they became our best demos.

Dad and I did the rounds,

met with industry people,

and as we sat
in everyone's office,

they would say the same thing:

"No, no, I'm sorry, lads.
We can't help you."

My dad, he was very,
you know, "We gotta do this."

Because my dad was really
the most ambitious man,

I think, in the Gibb clan.

We loved the Beatles,

so Dad had sent this stuff
to NEMS,

the Brian Epstein offices.

Brian Epstein,
the man who built the Beatles

into a cult,

is now as well-known
as they are.

I was doing Brian's mail
most of the time.

There was a letter by the father

of these three handsome,
cute guys

who were very proactive
and who'd had some success.

They came from Manchester,

but they were writing
from Australia.

I showed it to him.

Brian said, "Yeah, yeah.
That's very nice. No, nice."

He said,
"Well, give it to Robert."

"He's Australian

and he's good
at these kind of things."

Somebody sent you a tape

of these boys from Australia?

Yes, they did.

Oh.

I heard it, and I was
absolutely astounded.

It was the most brilliant
harmony singing

and composing I'd ever heard.

At the time,
Robert was my manager.

Cream was signed to Robert

on what I thought
was an exclusive deal.

I was surprised that
other bands were coming in.

Robert was so eccentric.

I mean, absolutely bonkers.

He was Australian, but he spoke
like an English gentleman,

and he would wear
these really big, flashy ties,

and he had a combover,
and it was all...

Who is this guy?

Whoever this man was,
he really believed in us.

He was almost like a parent.

You can't deny talent,

and the talent was so obvious.

Somebody mentioned that
the Bee Gees were in town.

They were good friends of mine
from Australia.

So I phoned them up.

I said, "Is Maurice there, then?"

Put Maurice on."

He said, "We've being signed up"

"by this guy
called Robert Stigwood.

"We're doing this recording.

Why don't you come
and play guitar?"

Caught a train into London
and found IBC Studios.

So there they were.

There were Barry, Robin,
and Maurice

and the drummer, Colin Petersen.

That night,

my life changed completely.

Completely.

The first evening
we were in there,

there was a blackout.

So while we were waiting
for the power to come back on,

we just sat on the steps,

and Barry was playing
his guitar.

It was so echoey.

I mean, it was a wonderful echo
in this place.

There we were in the dark.

The first thought was,
"In the event

of something happening to me."

And we thought, "Well,
what could come from that?"

We made believe
we were in a mine.

Because it was gonna be
our first single,

we wanted a title
that captured the imagination,

that got people's attention.

And "New York Mining
Disaster" was born then.

We had our first hit record
within the first five months

of being in England.

The thrill was that it did
the same thing in America.

We thought that we might get
a hit in England,

but we never dreamed
that we might get a hit

in England and America as well.

So I came over
to the United States

to make a record deal for them.

I made a decision to place
the group with Atlantic.

He said, "I'm taking you
to meet Ahmet Ertegun"

and to get you into
the American music scene."

Otis Redding was playing
at the Apollo.

Ahmet Ertegun
and Robert Stigwood

took me down there to see Otis.

And it was amazing.

Soul has always had
a special place

in the Bee Gees' music.

We've always been influenced
by Black music.

Smokey Robinson, Motown,

all that was a big influence
on us.

Robert introduced us.

He said, "I want you to write
a song for Otis Redding."

"To Love Somebody" was born
that night.

But unfortunately,

Otis never got to record
the song.

I mean, I must have always known

"To Love Somebody,"

'cause that song is just,
like, in the ether.

Those lyrics, "There's
a certain kind of light"

that never shone on me,"

like, I don't even know
if he's talking about himself,

but there was some point
where I got obsessed,

like, tracking down
every cover version,

like Nina Simone, the Animals.

Some great singers have sung
that song, obviously,

but his vocal, when he sings it,

I can still get chills
thinking about it.

I just remember
this music being on,

and I'm like, "Who's this?"

And, "Why, it's the Bee Gees."

And I was like, "The Bee Gees?"

It actually blew my mind.

Those early records sound like
the Beatles' early records.

It's classic '60s guitar
pop sound,

but then it had another thing
going on.

You've got the brothers singing,

and when you've got
brothers singing,

it's like an instrument
that nobody else can buy.

You can't go buy that sound
in a shop.

You can buy
a Fender Stratocaster

and put it through a VOX amp
and sound like Buddy Holly.

You can't sing
like the Bee Gees,

because when you've got

family members singing together,

it's unique.

It's the blend of the tones
of each brother.

And Robin had this wonderful,
tear-jerking voice.

Robin was a joyous kid.

Hysterically funny.

He took great joy
in being on television.

This was the funniest kid
you could ever meet.

My father always used
to call him the nanny goat.

'Cause Robin would go...

He'd be rehearsing
in the back of the car,

you know, doing all these phases

And he'd go, "Shut up!"

You sound like
a bloody nanny goat."

Robin was always
a bit of a loner.

I like being spontaneous.

I like being funny with people,

but you won't get that
right away with me, you see.

Robin had a wit that
no one could compete with.

And he could be very dark too.

Robin is not a person
who would say,

"Oh, I love my brothers,"

or, "Group hug."

You know, none of that stuff.

I'm basically a very shy person.

I'm very hard to get to know.

I have to really know somebody
before I reveal myself.

You know, I mean,
that's the voice.

That's the voice
that reaches your heart.

We did a show
at the Saville Theatre,

and Paul McCartney was there
with Jane Asher,

because Robert had said,

"Would you come
and see the boys?"

When you think that

five months before all this
was going on,

I was in Pitt Street buying up
the Beatle fan club book,

and now here I am
partying with these guys.

We felt like we'd arrived.

Now I'm living out in Highgate
outside London.

Barry's got a place
in Eaton Square.

Robin's got a house
in St. George's Hill,

beautiful area.

And Mum and Dad
had their own place,

and, of course, Andy lived
with them.

He was just like us,

and he was always tagging along,

hoping that one day,
he would do this too.

He would like to sing.

There was a lot of hits
in that short time,

you know, and after all the work

we had done through clubs
and everything,

I felt grown up, you know,

so we made the most of it.

Very talented group of men,
the Bee Gees.

Once again,
the fabulous Bee Gees.

Here they are, and get
involved with the Bee Gees.

Here they are.

By then, we were flying,

you know, just the most
amazing experience.

As a pop group,

this was the biggest moment
of our lives.

Never expected.

Hoped for
but never really expected.

Then came "Massachusetts."

Robin said, "I've got
this idea for a song."

He sang the melody,

and I just remember
our jaws dropping.

For me, they connected
from very early on.

"Massachusetts" is probably
the first song,

I think, that really resonates.

There is a gospel quality to it.

There is a folk quality to it.

I didn't know where the hell
Massachusetts was,

but I found myself singing that

and translating it
to where I was from.

Robert runs up and he goes,

"'Massachusetts' has just gone
to number one."

We went, "What?"

To have a number one in England,

you have no idea
how much we dreamed of this

back in Australia.

"Massachusetts"
from the Bee Gees.

I met the Bee Gees
at "Top of the Pops."

I was young.

Was I 16?
Maybe I was even 17.

Top pop girl in America,
top pop girl in Britain,

the one and only Lulu.

The Bee Gees were always
in the studio.

They were always recording.

They would literally go
into the studio

and start writing.

I had never known
anything like that before.

We don't usually write
our lyrics

till the day we sing them.

We usually write our lyrics
in the studio itself.

That seems to work
through thick and thin.

It always works for us.

It's very hard to describe
how we write,

but the only way I can describe

how we work at it
is by becoming one mind.

Maurice had unique insight

into the way
Robin and I thought.

