Barry Gibb’s Hardest Song: A Journey Through Grief, Legacy, and the Enigmatic Tape
Barry Gibb stands today as the last surviving member of the Bee Gees, the legendary trio of brothers whose music defined an era and sold over 220 million records worldwide. At 78 years old, Sir Barry Gibb is an icon—an artist knighted for his unparalleled contributions to music, beloved by generations spanning decades. Yet, amid the glittering successes and timeless anthems, there is one song in Barry’s repertoire that he finds impossible to sing, a song weighted with so much grief that it has become the hardest of his life.
For Barry, this song transcends music—it anchors his memories of loss, love, and an unrelenting sorrow bound to the legacy of his brothers.
The Bee Gees were, undeniably, masters of joy and rhythm. Their disco hits like “Stayin’ Alive”, with its urgent heartbeat, soared to become an anthem of survival since 1977, even lending its beat to CPR training sessions around the world. “Night Fever” continues to electrify dance floors decades later, and “How Deep Is Your Love” remains an eternal wedding favorite, embodying devotion and timeless romance.
But the song that cuts deepest through Barry’s heart is “To Love Somebody,” a track first released in 1967 that has carried an aura far different from those dance floor staples.
Initially written for soul legend Otis Redding, who tragically died in a plane crash before recording it, the song returned to the Bee Gees and became one of the most profound ballads ever penned. Covered by an array of artists such as Janis Joplin, Michael Bolton, and Céline Dion, critics have long hailed it as one of the greatest love songs in music history. To countless listeners, it remains tender, universal, and timeless.
Yet, for Barry, “To Love Somebody” is unbearable.
“That song is not just a melody to me—it’s a graveyard of memories. Every lyric carries the voices of those I have loved and lost,” Barry once shared in an interview, his voice heavy with emotion.
Behind this agony lies the heartache of losing his brothers one by one.
The Brothers Lost
Barry’s grief is deeply personal. He has outlived every one of his siblings—the core members of the Bee Gees family.
Andy Gibb, though never an official Bee Gee, was in Barry’s words the “fourth brother” in every sense except the name. Andy followed the Bee Gees’ footsteps with his own soaring solo career, achieving a historic feat as the first male solo artist to have his first three singles top the Billboard Hot 100. His breakout hit, “I Just Want to Be Your Everything,” was written by Barry himself. Yet the pressures of success took a heavy toll. By his early twenties, Andy was battling severe addiction, and after losing his contracts and relationships, he tragically died from heart inflammation worsened by drug abuse just days after his 30th birthday.
“Losing Andy was like losing a piece of ourselves. Barry carried a weight of survivor’s guilt that started then,” explained Stephen Marshall, a longtime family friend and music historian.
Maurice Gibb, the quiet anchor and multi-instrumentalist of the group, was the peacemaker who kept the band together with his patience and humor. After struggling with alcoholism in the 1970s, Maurice found stability in later years. But in 2003, a routine surgery complication caused his death at 53, shocking the family with its suddenness.
“Maurice was the glue; when he was gone, it felt like the Bee Gees lost their heartbeat,” recalled Laura Jenkins, a close family confidante.
Then there was Robin Gibb, Maurice’s twin and Barry’s intricate partner in music and life. Known for his haunting tenor and tempestuous personality, Robin’s voice shaped many of the Bee Gees’ most iconic ballads. His fight with cancer ended in 2012 but not before a battle that brought public hope through his brief rallies and performances.
“Robin’s passing was the final blow to Barry. The end of an era, and the beginning of deep loneliness,” said Mike Reynolds, a journalist who followed the band’s story closely.
Songs Woven with Grief
The joyful history of the Bee Gees’ discography is shadowed for Barry by the pain tied to many songs. “I Started a Joke”, originally sung by Robin, became a haunting memorial after Robin died, with Barry performing solo tours where Robin’s voice played on screen, his silence speaking more than words could.
“Wish You Were Here”, written by Barry after Andy’s passing, resonates with raw grief and brotherly love, a song Barry admits he can barely listen to, let alone perform. Even their energetic disco classics remind him of those missing from the stage.
But nothing carries the heavy burden like “To Love Somebody.” Unlike the pulsating tracks about survival and celebration, this ballad mourns the unfulfilled, the absent, the love that cannot return. Barry said that mere minutes of singing it can break him down in ways no accolade ever could.
Carrying the Torch Alone
After Robin’s death, Barry confronted his grief head-on by returning to the spotlight. The 2013 Mythology Tour became a moving tribute to his brothers, and his 2016 solo album In the Now opened a new chapter, sharing his personal story. Knighted by Prince Charles in 2018, Barry’s recognition cemented his legendary status, yet the emotional cost remains visible on stage, in moments where his eyes betray the survivor’s burden that accompanies every performance.
In 2021, Barry reimagined Bee Gees classics by collaborating with country artists on Greenfields: The Gibb Brothers Songbook, Vol. 1, which debuted at No. 1 in the UK, further proving the enduring power of the brothers’ harmonies.
The Mystery Tape
Adding to the lore surrounding the Bee Gees is a whispered legend of a private recording from the late 1990s, after the group reunited for their Still Waters comeback. Rumored to capture intimate, stripped-down moments—the brothers laughing, harmonizing, and writing together—this tape supposedly includes an unreleased version of “To Love Somebody” with both Robin and Maurice’s harmonies intertwined with Barry’s lead vocal.
No one outside the family has ever heard this mystical recording. Barry has neither confirmed nor denied its existence. Fans speculate that if the tape is real, Barry might listen to it privately, preserving the voices of his brothers in a deeply personal way. Others consider it a myth, a yearning fan tale to cope with the closed chapter of the Bee Gees vault.
“That tape, if it exists, might be too painful to share. Some secrets are for family only,” mused Jennifer Lawson, a Bee Gees biographer.
A Legacy Etched in Love and Loss
More than the dazzling falsettos and disco lights, the story of the Bee Gees is about brotherhood, brilliance, and heartbreak. Their music was born not of fleeting trends but of a blood bond that created harmonies impossible to replicate. Barry Gibb now stands as the final custodian of that family legacy.
To the world, the Bee Gees remain icons of joy and unforgettable music. To Barry, their songs carry the weight of grief, and at the heart of it all lies “To Love Somebody,” once just a ballad, now a wound that time will never heal.
Perhaps somewhere out there lies that secret tape—three brothers singing together one last time, their voices forever intertwined. Whether the world will ever hear it remains unknown, but Barry carries it with him—in every stage, every song, and every silent moment between the notes.
