Introduction:
**“We’ve Been Around a Long Time”:
A Rare, Candid, and Chaotic Sit-Down With the Bee Gees**
When Barry, Robin, and Maurice Gibb walked onto the set, the audience erupted. The Bee Gees — already icons by this point — slid into their seats with an effortless mix of charm, mischief, and quiet confidence. The host opened with a self-deprecating apology for the “slightly cheesy introduction,” but none of them seemed to mind.
After all, cheese was nothing compared to what they’d lived through.
“We’ve been around a long time,” Barry acknowledged with a grin. “Highs and lows — but mostly highs.”
The laughter came quickly, followed by the inevitable question about Barry’s famous falsetto.
“Were you working with Mickey Mouse at the time?” the host teased.
Barry fired back without hesitation:
“No — he got his voice from me.”
The Birth of the Falsetto
It wasn’t destiny, he explained — it was a record producer with an unusual suggestion.
“He said, ‘Can you go into the studio and try screaming at the end of a song called Nights on Broadway?’ So I tried screaming. And then I tried screaming in tune.”
He shrugged.
“Screaming and tuning don’t usually go together… but somehow it worked.”
From that moment forward, the falsetto became a Bee Gees trademark — a sound that defined an era and electrified the disco revolution.
Robin leaned in, joking that he didn’t mind his brother hitting the high notes, “as long as he only did it on a few songs.” Maurice, ever the comedian, threw himself fully into the bit, prompting even more laughter from the audience.
Saturday Night Fever: A Blessing and a Millstone
The conversation drifted naturally to Saturday Night Fever, the global phenomenon that both immortalized the Bee Gees and occasionally weighed them down.
“It stamped an identity on you,” the host said. “And sometimes you get the blame for it.”
Barry shook his head. “Fashion forgot the ’70s — until now. Everyone’s wearing the clothes again. You probably still have yours.”
“My daughters have mine,” he added, laughing.
The brothers still owned the original outfits — sequins, flares, and all — relics from a decade many tried to forget, but the Bee Gees could never escape.
Sgt. Pepper: The Film They’d Rather Forget
The host couldn’t resist bringing up another project:
“You played The Beatles in Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”
Barry sighed playfully. “Not an entirely happy experience.”
A diplomatic understatement.
Hitmakers Across Genres
Despite the controversies and fashion crimes of the era, the Bee Gees remained one of the most successful songwriting teams in history. Their songs have become country hits, pop standards, R&B staples — their fingerprints are everywhere.
“How do you write hit songs?” the host asked.
Barry smirked. “We get together, put our heads together… try to find the same headspace.”
Robin quipped, “You’ve been in America too long.”
The brothers dissolved into laughter.
Child Stars Without the Damage
Talk eventually turned to childhood — to fame, family, and the way early stardom had shaped them. The host compared them to other famous musical siblings who struggled as adults.
“You seem well-adjusted,” he said.
“Ups and downs,” Barry admitted. “We’ve had adversity. But I think we’ve learned how to deal with it.”
Drugs? Sex? Rock and roll?
“Yes, all of that,” they said — but without the destruction that swallowed so many peers.
From Manchester Rattlesnakes to Australian Teen Idols
The brothers traced their journey back to Manchester, performing as The Rattlesnakes at the Gaumont Cinema.
“That didn’t work too well,” Barry said.
They changed their name repeatedly — Johnny Hayes and the Blue Cats, The Levers — before finally becoming the Bee Gees.
Their father eventually moved the family to Australia “to keep us out of trouble.”
“We were the last criminals deported to Australia,” Maurice joked.
Outback humor aside, Australia shaped them. They grew up on television, performing in clubs to adult audiences because there was no pop scene yet.
“We were like a dirty version of the Osmonds,” Barry said.
The Return to England — and Stardom
By the time they returned to Britain in the late 1960s, the musical landscape had shifted. The Beatles were nearing their breakup, leaving space for a new generation.
Their lush harmonies and sweeping ballads — Massachusetts, Words, To Love Somebody — became instant classics.
Performing them now, Barry said, still felt like coming home.
“We try to cover everything when we do a show. They’re like our babies.”
The Breakup That Didn’t Last
For a brief moment, the Bee Gees split — an ego-fueled fracture that lasted only a few months.
“We realized we didn’t enjoy being on our own,” Barry admitted.
Robin had a hit with Saved by the Bell, prompting light teasing from his brothers.
“I might just leave,” Robin said dramatically.
Seconds later:
“Well, I guess I’d better join you.”
The audience roared.
A Perfectly Imperfect Ending
The interview wrapped in chaos — Robin and Maurice walking off as part of the joke, Barry following with theatrical resignation, and the host closing the show with a deadpan:
“Thank you to all my guests… those who stayed and those who’ve gone.”
A final question lingered in the air.
“Do you think it was something he said?”
The credits rolled. The laughter continued.
It was a perfect Bee Gees moment — unpredictable, affectionate, and unforgettable.