He would just be
fiddling around on the piano.

He'd suddenly
play something, and,

"What was that?"

He was trying to please us

and the way that we would all
try to please each other,

and that sometimes was
the birth of a song.

All of a sudden,
we'll wake each other's

little instincts up
and the melodies come.

It's wonderful
when you hear it taking shape.

Then it all blossoms.

The third verse is four bars.

It's rolling.

They'd say, "Okay,
we're ready to roll," right?

And they'd play the song,
and I'd work the chords out.

Colin would figure out

what he's gonna do on the drums.

They'd say, "Right, here we go."

Let's go. Bang, bang, bang."

Down it went.

And that spontaneity
came out in the songs.

In those days, you knocked
an album out in three weeks.

I think we had
three albums out in one year.

When we went to Europe,

there'd always be
a big bunch of kids outside

waiting for us to arrive.

It was a frightening time,

because they crawled
all over the Mercedes.

They were on the roof.
They were at the window.

It was crazy.

"Hey, guys.

Do you think we're famous?
Could be."

The Bee Gees,

the most exciting sound
in the world.

If you've never been famous,

the first time it happens,

it's a very difficult thing
to handle.

You don't know how to behave.

You don't know
how to experience it.

And that affected all of us
in its own way.

I had six Rolls-Royces
before I was 21.

I don't know where they are now.

But I mean,
that's how crazy it was.

We were all very selfish
at that point.

The testosterone kicked in,

and the competition
of life began.

There was always a conflict
between Barry and Robin

'cause they both had
fantastic voices

and Robin wanted
to sing the song

and Barry wanted to sing it.

Both of us wanted to be
individual performers.

We all wanted
individual recognition.

And therein lies the issue.

I'm speaking to you
from a club in Hamburg,

and I'm Barry Gibb
of the Bee Gees.

Robin here.

Robin, we've heard rumors
that the group is splitting up.

Would you like to verify
those rumors?

If I was to say that was true,

then I would be
the premier of Russia.

I don't know.

Thank you very much,
Mr. Petersen.

How about you, Mr. Melouney?

- Oh, no.
I don't think it is.

No. No. No.

I always say that making music

with your family

is equally the greatest strength

and the greatest weakness
you could ever have

in a musical partnership.

To get to the top
or near the top,

you've gotta be
incredibly driven,

and what drives you is your ego.

And when you get there

and everybody's got an ego
about it,

it can be tricky to stay there.

The three of us stopped
looking inwards to each other

and all started looking outwards

to what we could be
individually.

"To hell
with what my brothers think."

And each one of us
was thinking that.

To travel the world
when you're young

with a family member

gives you a certain sense
of who you are

and where you've come from
and all that.

So you kind of walk
that tightrope.

We'd been together
all our lives, don't forget.

We'd been together
since Robin and I were five,

singing professionally.

You know, it's a lot of years.

We'd been kids living
together with each other

right up until
the time we arrived

and even after we arrived
in England.

Robin was first to say,

"Well, I'm quitting
the group."

I stopped really knowing Robin

and his personal life
once we became famous.

And the same with Mo.

Our three lives were
three different lives.

We were no longer living
the same life.

Brothers...

in general,
it's a very complicated thing,

you know?

Emotions are heightened,

and there's things that go back
to childhood about, you know,

if one kid got more attention
than the other,

and all these things play out

in front of just a small group
of friends,

but when you magnify that
with the whole world,

it changes the game
a little bit.

Robin, that's a good picture.

That's you, Barry, Colin, Vince.

- That's correct, yes.
- Do you miss 'em?

Well, it's not really a matter

of missing them, really.

But I still see them
on and off, you know,

so that's the way things go.

I'll show you the studio anyway.

It was really me and Robin
that were in conflict,

and I think
Maurice was in the middle.

Story of my life, really.

Barry would call me up and say,

"Well, can you call Robin
and tell him

if he wants to do this?"

And Robin would go,
"Well, give Barry a call

and let him know
that I'm gonna be over."

I said,
"Robin, you call Barry."

"Barry, you call Robin."

And they both said,
"No, we won't."

And for 18 months,
they never did.

We had this fascination

with calling the newspapers up.

You called "NME" or you called
"Disc" or "Music Echo"

and you'd say...

"Robin said this about me,
and I just wanna be able

to correct the record,"
and all that stuff.

It was a whole
strange episode of our lives,

but a lot of things
had gone down at that time,

and we needed time apart
to think about them.

At Caxton Hall, VIP transport

for very important pop star
Barry Gibb.

He's getting married

to 20-year-old
former Miss Edinburgh

Linda Gray.

Their world was crazy
at that time.

You know, at one time,
there was three brothers,

and then all of a sudden,
it was three wives.

Maurice Gibb and Lulu
became Mr. and Mrs.

At St. James' Parish Church

at Gerrards Cross
in Buckinghamshire.

You think, by marrying someone

that you absolutely adore,

you think it's gonna solve
all your problems,

but really...

At Caxton Hall,

Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees
marries Molly Hullis.

Molly was my first real love.

The first serious one.

But it was
a very traumatic time for me.

I went with my manager.

He said, "Look, Robin",

I'm gonna send you
to New Zealand."

He says, "You're doing
the Redwood Park Festival."

So I went there, and of course,

it was advertised
that the Bee Gees were coming,

not just Robin Gibb, you see.

All right.
Okay.

How'd you feel last night?

I have an obligation
to my audience

not to look scared, and...

I can't say
I really felt scared.

I was terrified.

All three of us became isolated,

and all three of us
did things to each other

that I think
we're all sorry for.

We loved each other.

There was an enormous amount
of love between us.

Growing up,
we did everything together.

We often thought
we were triplets.

Because we all had
the same love.

We had the same sense of humor.

We had the same love
of the same kind of music.

Just typical kids, you know?

But the one thing
that no one else was doing

was that we were singing
in harmony,

and beyond anything else,
that's all we cared about.

We fell in love
with the Mills Brothers.

They all did something unique
in their own way.

And at the same time,

Robin and I did
two different leads,

and Maurice would always know
where to put that other melody

to make a three-part harmony.

They mirrored
what we wanted to be.

Do you find you miss
Robin and Maurice musically?

Yeah.

Not musically.

I miss them both as brothers.

Something
about entering the world

from the same place,
I think, has an effect

on your ability
to sing together,

your creative awareness,
and your artistic voice.

Could we see the Bee Gees
back together again?

That's a very strong point
that it could be.

I can't say definitely,

but I'd like to see
the Bee Gees again.

Mr. Epstein has been
unwell now for some months.

And he's been in the habit
of taking tablets

to help him sleep at night.

He was found
in his second-floor bedroom

just after 2:00 this afternoon
by his housekeeper.

When Brian died
and we restructured NEMS,

Robert asked to become

a more important
senior executive

for the Beatles,

and that wasn't acceptable
to them,

so he then left the company

and took with him Eric Clapton
and Bee Gees

so he could start off
on his own.

We were an asset.

We were one of those people
Robert needed

as an element of going public.

It was at the launching
of the company

where we started
to communicate again.

And once we came back
together again,

we wrote "Lonely Days,"

which reflected the idea
that we'd been broken up.

We'd always been boys
going up together,

and I think
we came back together as men.

We respected
each other's opinions,

which we didn't before that.

If anything,
that was the good thing

about the breakup.

I had already started
a first verse and chorus.

I knew what "How Can You Mend
a Broken Heart?" was,

but then Robin walks in.

I said, "I'm just working
on this song."

Do you wanna do it with me?"

And he went,
"Yeah, of course."

We'd been apart for two years.

If we hadn't been brothers,

we wouldn't have lasted
half an hour.

It just wouldn't have happened.

