More Here
▼
Groove Issue 1: The Bee Gees
Blood IS thicker
than water,
even in the
upside-down world
of pop music. Somehow
one expects
groups to break up,
now
and again,
because it's hard to
keep different-type
personalities,
tied together
merely by a musical
aim, happy in
off-stage moments.
So groups
DO break up because
of clashes that
come from something
as trivial as an
odd personal
habit. Some, like
the Hollies, stick
together because
they realise that
each has to live
his own personal
life off stage.
But when
the Bee Gees, three
brothers- Barry, and
twins Maurice
and Robin- decided
they'd had
enough, the pop
world positively
floated on rumours
and counter rumours.
These brothers,
each a
most likeable
character, really went
at each other
hammer and tongs.
Their parents were
dragged into
the verbal punch-ups
and, in the
end, the world
got tired of hearing
about the latest
row.
Groups of
equal status had
split, mostly
for reasons of musical
policy, and one
story stating the
facts had been enough.
But the
Bee Gees seemed
to have a fresh
"sensation"
every day of the week.
A bore. One
long, dreary bore.
We reckoned that if
they didn't
ever speak
to each other again,
did speak,
and eventually record
to think the fans
would come
running and
queuing up to buy
the discs.
But the boys DID
get together
and the
fans instantly forgave
them, because their
very first record
got into the
charts. Fair
enough, we
all thought, because
the Bee Gees had
always tried
for an ambitious kind
of pop that
reached way above
the routine.
Like using massed
trumpeters and
sixty musicians
for an Albert Hall
concert. Like
creating a sound that
was instantly
recognisable. Like
. . . oh,
like a lot of different
things.
So it's a warm
welcome back
to the trio. And
time to re-cap on
just how it all
started for these
Manchester lads
who started the
road to fame
in Australia. They'll
probably make a film
of the story
one day, so this can
act as a
trailer ..
.
The boys' dad , Hugh
Gibb, a
bandleader, gave
Barry a special
Christmas present
one year - a
guitar. He
churned out the songs
of the day by the Stars
of the
day, like Tommy
Steele and Paul
Anka - and
soon the twins joined
in. The year was 1956.
cinema, one Saturday morning,
planning to mime to the Everly
Brothers' hit single "Wake Up
Little Susie". Unfortunately
Barry
broke that record - so the boys
had to sing it live. His six-year-old
twin brothers coped pretty well.
They earned a shilling each for
their efforts.
More important, they got a real
kick out of going up there on
stage. School-work was forgotten
as they planned towards their
Saturday morning appearances. But
out of the blue, it was decided
that the family would go to Australia.
They found a certain amount
of trouble because the local kids
weren't too keen on the English
kids. Barry left school at the age
of thirteen, determined that he'd
make his way in show-business.
Later still, they became the
Gibb Brothers and sang around
various halls and arenas. One was
a stock car-racing circuit - they'd
put on a show in the middle
between races. They were showered
with coins. As Barry says now:
"It was a VERY painful
way to
receive your pay-packet." A
discjockey
named Bill Gates encouraged
the boys - and it was from his
initials that the name Bee Gees was
derived.
But not before they'd also had
spells working as the Rattlesnakes
and Wee Johnny Hayes and the
Blue Cats. A top Australian singer
named Col Joye eventually helped
them along and they got a recording
contract which resulted in a
series of pretty disastrous flop
records. And then the Beatles
carne along. As far as Australia
was concerned, they just happened
out of nowhere, but as far as the
Bee Gees were concerned they
were regarded as a terrible menace.
"They thought we were copying
these new-boy Beatles", admitted
Barry. "And though the Beatles
hadn't even visited the country,
it was obvious it wasn't big enough
for both of us.
"Even so, we reckoned that if
Brian Epstein had so cleverly built
the Beatles, he could do the same
for us. So we sent him our records.
of them, but he sent them on to
Robert Stigwood, an Australian
agent, and we decided to follow
up our parcel by going back to
Britain."
In fact, they landed at
Southampton
and they had only a fiver
between the whole family. It was
disappointment all the way. Even
Robert Stigwood felt the group
scene was dead in Britain – every
body is copying
the Beatles and
there are
too many of them. It's
just about
impossible for anybody
to break
th rough nowadays."
"New York
Mining Disaster"
broke through for
the Bee Gees,
though. And their
career went well
afterwards, with
such as "World"
"I've Just Got
To Get A Message
To You" and
so on. Bold, imaginative
story-line pop. All
blessed with
very full and expensive
arrangements.
They had Colin
Peterson and
Vince Melouney in
the general
backing, the fourth
and fifth Bee
Gees - and
there were sounds of
uproar when the
Home Office
decreed that these
two genuine
Australians had to
return home
"down
under" because their work
permits had expired.
