RIP: Robin Gibb

It was with much sadness that I heard today that Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees has passed away after a lengthy battle with pancreatic cancer. He was just 62 years of age.



I feel sad because, besides the fact that he had an incredible voice and was a master songwriter, Robin Gibb formed part of a group that were instrumental to my childhood. I have often said (and even written) that my childhood was blessed with the amazing music of the 1970s and early '80s. And the Bee Gees were an indelible part of that music.

Some people may have bitched that the Bee Gees were too 'high pitched' or that their sound was 'too disco', but that was mere distraction from the fact that their sound was pitch perfect, vocally rich and resolutely and distinctly theirs.

Say what you will about the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever, for example, but it defined an era, gave the 1970s its hallmark dance moves and just made everyone with half a sense of rythm just want to dance, dance, dance. And the Bee Gees were fulcrul to the sound and beat of what still remains the best-selling soundtrack of all time.

And that is not to say that the Bee Gees were all about disco and pop, because that would be far from true. They were already going strong in the late '60s, but I cannot confess to know that period of their music very well. I should perhaps make an effort to search it out and listen well. I do know that Robin may have been the quieter, more slight of the three brothers in the group, but also know that his unique voice and prodigious writing talent were well respected in the music industry, even if begrudgingly.

Only the eldest of the trio of brothers who comprised this mega group, Barry, remains alive. It was as if the group were on a slow ember, refusing to go out and still flickering away like an ephemeral soundtrack in the mind. Now it really does feel like the Bee Gees have finally come to an end. And that is very sad indeed.

It has been noted by an online journalist that Robin Gibb's death just three days after that of Donna Summer must be making disco fans feel their mortality. I may have been very young when John Travolta was strutting his sexy stuff to Staying Alive, but I do know what they mean.