Things started to just improve
over time, you know?

We became the Bee Gees again.

We came back together,
and we made

two number one records
in America,

so we were on a bit of a high.

But we were not really that good

when it came to just doing
anything without a pill,

you know, or without a drink.

It was destroying us.

And that became the battle,

the fight to survive
being a pop group.

Thank you very, very much
on behalf of my brothers,

Robin

and Maurice,

and this beautiful orchestra,

our lead guitarist,
Alan Kendall...

Robert Stigwood said,

"The Bee Gees are gonna go
on a tour,

and they want a guitar player
who can play bass as well,"

'cause in those days,

Maurice played bass, but he
would go on piano sometimes.

And so I called him and I said,
"Well, I can't play bass,"

and he said,
"Just say you can play bass,"

so I said, "Okay,
I can play bass."

I'll be honest, I was
very much into the lifestyle.

I just loved being on the road.

I loved playing music,
chasing women.

Maurice is so funny,

'cause he was good
at magic tricks,

and he'd like
to drink a little, as I did.

Robin, I never really knew.

I mean, I'd converse with him
but not as much as the others.

And I would bump into him
every now and then

wandering the corridors
of the hotel.

And there's Barry
with his glamorous wife

smoking a bowl, you know?

My early days with the Bee Gees

were, for me, thrilling,

even though I can understand
why it wasn't for them,

'cause they weren't
necessarily selling out.

When we were broken up,

the world changed radically
very quickly.

And that was the beginning
of the period

when there was just
no interest in us at all.

Remember, we were on tour.

They'd try to keep Robin

from looking out
into the audience,

in case it was only half full.

When we got back home,
I turned to more drinking.

I'd go to the pubs.
The police knew my car.

I was becoming the town drunk.

I mean, I think I had
about 2 grand in the bank

and lived next order
to a fish and chips shop.

So by '74,

we didn't think there was
gonna be much of a future.

When you become famous,
you think everyone loves you

and they're gonna love you
forever,

and it's not true.

All of a sudden now,
we had to work the clubs

at the north of England
to pay the taxman,

so we had the Sheffield Fiesta,

the Golden Garter in Manchester,

Batley Variety Club,

great clubs of our time.

The Batley thing,

it's where all the has-beens
went to play,

and not saying
that they were has-beens,

but it was like, "Oh, God,
not Batley," you know?

I was a waitress
at the Batley Variety Club.

I really wasn't a fan
of the Bee Gees.

The only thing I knew
about them was,

you know, Maurice was mar...

Well, he was going through
a divorce with Lulu.

Yvonne came in,
and I saw her eyes.

I don't know
about the rest of her.

I just saw her eyes.

And I said,
"I'm gonna marry her."

And I knew
I was gonna marry her.

He was so cute.

His personality was amazing.

Maurice had
this childlike quality,

which is something
very special in men.

He loved dressing up
in police uniforms.

Wherever we went on tour,

they'd give him a hat,
give him a badge.

- Is that his wallet?
- It's a badge.

Whoa!

- What was that?
- I'm not showing you now.

People loved him.

He had the best smile ever.

I remember him teaching me
the showbiz smile,

and he said,
"Well, the trick is,

"you don't move your eyes

and you just go like this."

And I'll be honest with you,

I think Maurice was the glue
that held it all together.

Oh, I'm Mr. Fix-It.

Either some discrepancy
between Barry and Robin,

or if we're gonna make
a decision about something,

"Well, what does
Maurice think?"

But most of the time,
I'm like my mum.

I'm the peacemaker.

You know,
if they'd not been brothers,

they would not be together.

No doubt in my mind.

I met the Gibbs
when they were on a bit of a...

Shall we say, a downturn
in their career.

Robert Stigwood made me,

unaccountably,
the head of his record label.

I was only 21 years old.

I truly believed
it was because I was

the only guy in the room
that I got the job.

It was odd to me
because I thought,

"If they can write those songs,

how come they can't
be consistent?"

If you got the ability to write

"How Can You Mend
a Broken Heart?"

and "To Love Somebody,"

where does that talent go?

I mean, there was two albums
in a row that were dismal.

Ahmet Ertegun said to Robert,

"You know,
maybe their time has gone,"

'cause it was Atlantic
who were paying

for these recordings,

and Robert wouldn't hear of it,
of course.

He would never let
the Bee Gees go.

There was this thing
about Stigwood...

Stigwood and his loyalties.

I had a kind
of deep-seated resentment

about the fact that,
you know, they were still

his favorite.

I had come out of a long period

of addiction and alcoholism,

and I went into
the sort of recovery period.

All these musical ambitions
came to the surface,

so I went to Miami to record.

We had a conversation with Eric

about making a comeback.

Eric said, "Well,
I've just made this album"

"called '461 Ocean Boulevard'
in Miami.

"Why don't you guys
make an album in America

"instead of always
making an album in England,

"and maybe the change
of environment

will do something for you?"

The studio there
was unbelievable,

and I think that's what

the suggestion was about,
really.

I thought those guys
were actually an R&B band

that hadn't really
worked that out yet.

And I thought,
"Man, this would be so good

if they could pick up
on what's going on in America."

I do know that they had
to change something.

That's when the whole idea

of actually being
more of a band together

rather than, you know,

musicians and orchestras
and all that stuff.

Alan Kendall,
who was a friend of mine,

said, "The Bee Gees
are looking for a drummer."

You know, are you interested?"

And I went, "Yes."

"I think I'm interested.
Yeah. I am interested."

We needed to get more energized

and don't rely so much

on the ballads
that we had been doing.

We wanted to be a band so bad,

and that was basically
the birth of it.

We had a great bass player,
Maurice.

We had a great guitar player,
Alan.

So really,
the only thing we needed

was a keyboard player,

and I thought, "Blue."

Dennis called and said,

"Look, you know,
I'm putting a band together

"with the Bee Gees,

"and I've spoken to Barry,
and everybody's in agreement.

Are you interested?"

I said, "No. No."

I'm having great fun.
I'm in a rock and roll band."

Queen was our support act.

I'm touring America and living
the rock and roll life.

We'd grown up together
playing in bands in Cardiff.

I said, "We've known each other"

for a long time, right?"

He said,
"Den, don't do this to me."

And I said,
"I am doing it to you."

I said, "Just do me one favor:"

"meet Barry.

"And after you've met Barry,
if you don't wanna do it,

I'll leave you alone."

Maurice and I had moved
to the Isle of Man,

which is where we were born.

Blue was the guy who was gonna
come to the Isle of Man

and audition for us on piano.

We were staying
in Barry's house,

and it was Linda,
and then Maurice came over

and Huey, the father.

Instantly, you feel
comfortable with them.

They started talking
about synthesizers

and Moogs,

and Blue had them all.

There's the Sunday evening
I was leaving,

and Huey said, "Hey,
we haven't heard you play."

But my piano was so bad

that he played something
and it just sounded awful.

It was just, like,
totally embarrassing.

I said, "Sounds fine
to me, man."

"Let's do it," you know?

Barry offered him the job.

I'd always loved the music,

but the first time
you ever hear the Bee Gees

just when they're in a room
like this,

you know, it's just magic.

I think that's
what won me over with them.

I said yes,

and January the 1st, we left.

Miami's a gateway city,

but in those days,
it was kind of sleepy.

You know, a little off
the beaten path.

But in the winter,
that was the place to be,

so Atlantic Records
would always book their acts

down at Criteria.

I was about
the number three engineer

at the studio.

I worked my way up,

and I was at that point
in my career

where I was ready for anything.

When we got to Miami,
all of a sudden, sunshine,

and, oh, you know?

This is paradise.

We'd come from England,

and so there was nothing
sleepy about America.