"If they go,
we go", said
Barry with determination.
That problem was
resolved, but
not before many
girl fans had
chained themselves
to the railings
at Buckingham
Palace by way of
protest.
But trouble was
never to be far
away from the Bee
Gees. First,
Vince Melouney
left. Then Colin
Peterson. Then
Robin, left in his
own brand of high
dudgeon. It
looked as
if the Bee Gees would
end up
just as a duo - Maurice and
Barry. But even
they split.
Now the arguments
are over.
The three brothers
are back together.
Each is married; Maurice
to top popper Lulu
and they
have their own
lives, their own
bases, to act as
a sort of antidote
to the on-stage
performances.
AU the same, when
brother turns
against brother,
the noise can be
heard a long way
off. There aren't
too many "family"
units in pop
.music, and the Bee
Gees were big
enough to
merit all the headlines.
Now, with a hit
single and a
magnificent album
arriving out of
the re-union, the
Bee Gees realise
just where they
went wrong before.
Says Robin: "We
didn't talk to
each other. That
was the trouble.
We'd tum up for
work and have
our own grievances
against the
others and just
keep it all bottled
up. Eventually
there had to be a
terrible explosion.
It was never as
bad as some of the
stories suggested,
but no matter- it
was bad
enough that it was
a family turned
upside-down against
itself.
"Now, if anything
is getting us
down, we talk about
it. I guess you
could say that it
was due to the
strain of trying to
stay at the top
-because, deep
down, we all like
to look for
perfection. But it must
have been tough for
the fans - it
was almost as
if we were expecting
them to take sides
in what was a
family
dispute."
Castle" was
shown a few months
back on television and underlined
the talent for improvisation
and
comedy within the
group. Actually
all the brothers
are serious minded.
They smile
easily enough,
but they take life very seriously.
One thing
now is certain.
They've stopped
offering advice to
each other
in the way they did
before. For example,
Barry claiming
that Maurice shouldn't
marry
Lulu because he
was "too young
and immature" was
hardly calculated
to bring about
peace and
harmony. Now they
work together-
but they also
work separately
on their own special interests in show business.
Said Maurice: "Just
one thing,
though. Tell the
fans we're going
to work together for
them ... it's
the fans who really
matter in the
long run. Some of
their letters
over the past year
or so have really
touched' us- they've
been so obviously
keen on all of us getting
together and
working again."
Yet there were
people who
thought the whole
family feud
built up
solely for publicity. You
should
ask Mr. and Mrs. Gibb
senior about that- they
were completely
heartbroken a t
the way
the boys grew
apart and even refused
to speak to
each other.
Maybe it
isn't easy even for
brothers who sing
in harmony to
live in harmony.
But the Gibb
brothers, Barry
and Maurice
and Robin , are trying
very hard indeed.
And that's a personal
promise from them.
Forrest Bess
Forrest Bess (October 5, 1911 – November 10, 1977) Painter, fisherman, visionary, eccentric - Forrest Bess was one of the most original American artists of his generation. Born in Bay City, Texas, Bess picked up his love of art from his mother. His father worked in the oil fields and ran a bait fishing camp of the Texas coast in Chinquapin. After a short stint in the army where he suffered a slight breakdown related to a head injury, Bess moved to this isolated bait camp and began painting his uncontrollable visions. During his most creative period, 1949 through 1967, Bess showed at Betty Parsons Gallery in New York City, along with artists like Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko. In the 1950s, he also began a lifelong correspondence with art professor and author Meyer Schapiro, and sexologist John Money. In these and other letters (which were donated to the Smithsonian Archives of American Art) Bess makes it clear that his paintings were only part of a grander theory, based on alchemy, the philosophy of Carl Jung, and the rituals of Australian aborigines, which proposed that becoming a hermaphrodite was the key to immortality. In 1960, Bess operated on himself to become a pseudo-hermaphrodite. This physical manifestation of his theory never achieved the results he had hoped for and, ironically, this quest for immortality was the beginning of a slow decline in both his health and his creative output. In 1977, he died in a nursing home in Bay City, Texas after a long battle with alcoholism. Throughout his career, Bess admired the work of Albert Pinkham Ryder and Arthur Dove, but the best of his paintings stand alone as truly original works of art. His best art consists of only about 100 small paintings, many with simple driftwood frames that he built himself. The majority of these paintings are in private collections, although the Menil Collection, Houston, the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago, Museum of Modern Art in New York, and The Whitney Museum in New York have Bess paintings in their collections.
(From Wikipedia)
http://hyperallergic.com/48032/poor-forrest-dead-and-gone/