The Bee Gees: The Odessa Files

Jeff Apter, 'Tragedy: The Ballad of the Bee Gees' (Jawbone), Spring 2016

In 1968, the Bee Gees set out to make their very own Sgt Pepper, an album they hoped would prove they were much more than pop stars with golden voices. But the ensuing album, Odessa, as the following extract from Jeff Apter's Tragedy: The Ballad of the Bee Gees goes to prove, almost destroyed the family band forever.

EVEN YEARS after its creation, Robin Gibb admitted it was "hard to speak about Odessa in any coherent way". The Gibbs set out to create something that their manager Robert Stigwood could reproduce on the stage, as would happen with the Who's Tommy. But to write a cohesive, thematically connected series of songs was a tough challenge for any band, let along three siblings who at the time were avoiding each other as much as humanly possible.

And the storyline of Odessa provided the Gibbs with a major creative challenge. "[It's] about a man on an iceberg after a shipwreck," Barry explained, "and his wife has run away with a vicar. It's very weird." Deaf, dumb and blind Tommy had nothing on the vicar-cuckolded narrator of Odessa, who looked on as his fictional vessel, Veronica, sank beneath the waves. Not your typical pop fodder; more like Titanic with three-part harmonies.

As Barry explained, they were trying their best once more to please their manager. "Because of Tommy and Robert's connection to these type of things, he wanted us to do a rock opera and we wanted to put it on stage. [But] instead of writing a rock opera, we just came up with a mish-mash, a bunch of songs that we thought we were going somewhere with. But I think we were extremely weary . . . we could no longer deal with each other. The three of us drifted apart — in fact, I'd say the four of us drifted apart, including Robert."

Barry, meanwhile, stuck by his line that he was leaving the band to become an actor, although he stressed that he'd meet all their existing commitments — another album, the proposed film, TV special and the rest of it, which would keep the Bee Gees busy until at least 1970. "The group scene is not an everlasting thing," Barry told British music mag Disc, "you can only go so far."

In the spirit of the Beatles' 'Hey Jude' or Richard Harris's 1968 classic, 'MacArthur Park', Odessa's title track was an epic, at seven and a bit minutes, by far the longest song the Gibbs had committed to tape. The Gibbs even discussed splitting it over two sides of a seven inch 45, but then ditched the idea to release 'Odessa' as a single because they didn't want to be accused of copying the Beatles. Stigwood was a big fan of Robin's song, calling him in the middle of the night to express his feelings (and perhaps repay at least one Gibb for their habit of after-hours drop-ins). "It's the greatest pop classic I've ever heard," Stiggy told Robin.

As the Odessa sessions consumed much of the final quarter of 1968, it was pretty clear that tensions between the brothers had reached a new low. While trying to complete one of Odessa's more ambitious tracks, 'Lamplight', in late October, the usually mellow Mo slowly came undone. By take seven, the band inched closer to a complete performance, but the ending was a mess. Take eight was even worse — somehow a platter of vegetables fell onto the piano at which Maurice was seated. "This is the last time I'm doing it," Mo announced, sweeping away the salad, as they prepared for take nine.

"So make sure you know the end," Barry told him.

"I knew it after you started doing it," replied Mo, "but you've changed it 'round again for the second time."

And so the squabble continued. Finally, by take nine, the song was done, but the prickly exchanges in the studio typified the troubles in Gibbland. To complicate matters, Stigwood was preoccupied with staging Hair; for the first time since taking on the Bee Gees, it seemed he wasn't completely committed to the group. (Hair opened on London's West End on 27 September and ran for five years.) Stigwood's attitude didn't help, either, especially when he departed for another American trip and casually instructed Barry, "Take charge of the boys."

"He doesn't quite realise what a strain it can be," a drained Barry told writer David Hughes, citing making the album and their myriad other obligations. "Have you ever tried keeping your own brothers in order?"

Come early December, and Barry found himself alone in the studio. Robin and Maurice were long gone, nowhere to be found. There'd been few instances during the four months of recording when the brothers were in the studio at the same time. Ironically, Barry was putting the finishing touches to the problematical 'Lamplight', working with engineer Mike Wade on the final mix.

Looking around him, Barry took in the lonely scene. "What's the point of this?" he asked Wade. And Barry meant every word. The non-Gibb members of the band were voicing their own concerns. During a break from recording, as the band played a show in Hamburg, Vince Melouney came clean with a reporter. "I have never really felt 100 per cent a Bee Gee," he told the New Musical Express. "Because the talent that I have doesn't come up to the standard of the Gibb brothers' talent." Melouney also grumbled about his treatment by Hugh Gibb; he felt Hugh treated him "like an outsider". It was quite the admission.

On 11 November, Stigwood announced that Melouney was out, referring to "a musical disagreement" between the guitarist and the Gibbs. In a 2006 interview, Melouney cited his problems with Hugh as the main reason for leaving the band; he also called himself "too young, too naïve" to deal with the wild ride that was the Bee Gees. Colin Petersen hung in, but his time as a Bee Gee was also running short. Bizarrely, none of this escalating drama slowed them down.

In between sessions for Odessa, they criss-crossed Europe throughout November — even Robin's marriage to Molly Hullis on 4 December was a hit-and-run affair. They tied the knot at London's Caxton Hall registry office; their honeymoon would have to wait until Odessa was finished. Robin Gibb was still a few weeks shy of his 19th birthday. Curiously, Robin's 'I Started a Joke' began its climb to a US peak of No. 6 within days of their wedding, but for reasons never fully explained, Stigwood decided against releasing the ballad in the UK. This could only have further supported Robin's suspicion that Stiggy was grooming Barry as bandleader.

A few days after Christmas 1968, while Barry was flying back to Sydney for some R&R, Mo appeared on Lulu's TV show, Happening for Lulu. After they performed Donovan's 'What a Beautiful Creature You Are', pop's It couple made an announcement: "We're getting married." They were due to become Mr and Mrs Gibb-Lawrie not long before Lulu sang for England at Eurovision in late March.

It seemed that the world would never stop spinning for the Gibb brothers, what with marriages, departures, escapes and the ever-mounting pressure of creating their big new musical statement. In a playful moment, with a TV camera whirring, Barry posed as a reporter, firing a question at Robin. "What's all this about the band breaking up?" he asked.

Robin replied that there was as much chance of that happening as there was of him becoming "the premier of Russia".

It was a curious exchange: exactly why was Barry asking the question in the first place?

Tragedy: The Ballad of the Bee Gees is available through Jawbone Press (www.jawbonepress.com)

© Jeff Apter, 2016

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