Put them in the same house
I'd rented for Eric Clapton,

461 Ocean Boulevard.

I think the first thing
all of us did was

take pictures against
that palm tree, you know,

doing the Eric Clapton pose.

Being in that house together,

you know, we were creative,

and we were a family.

I mean, I felt like that.

It did make us close.

I mean, you had to be.
And we'd all watch TV at night.

The chemistry was very exciting.

When you got up in the morning,

you went to breakfast;
you had a cup of tea.

It was all very relaxed.

It was strange, considering
the amount of pressure

that was really on the Bee Gees
at that time.

They were about to drop us.

We had to adopt a new sound.

We had to adopt a new attitude.

So the next step was,
we brought Arif Mardin in

to produce them.

We'd often work
with other people,

but they weren't producers,

and this man
was a literal producer.

They had expressed
how much they wanted to do

American R&B kind of stuff,

and Arif was, you know,
top of the heap for that.

Arif was so instrumental
in producing Black artists,

and we wanted that input.

We actually did an album
with Arif before that,

but Arif said, "We've gotta go
more into R&B,"

and we started working together

right here in Miami,
down at Criteria.

Well, I was in Studio B,

and Arif says to me,

"Carl, have I got a group
for you."

And of course, everybody knew
the Bee Gees.

It was a surprise
out of nowhere.

I was excited.

You know, they sing like angels.

And they were as excited
as I was.

And Arif was right in there
with them.

He said, "Look",

"if you're ever going
to break out brand-new,

"you gotta start now.

"You gotta shock the pants
off these people

who don't believe in you."

Robert came and saw us
when we were making the album,

sat down with us on the beach,
and said, "Right."

"We're gonna start from scratch.

"This is gonna be it.

Let's make it big."

If you said to me or anyone,

"Just go and write a hit song
right now,"

they would be able to craft
something good,

but it would probably be
missing this magic

that, if you work in music
long enough,

you understand
is running everything.

Like surfers with waves.
Surfers don't make the waves.

Fishermen don't make the fish.

Songwriters don't really
write songs.

You receive songs.

Driving backwards
and forwards to Criteria,

this clickity-click thing
was going on in this bridge

every time we crossed over it.

And in my head, it sounded like,

"ch, ch-ch, ch-ch."

And it was gone.

And eventually, I started
singing to it in my head.

I remember going to the studio.

Barry said, "Can you do
chicken picking, Alan?"

I didn't really know
what it was.

So I just played this one note
and muted it.

Thought it sounded
like a chicken.

And mixed
with Barry's rhythm part,

it really worked, you know?

At that time, you know,

a handful of R&B artists
were using synthesizers,

so we went into this field

pioneering, in a way.

Music is this huge energy
flying around everywhere,

and if you're lucky,
you get little slices of it

that turn into songs.

There is a sort of...

- Like a radio transmitter.
- It's exactly like that.

It's almost as if
somebody's already written

the songs in the air
and they're giving them to us.

It was Robert who really pressed

for "Jive Talkin'" to come out
as the first single,

because it was something
totally unexpected from us.

We sent the record out

but without naming
the Bee Gees on it,

because by then,
their stock had fallen so low

with radio stations in America,

and within hours

of the record landing
at all the radio stations,

they were calling in, saying,
"Who is this?

This is amazing."

The British group who move
into number one this week

hit number one

exactly four years ago
to the week.

The brand-new number one song
in the USA,

the Bee Gees
and "Jive Talkin'."

When "Jive Talkin'" came out,

everybody went, "Who?"

"The Bee Gees?
'Broken Heart' Bee Gees?

Are you kidding?"

Something different
was happening,

and the brothers felt it too.

Miami, Miami Beach,

that whole vibe turned them on.

I just fell in love
with the atmosphere here.

It reminded me so much
of growing up in Australia.

That's great, Rob.

And from "Jive Talkin'" onwards,

we kicked it up.

The songwriting was
just very unique.

Nothing like it.

They would write on the spot,

and they would bounce
off each other.

Okay, you let us know
when you're ready.

"Nights on Broadway"
was one of those.

The guys had been to New York,
and they go, "Oh, this is..."

We gotta write
a New York kind of song."

- Here we go.
Take ten.

They just did it naturally
in the studio,

and everybody chipped in.

Three, four.

Ahmet Ertegun came to Miami.

He was there when we were
cutting "Nights on Broadway."

At the time,
it was "Lights on Broadway."

And Ahmet went, "No."

He said, "You know,
you've got to get more adult"

about the song."

So "Lights on Broadway"
became "Nights on Broadway."

We were completing
"Nights on Broadway."

We'd just done
most of the vocal tracks.

Usually, you know,
at the end, you know,

you have some ad-libs
or some kind of thing

to take us away
from the original melody

and have some fun.

Arif suggested to the band,

"Hey, you know, we really need
some kind of background parts

that come in and express
the meaning of the song."

He was looking for one of us
to scream,

in tune, if possible.

I said, "I'll go out
and give it a shot."

- Are we almost ready?
Let's do it.

So he went out there and he did

the "blaming it alls."

Everybody in the control room
woke up,

and it was like,
"Oh, this is a new sound."

I was thinking,
"My God, I don't...

"where is this coming from?

I can do this."

My whole life, I didn't know
I could do this.

Everybody's giving me credit.

No, he was singing it.
I said, "Keep on doing it."

Arif brought it out of us,
all that.

I mean, we weren't the first
to sing falsetto.

We loved the Stylistics.

We loved the Spinners,
the Delfonics.

They were all
falsetto lead singers.

There's something to be said
about all music

is that it doesn't happen
in a vacuum.

The falsetto is very much
a Black tradition,

but they've translated it

into this interesting
interpretation of soul.

But I guess
more importantly for me,

it's emotional.

Because we were so excited
about this,

we started writing songs
for this voice.

It created another dimension
of sound...

That's what we thought...
You know, emotionally.

It became another icon
of the Gibbs.

Everybody knew,
when you heard that falsetto,

that's the Bee Gees.

When we sing songs like...

It's Barry and Robin
singing in unison.

But they mesh together so well
that it sounds like one voice.

But it's a different voice
from them separately.

It's delivered
with such delicacy,

and the message in the lyrics

was what guys should say,
didn't say, couldn't say,

for whatever reasons.

It's the kind of music
you might've bought

and given to your girlfriend.

But that's what was special
about them.

"Main Course" became
a turning point for us.

Dennis Bryon on drums

and Blue Weaver
and Alan Kendall,

that became our band.

One of their best qualities
was adaptability.

In many ways,
they were chameleons of pop.

The way they changed

and the groove
they got into there

was so profound.

If that was something
that was initiated by me,

I can't think of any...

One of the great things
I've done in my life.

I'll take full credit.

We're getting ready
to record the next album,

and we get this phone call

that Arif can't be involved
in this album.

Robert chose to take

the organization away
from Atlantic Records

and go private.

Atlantic, who were not happy
about that, said,

"Well, you're not using
Arif anymore

as a house producer."

I said,
"What about the next album?"

Arif... you know, I said,

"Who do you think can continue
where you left off?"

I got a call from Barry,

and he said,
"I want my studio time back

and I wanna work with you."

And I'm in the control room.

I said to Dennis, the drummer,
I says, you know,

"That pattern you're playing
right now

is just a little too busy."

He said,
"Well, what do you mean?"

I said, "I can't get
into specifics"

about the note values."

I didn't have a technical term
for the open and closed hi-hat

or any of that stuff.

So apparently, you know,
I needed a communicator.

I was working
as an independent producer

on some pub band in London.

Carl called and he said,
"What are you doing?"

And I said,
"Well, I just finished the mix.

