Recently I started getting obsessed with the various strata of compilations and what they say about a band. At the bottom level, you’ve got your “best of,” which states that this material is the best the band has to offer, but doesn’t really make any claims beyond that. Next is “greatest hits,” which implies a certain popularity based on the assertion that at least some of these songs have charted. (I realize these two are rarely used strictly in this context, but that’s what they should mean.)Then you’ve got singles compilations. This is where it starts to get impressive, because a artist with enough a-sides to fill an entire album makes some claim to longevity and consistency. And on the topmost rung, the king of compilations, is the number ones album. Only a few artists have enough numbers ones to achieve this feat, among them Elvis, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, and of course (or maybe surprisingly), the Bee Gees.
And so the first stop on my beyond-disco tour of the Bee Gees is their hits compilation Number Ones. While the Bee Gees have plenty of great albums that are worth getting into, Number Ones is an ideal gateway to the band’s catalog. Arranged chronologically, it spans the bulk of their career and range of styles from 1967 through 2001. It’s also a testament to their popularity and the echelon of the music world to which they rightly belong. (It’s worth noting that the album represents worldwide numbers ones — many of them were not U.S. number ones, and their popularity here was pretty variable. I’d be curious to know more about how the Bee Gees are regarded in the UK.)
The earliest Bee Gees songs sound a bit like the Beatles if you were to strip away every sound and image that could properly be called rock ’n’ roll. The result is the purest distillation of pop: sublime melodies and vocal harmonies set against a backdrop of string arrangements and only the politest guitars. This music is not cool, but it is good. The first number one, 1967’s “Massachusetts,” sets the tone, and its narrative of failed hippiedom is a kind of metaphor for the Bee Gees themselves, out of place among their far-out ’60s peers. The first five tracks on the album stick to the same template, but the quality of the melodies prevents them from getting too same-y. For me, this early period ends with “I Started a Joke,” a song so beautifully abstract that it demands (and will get) its own blog post.
Next up is a run of songs that demonstrate greater stylistic experimentation. This is the Bee Gee’s creative, Revolver-like mid-period. “Don’t Forget to Remember” sounds like 1950s country, and “Lonely Days” tempers a classic Bee Gees verse with an almost rollicking chorus backed by a stomping piano and even some horns. This impulse toward a less wimpy sound would lead to the magnificent Mr. Natural and Main Course albums, of which “Jive Talking’” is sadly the only track that made it to number one. This one’s got a beat, and it’s one of the earliest uses of the iconic Barry falsetto, particularly appealing here thanks to a soon-to-be-abandoned restraint.
“Jive Talkin’” was the first step on the road to the disco years, and the next group of songs on Number Ones encompasses the Saturday Night Fever period. I’ve already covered the Bee Gee’s disco sound pretty thoroughly, so I won’t spend a lot of time on it here other to say these songs are great, and it’s fun to listen to them in the context of the band’s overall evolution.
Finally the album wraps up with the Bee Gees’ adult contemporary years. These songs are not the Bee Gee’s strongest, but they’re improbably listenable. The tracks from the hugely popular Spirits Having Flown album move away from disco but retain a certain dance/soul vibe. “Tragedy” is an earworm nonpareil despite the incomprehensible delivery, and “Too Much Heaven” captures a little of heart-gripping balladry of “How Deep is your Love.” I actually quite like “You Win Again,” the Bee Gee’s last real worldwide hit from 1987. It’s similar to late-period Abba, and the Gibbs have wisely abandoned their worn ’70s trademarks, most likely in response to an aging fanbase and disco’s tarnished reputation. It’s not a triumphant ending, but it’s better than many middle-aged pop groups could pull off.
(The final song on the album is 2001’s “Man in the Middle,” which as far as I can tell was not actually a number one. I believe was included because it’s a Maurice lead vocal and the album was released shortly after his death. It’s not bad, but “You Win Again” feels like the real ending to this disc.)
Taken as a whole, the Bee Gees’ career is one of the strangest in pop. They were hitmakers despite being deeply uncool. They were defined by disco despite dabbling in a variety of genres. They made forays into styles and trends that have not aged well, yet those songs are better than they really should be, largely on the strength of their melodies. But this lack of cred takes nothing away from the astonishing number of beautiful, memorable songs they recorded. Number Ones stands as an achievement in its own right and an excellent introduction to a deep and wonderful career.