I'm on a plane tomorrow."

Albhy went
to Berklee School of Music

in New England,

and he was
one of my best friends.

And he says, "I'll be
on the next flight to Florida."

- I got off the plane.
I went straight to the studio.

I walked in.

They were working
on "You Should Be Dancing."

They came in the control room,

and Barry said,
"What did you think?"

And I said,
"Well, I just got in,

but sounds awfully good."

We seemed to hit it off,
so I came back the next day.

Now, what you have
to remember at the time,

Albhy was a hippie.

I mean, he was just different.

Albhy used to hang
around the studio,

and I got on really well
with him.

I found out he played
on "I Shot the Sheriff"

with Eric.

Albhy had an inroad
into technology,

and he had a great ear.

Everybody just seemed to be,
I think, relieved

to have another ear
in the control room

to hear what they were doing
as a whole.

In the beginning, when I came,

the three brothers
were clearly a unit.

Each of them knew
the way their brothers sang

and would be on the same mic

and they would lean in
or lean out

or complement
each other's voices.

They were in perfect synchrony.

- We found another sound.
We found a new sound.

I came up
with a lot of new ideas

to suit the falsetto.

Everybody was saying
the same thing:

"Do that falsetto again.
Do that falsetto again."

And so that was fine for me.
I was having a ball.

A lot of new music has been
coming out of Miami lately,

enough so
that we've even heard mentioned

the term "Miami Sound."

This is actually
a really important period

for musicianship and production
and songwriting

that targets the dance floor.

It's a different
emotional energy,

which is about,
can you make the body move?

Can you make the body happy?

And certain songs sounded like

the human embodiment
of a brass section.

The same way
a horn just punches...

Yeah.

That's what Barry's voice
reminds me of.

I was always into arrangement
of instruments.

"You Should Be Dancing,"

their voices together
sound like trumpets to me.

I am not high, for the record.

I just wanna...

It was a discovery.

We've discovered a new audience.

At the clubs,

"You Should Be Dancing"
exploded.

Not just, "Oh, well,
I heard that record"

and I really liked it."

It was three times a night
at any club that you went to.

There was a whole industry

that was built
around this clubbing thing.

"Billboard" started a chart
that was dance music chart.

This billion-dollar industry
was being built

way before the Bee Gees.

A lot of people don't realize

disco started in the gay
and the Black community.

People don't understand

what it was like back then
for gay people.

There was a law in New York

that did not allow
people of the same sex

to dance together

in a place
that had a liquor license.

And then the law changed,

and that allowed me
to open my club.

A new era of dance music started

in the gay underground clubs.

So the record industry wants
to name it,

package it, sell it.

That was the explosion

of the disco sound.

We're down
at Criteria Sound Studios,

and currently, it's the studio

that's being used
by the Bee Gees.

What particular thing
about the studio

makes it so attractive?

- It's cheap.
- It's cheap, yeah.

- No.
Cheap it isn't, but...

But the actual atmosphere
of the place is very relaxing.

We create better here
than we do anywhere else.

Yeah.

That's my story,
and I'm sticking to it.

America was the ultimate dream.

As three kids, we said,

"One day, we're gonna have
houses in America

all next door to each other
with swimming pools."

And we thought,
"Oh, that'll be great."

It was a huge uprooting.

It's a very large family,

and it just kept getting
bigger and bigger over time.

Mum and Dad came to Miami
as quickly as we did.

I think they were probably
the happiest they'd ever been

in their lives.

And of course,
Andy came here with them.

Andy was a gift
out of left field.

But I never knew he existed
until one day, he shows up

fresh from Australia.

Andy was a great kid.

He could do anything
he set his mind to.

Barry was Andy's idol.

They were almost like twins.

We were very much alike.

We looked alike.
We had the same birthmarks.

I would say that we were
as much like twins

as Maurice and Robin.

"Main Course"
and "Children of the World,"

which followed that,

they were, like,
triple platinum.

I think he really wanted
to be a part of that.

They suggested
that I go to Australia,

as my brothers first did in 1958

when I was only five months old,

and start working there
and get some records released.

Andy was very young then.

He had his little band.

It was a process
of building him up,

getting him to play live,
getting him to be an artist.

I was there for two years.

Out of the blue,
a phone call came

from my brother Barry

and said, "I wanna produce you,"

and I think it was, like,
two weeks or something,

I was in the studio
to do a new album in Miami.

I didn't think I was ready.

The first few times

on a real professional
studio microphone,

Andy was, like, petrified,

but, you know, Barry was there

and guided him through
and helped him with lyrics.

He was very receptive
to new ideas.

And it didn't take him long,
you know,

to find, like, you know,
another groove.

The Bee Gees' point of view
was about having hit records

and being on the radio,

and so the greatest gift
that you could give

to your younger brother

would be to give him
that success,

to write songs with him,
to teach him to be a star.

And then suddenly,
out of nowhere,

Andy had about three
number ones in a row.

He was a teen idol.

There was talk about him
becoming a Bee Gee.

I think Robert saw
he had a younger audience.

Smart to keep him on his own.

All of a sudden,
he was the big thing.

There was a period
when we lived in the shadow

of Andy's band.

After
"Children of the World" album,

the next project,

we were booked
to record in France

'cause of the Elton John album
"Honky Château."

It sounded great.

Robert sent us there...

I think it was
some kind of tax thing.

We thought, "Well, if this
studio sounds that good",

"hell yeah, let's go off
to France."

Why not?

It wasn't the honky château
that Elton John had used.

Now, château sounds
absolutely gorgeous,

doesn't it?

Beautiful building,
great grounds and gardens

and ponds and fountains.

No.

It's nothing like that.

It was a half-built castle,
no central heating, nothing,

and it was a dump.

We seemed to be
in the middle of nowhere.

Not a happy place to be.

It was really kind of decrepit.

I think it'd been used
to make porn movies.

This was not right.

But because there was
a contract,

we just decided to, you know,
plow on through.

We were going there
to mix a live album

called "Here At Last... Live."

But also,
we were getting songs ready

for our new studio album,

which would be the follow-up
to "Children of the World."

And we got a call
from Robert Stigwood.

A friend of mine, Nik Cohn,

wrote this piece
for "New York" magazine,

"Tribal Rites
of the New Saturday Night."

Disco was really underway,
in Manhattan, anyway,

but Nik Cohn's point was that

rather than just being
underground gay clubs,

straight couples are now going
to do the hustle

on a Saturday night
in the suburbs.

So I got Robert to buy
the film rights

to a magazine article,
of which there was no story.

But it caught Robert's attention

because he saw

that that's a lead role
for an actor

if it was a movie.

He announced

at the Beverly Hills Hotel
at breakfast,

"I'm signing John Travolta
to a three-picture deal,"

and people thought he was mad.

He was a TV actor.

No one gets a million dollars
for three pictures.

Turned out to be the bargain
of the century, of course,

because he got him for "Grease"

and the movie
we don't talk about,

"Moment by Moment,"

but two out of three's not bad.

I was still running RSO Records,

so my job was
to do the soundtrack,

and my brief was,

"Put all of your favorite
disco tracks

"and everyone will play it
at a party

and they'll
never stop dancing."

These were comparatively easy,

but we needed the Bee Gees
to write a few songs.

Phone call came through
from Robert,

saying, "I wanna make
this film."

He said, "But I'm gonna need
two or three songs."

It wasn't the idea that they
would do the soundtrack.

We knew they were busy.

"But have you got some songs?"
Robert said,

and they said, "Yeah, sure."

Robert said,
"I'm sending you a script."

But we decided
not to read the script.

We weren't writing
the "Fever" music.

We were writing our new album
and just having fun doing it.

They already had
a couple of tunes

or some titles, anyway.

We thought,
"Let's leave it with them."

What we ended up doing
was the demos of these songs.

And I was really surprised

that, you know, it was
only a few weeks later

we got the songs.

We got a cassette,
and to this day, it's amazing.

It was just one after the other.

You know, "Stayin' Alive,"
"More Than a Woman,"

"How Deep Is Your Love,"
"If I Can't Have You,"

"Night Fever"

on one cassette.

And I thought, "Yes."

We've got a soundtrack."

You know,
you listen to that tape,

whoever was playing
on those records,

they would've been hits.

Those songs are so good.

You think, "Shit," you know?

"That's so cool."

We had the demos,

and then we went
into the process

of making real records.

Barry and Carl and I lived
in that control room,

I don't know, 16 hours a day.

- Yeah.
That was the only thing to do.

We recorded "Night Fever" first.

We actually had that in the can.

Robert called and said,
"I need a title for the film."

"What I've got at the moment,"
I said, "is two titles:

'Stayin' Alive'
and 'Night Fever.'"

And he said, "'Night Fever.'"

Hmm," he said, "sounds okay,"
he said,

"but it sounds
a bit too pornographic.

"It'd need to be called
'Saturday Night, '" he said.

So it turned
into "Saturday Night Fever."

We were editing "Fever"
on the lot at Paramount.

I was deluged
by Paramount people saying,

"How's your little disco movie
coming along?"

So that was a bit patronizing.

But the inspiring thing was

that Stigwood,
during postproduction, said,

"Why do we wait
for the release of the film?

Let's put out a single now."

And then he started
with the heads of Paramount,

like, "How many theaters?"

And they told him
something like 200.

He said, "I'm releasing
the record in every city."

Why can't it be
in every single city?"

So they made a deal

whereby if the record got
to the top 20,

they would increase
the number of screens.

If it got top ten,
they'd go more.

He said,
"I need the first record

to be number one."

Stigwood phoned up
and said to Barry,

"I need the best love song

you've ever written
for the movie."

So we went into a room
in the château.

Chopin had stayed there.

So every time I looked
at this piano,

I envisaged Chopin
sitting down and playing.

I sat down at the piano

and thought
of his Prelude in E Flat,

and I knew Barry could sing
in E flat.

When we were working like that,

I had a cassette player.

And I'm sure it happened
at that point.

Through the stained glass window

came a beam of sunlight,
you know?

And that's a memory...
That'll last me all my life.

Never forget it.

Never forget it.

You know, all the feelings,

all the emotions
are still there.

When you talk about it,
it all comes back, you know?

I have a...

My heart is in that song.

Everything came together.

But sadly,
Dennis had had some bad news.

- My mother was in hospital.
She had Alzheimer's.

So, you know, I told Barry
what was going on.

He said, you know, "Get Dick
to book you a flight now."

He had to fly back to the UK,
and we had no drummer.

We thought, "Well, we gotta
carry on writing"

and getting
these tracks together."

Okay, I know now.

When I was at Berklee,
I had studied things

where they were
moving tapes around

and make sort of these
interesting sonic loops.

And when Dennis was not there,

I said, "Well, why don't we just"

"take a bar
out of 'Night Fever'?

"I think
it's a little slower tempo.

"We'll slow it down a little bit

and see if we can make a loop
out of it."

We found a bar that we thought
had a really nice feel to it.

We copied it over to a...

- 1/2 inch four-track.
- 1/2 inch four-track.

And spliced the tape
into a loop.

Tape dump.

I was pretty good at imagining

what you might be able to do,

but Carl was able
to make it happen.

It was just necessity
being the mother of invention.

No one had taken
a drumbeat before

and created a two-bar phrase.

We were breaking new ground.

Perfect. Good.

This is the first time
we had ever taken the song

and built it piece by piece
from the ground up,

and we started
with this drum loop.

And then we did a bass line.

And then a guitar part.

Never again would we rely
as much on the liveness.

We would always know

that we could construct the song

and put the pieces together

based on the original vision
of the song

and how we imagined it.

I got back to the sessions,
and there was just a buzz.

When we did it, we thought,

"We're just doing this
temporarily,"

and when Dennis comes back,

"we'll replace it
with real drums,"

but what happened is,
the feel was so amazing

that we couldn't get rid of it.

He played it for me,
and I could tell

from the first listen.

I said, "Man, that is amazing."

When you listen
to the drum track

on "Stayin' Alive,"
like, by itself,

it's really this super rugged,
like, tough thing.

It's like...

It's not pretty or pop
like you remember.

It's pretty tough.

"Stayin' Alive"
was the influence

that New York gave to us.

And the energy level
at that point

in the late '70s
was really that, you know?

It's survival. It's survival.

This is '77.

Everybody know
that time is hard now.

You know,
if I was out there myself,

I would've got
what I wanted too.

You were not among the looters?

- No, I wasn't.
Unfortunate.

Do you feel
personally threatened

by the .44 Caliber Killer?

Yes, I do.

I don't feel free to go out,

to walk the streets
or go out at all.

Very few people realize

it's to do with anything
but dance,

but the lyrics don't talk
about dance at all,

and the lyrics
very obviously state

the scenario of survival.

I mean, that could very easily
have just been a horn line,

but instead,
their voices are so sick,

they're like,
"Nah, we're gonna sing it."

The general fever at the time

was, "You must see this film."

The songs precipitated
the interest.

It was this cultural phenomenon.

In the first week of release,

they were having to hire
extra staff in some cinemas

to stop them dancing
in the aisles.

Other movies were being put back

or taken out of other screens
to make room for "Fever."

I mean, it was really
quite a phenomenon.

John took me aside
at one point and said,

"Hey, what do you think?

You think maybe
an Academy Award nomination?"

And I'm thinking,
"Jesus Christ, no."

I mean, this is ridiculous.

It's a dance movie, you know?

He had the last laugh.

And John Travolta
in "Saturday Night Fever."

The "Fever" thing happened.

That's when everything exploded.

Other record companies
were printing it.

Then our record company
couldn't keep up the pace.

We didn't know what was going on

because this was
just a soundtrack.

Could I ask, for example,

what "Saturday Night Fever"
has grossed thus far?

Around 110 million.

At the moment.
In America.

- In America?
- In America, yeah.

And the album?

The album, I think, is nearing

18 million
double albums worldwide.

But I mean, that would be
the record-breaker of all time.

Yes, it's already
the biggest-grossing album

in the history of music.

The statistics
are just incredible.

Four singles
from "Saturday Night Fever"

have hit number one
since the album was released,

more than from any other
new album in history.

That's just a few
of the statistics

that lead to gold records
like this.

And so it's my privilege to say,

ladies and gentlemen,
will you welcome

the Bee Gees!

Has it changed your lives,
the enormous success of it?

Yes, I can safely say
it's changed our lives.

The Bee Gees, I think,
were stunned by their success.

We were aware we were
creating a specific sound,

but we didn't know
what it was gonna do.

It did end up with them
having half the top ten

with these songs.

It was extraordinary.

Kind of the same domination
the Beatles had

in the '60s in America.

They were just everywhere.

But our own friends
don't treat us the same way.

What, from a distance,
they treat you?

Well, I was speaking to one
of my friends the other day,

and as he was cleaning
my shoes, I said, "Listen."

Stigwood said,

"Let's give the band
half a point or a quarter."

Now, that's not a percentage.
That's a tiny amount of money.

But when you sell as many copies

as "Saturday Night Fever" sold,

it turns out to be big money.

What are you doing

with these millions of dollars?

What are you doing
with your millions of dollars?

Oh, no.

It is the biggest night
of the year

for people
in the recording industry,

the Grammy Awards.

And the winner is
"Saturday Night Fever."

Whoo!

For a soundtrack to win
Best Album was amazing.

It went on to be
one of the best-selling albums

in history.

We didn't know we were
defining the culture.

We were just still
Barry, Maurice, and Robin

wondering what the hell's
going on.

The fever has been contagious.

Discos, the places in which
to dance away the night

and the morning hours,
are thriving.

What the fever has done is made

just about anything
related to disco profitable.

Where there's money to be made,

disco is the business.

We didn't categorize
our songs as disco,

but then we weren't thinking
that way at all.

We were just thinking
about writing songs

based on this discovery
of this falsetto voice

and how well
that seemed to work.

What the Bee Gees brought,

I always felt
they brought melody to disco.

Most disco at that point
was melody-free, you know?

This was a different take
on disco.

It was completely for...

For the broadest
possible audience.

- You got the lyrics?
- Yes.

- Great.
- Right here.

- Okay. Let's go.
- Straight into it.

One, two, three, four.

Right.
Okay.

- Hey, guys.
- It's too slow.

It would be nice
if we could find a bigger sound

for that solo.

Great.

The way we rehearsed it
last night.

All right.

- Yeah.
Just like that.

Yeah. Beautiful.

Bring that sound in.
That's great.

Yeah.

- Okay, let's try it again.
- Okay.

One, two, three, four.

When we brought out
"Spirits Having Flown,"

it did phenomenally well.

At the same time, "Fever" was
still in the top ten.

You know, we could've left it
another year,

and it still probably would've
been a little too soon

with what was going on
with "Fever."

Good morning, everybody.

Charley Steiner, 99X.

As is per usual for Monday,

a very busy day
coming into town.

I'm working at a top 40 station

in New York, big one,

WXLO, but it was known as 99X.

And I was the morning news guy.

Most radio stations
had a very small playlist,

and the Bee Gees probably had
the top four, top five hits

any given week.

13 CFRW.

Music of the Bee Gees
and "Tragedy."

Get out on the dance floor

and do one more
with the Bee Gees.

All the Gibb brothers
together, the Bee Gees,

"You Should Be Dancing."

You should be shaking
that thing one time.

And for those of us
at the radio station,

we're...

We're gonna take hostages.

And if you haven't had
enough Bee Gees music yet,

well, we've got more.

Guess you could kind of
call it over-giving.

And then Andy Gibb too.

He was like the caboose
on this musical train.

It was like waves in the sea.

You're right on the top
of the world.

What is it that drives you
back on the road?

When we make records
and when we're in the studio,

we never really see
who buys those records.

I think getting on the road
means that to us.

It means that we come
face-to-face with people

to whom our records mean a lot.

But to be sure, doing a tour
is an enormous amount of work.

The only thing that I noticed
that's not right is,

it doesn't actually say
the Bee Gees,

and I think it should actually...

The Bee Gees' name should be...

It should be "Bee Gees,
Spirits Having Flown."

The '79 tour
was a complete sellout.

The Bee Gees hadn't toured
since 1976,

and that tour was a promotion

for the "Spirits Having Flown"
album,

but it was celebrating

"Saturday Night Fever"
as well, you know.

25,000 people
are supposed to be here.

It's gonna be great.

You don't mind the Bee Gees
in the rain?

- No.
- No, not at all.

We've been here
since 9:00 this morning.

They're worth waiting
in the rain for.

I mean, it was huge.

Dodger Stadium,
places like that.

We used to dream of this.

Having people in the audience
like Barbra Streisand

watching your show
and loving it, you know,

I mean, these are fantasies.

You're in a sort
of goldfish bowl on tour.

You know, it's like,
you don't see much

of what's going on out there.

Anyway, the most
important thing is

what we're gonna do
after the show.

What do you wanna do?

That's what we're here
to talk about.

It's here.

The Disco Body Shaper,

the brand-new
exerciser sensation

that's sweeping the country.

Send for yours today.

Buy it today,
be a disco star tonight.

Let's disco to Burger King.

It all goes back to one thing

and the same thing
that's happening now:

greed.

Greed is the thing
that happens in people

that really ruins a lot of shit.

In the beginning,

you would buy
a disco-bannered record

and it would be a great song,

no matter which one
you picked out.

But then some executive
in diapers decided,

"Let's put 'disco'

on all these records
we wanna sell,"

and it wasn't
good music anymore.

It was garbage.

Ah, get down, mama.

So that was, I think, the straw

that broke the camel's back.

Disco as a purely musical form

is, you know, dead.

I hated it.

Couldn't think
of anything redeem...

It was old people's music.

It was a very easy thing

to get involved with
for commercial reasons.

I'd like to show you

how we destroy
the disco records.

This is how I do it.

Have to kind of get worked up
a little bit.

- It's like...
- Yeah.

And then I just...

Oof.
That felt good.

Our next guest tonight
is Steve Dahl.

And he is a disc jockey
for station WLUP-FM

out in Chicago, Illinois,

and he hates disco music.

Steve Dahl was kind of hard
to avoid in Chicago.

Steve Dahl was on the radio
saying, "Disco sucks."

Disco sucks."

I was 14.

I listened to the Loop,

the radio station that this
kind of centered around.

He brings helium to the studio,

inhales it and imitates
the Bee Gees on the air,

and then breaks up
their records.

You know, when you do
all those things,

like put out garbage,

you know, have radio
being... feeling ostracized

and a lot of straight people
feeling threatened,

it creates a real poison.

Hello again, everybody.

Harry Caray and Jimmy Piersall
from Comiskey Park,

where we're gonna have
a wild night tonight,

a twilight doubleheader.

I was an usher at Comiskey Park.

That was my first job.

Look at that crowd out there.

50,000 people,

the largest crowd of the season,

showed up
at Chicago's Comiskey Park.

Many had come
for Disco Demolition Night,

a promotional gimmick.

15,000 others had to be
turned away.

Steve Dahl says,

"We're gonna let everybody in
the White Sox park

"for 98¢

"if you bring a disco record,

"and we're gonna blow
those records up

in the middle of center field."

We're letting people in.

I pointed out to my chief usher,

"That record, that record,
that record,

"that record, that record,
that record,

"those aren't disco records.

Those are just...
Those are R&B records."

And the thing that I noticed

more than anything

was just mostly Black records.

At the same time

all this stuff is going down
in Chicago,

we were playing the stadiums.

It was an amazing tour.

We were sort of, like,
in our own little world,

not thinking about
the outside world.

He struck him out,
and the ball game is over.

Okay, let's usher Steve
down to the explosives

with a loud "Disco sucks" chant.

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Disco sucks!

Ladies and gentlemen,
our brother Andy.

Come on!

Andy joined us onstage
for "You Should Be Dancing,"

and it was
the four of us together,

and Andy joined my mic,

so we were singing
around the one mic,

and he kept looking up,
and he stood back and he goes,

"Can you believe this shit?"

Nobody could believe
what was going on.

And to see
the four of us onstage,

when I looked over
and saw Barry and Robin

and I saw Andy in front of me,
I thought,

"This is how it's gotta be."

How 'bout the Bee Gees?

Well, listen, we took
all the disco records

that you brought tonight,

threw 'em in a giant box,

and we're gonna blow 'em up
real good.

One, two, three, boom!

That blew 'em up real good!

They'd tell you as an usher,
every now and then,

you're gonna get a drunk person

storming the field.

Try to grab 'em,
hold on to 'em, or whatever.

But everybody ran on the field.

When I got older, I recognized

that this was actually the end
of a era.

It was a book burning.

It was a racist,

homophobic book burning.

And the Bee Gees
got caught up in that

because they were
part of that culture

that was lifting
a lot of people up.

- Thank you.
We love you.

And we'll see you again.
Bye-bye.

Nearly 7,000 spectators held
their very own demolition.

Game two of the doubleheader
was canceled last night.

That game will be forfeited.

The anti-disco movement

was almost anti-Bee Gees
at that point.

Ironically, the soundtrack
to "Saturday Night Fever,"

the album
that made them superstars,

also branded them
as a disco group.

Because you can dance to it,
I mean,

doesn't necessarily make it
a disco song.

I mean, you can dance
to lots of songs.

You really don't wanna be
labeled "disco"...

- No, no.
- At all, do you?

Because our music is a variety

of different kinds of music.

It shouldn't be called
just that.

So people hated disco.

Hated it.

We had FBI and Secret Service

around the airplane every time
we landed in a certain place

'cause of the bomb threats.

It was scary stuff.

We were perplexed,

'cause I got that vibe
from them.

You know,
"Why are people doing this?"

The Bee Gees claim

some radio stations
around the country

are refusing to play
their new single.

The Bee Gees are not allowed
to have a hit

because they had
a lot of success

with "Saturday Night Fever."

That, to me, is crap.

Radio is, of course,
very difficult to get back

once you lose them.

Back then,
if you weren't on the radio,

there was nothing.

- Let's all grow up.
We're just a pop group.

We're not a political force.

We're just making music.

But I don't think there's
any reason to chalk us off

because we existed in the '70s

and we would like to exist
in the '80s, you know.

Does anybody mind if we exist
in the '80s, thank you?

It was so overwhelming,

and the whole dynamic changed.

There were just crazy days.

I preferred Maurice
as Maurice not being a Bee Gee,

if that makes sense to you.

I preferred him as Maurice,
not being a Bee Gee.

Suddenly, they realized

that they were in
a different position.

Robin went through a kind of...

It wasn't a breakdown,
but it was just something

where he felt very shy
of being in public

and doing things for a while.

The backlash was
a very frightening experience.

When things get to that point,

you're out of control
of the whole thing.

We thought the Bee Gees
better go on the back burner

for a while until this dies down

or something, you know.

We couldn't do anything
as the Bee Gees at all.

Well, backlash,
I'm really good on.

Any band that is successful

is going to have

some form of resist...
That's just the law of nature.

When they get so successful,

sometimes the only
interesting thing

to say about them is,
"Oh, I don't like them.

"Everyone else likes, you know,
'How Deep Is Your Love.'

I don't...
You know, it's stupid."

For bands of my generation,

you understand
about the ups and downs.

You can see it.
Like, where are the pitfalls?

What is the shit
you're gonna take?

When might this happen?
When might that happen?

For those people
that were on the first wave

of sort of global
pop superstardom,

if you wanna call it that,

it was new to them.

Like, "Why does everyone
suddenly hate our band?"

"We sold 8 billion records
last year.

What's the deal?"

So it's confusing.

It was not just the Bee Gees

but the idea of dance

in that period,

it was no longer acceptable

for this kind of music
to carry the weight,

to carry the industry.

Everybody was at that point
in their lives

where they began to look
for other things to do.

And Andy was having
problems too.

- Andy?
Andy...

I saw him in Malibu.

He'd been involved

with a lot of people
who were doing drugs,

and he was doing drugs.

He was doing cocaine.

I talked to him
outside on the balcony,

saying, you know, "This is
really a nice house, Andy."

"It's a nice car out there,
that Porsche.

"Really nice.

You're not gonna keep all this,
you know."

And he said,
"What do you mean?"

I said,
"You do what you're doing,

"this stuff will vanish.

"All this stuff will go.

Your career will go
out the window, everything."

And he says, "I know. I know.
I know what I have to do."

There was a lot of chaos
that I didn't witness,

but I was aware of it.

We were scattered
all over the place

for a little while.

Robin was either in New York,
or Maurice was in England.

I was alone at the time,

and I got a phone call
from Barbra.

She asked me
about writing songs for her,

and that terrified me.

I don't know if I can do this,
you know?

So I called my brothers,

and I said,
"This is what we gotta do.

And let's do it."

And that's how
the "Guilty" album came about.

We really could not get
on the radio.

So the whole idea was
to write for other people.

Let's be songwriters.

Let's try and graduate
from being a group

that's probably...

beginning to fade, you know?

Let's see if we can
dance around that.

It was more about outlets
for writing,

writing songs
that aren't Bee Gees songs.

They have an attitude
somewhere else.

Now, Robin, you and Barry
cowrote "Woman in Love,"

which became
the international smash.

Was it difficult
taking the woman's perspective?

Oh, no.

It's our way of doing things.

We will assume that role

within the song
to write the song.

After
the Barbra Streisand album,

managers would call up
all the time:

"Gee, can I get together
with you guys?

Will you make my record?"

And, you know,
established artists.

It was just as important for us

to have an artist singing
one of our songs

and being on the radio
as it was for ourselves.

When you write a song
with someone in mind

that you really love

and then that person ends up
singing it,

there's no reward like it.

We wrote so many
different types of song,

and that created
that new determination

for us to become
the Bee Gees again.

I think, over time,

we became more and more unified.

By '85,

we really got it together
as a group.

We became a real band again.

We never really had a category.

We just had different periods,

and we managed to fit
into different eras,

and we saw a lot of people

who were the champions
of their era come and go.

We didn't always connect,
but we stayed around.

We managed to defy the criticism

most of the time.

And I just hope and pray

that the music lasts, you know?

Because I begin to recognize

that there's not as much time
in front of me

as there is behind me.

Hi, Australia.

This is Andy Gibb here in Miami,

and I'd like to wish
all you kids...

One more time?

Hi, Australia.

This is Andy Gibb here in Miami,

and I'd like to wish
all the kids

and all my friends in Australia
a very merry Christmas

and a happy New Year.

Barry was first,

and then, in fact, Robin's
half an hour older than I am,

and we're twins,

and that's how we basically met.

Robert Stigwood,
this is for you.

No, you didn't do it.

- You gotta react to the thing.
- What line?

Oh, the reaction?

- Yeah.
- All right.

- It's a close-up.
- Okay.

Oh, yeah, that's right.
Sorry, do it again.

- Yeah, do it again.
- Do it again.

Okay.

Robert Stigwood,
this is for you.

Ladies and gentlemen,

an Oscar nominee
for "Saturday Night Fever,"

John Travolta.

Tonight

the Recording Academy
is celebrating

three brothers
who changed my life

and the world of music forever,

and though brothers Robin
and Maurice are sadly gone,

we are thrilled to be joined
by a brother like no other,

one of the most successful
singer-songwriters

of our times,
my friend Barry Gibb.

They're a brilliant chapter
in the book of music.

You know,
some people are a footnote.

Some people take up...

The Beatles and Dylan
take up huge...

But the Bee Gees are there.

You go back and look
at their body of work,

and it's some of the best
songs ever written.

There's nothing else to say
about the Bee Gees

except they were
fucking awesome.

When I think about it now,

I think about
how it all sort of started.

We just had this dream,

and we thought, "Well",

what do we want
to be famous for?"

It turns out
it was the songwriting.

And I think
everything we set out to do,

we did, against all odds.

I can't honestly come to terms
with the fact

that they're not here anymore.

Never been able to do that.

I'm always reliving it.

It's always,
"What would Robin think?"

or, "What would
Maurice think?"

And Andy.

It never goes away.

And what I wanted to say earlier

is that I'd rather have 'em
all back here,

no hits at all.

Barry, Barry, Barry,

Barry, Barry, Barry,
Barry, Barry, Barry,

Barry, Barry, Barry,
Barry, Barry, Barry.

One, two, three, four.