Barry Gibb stands today as the last surviving member of the legendary Bee Gees, a band that not only defined the disco era but also revolutionized popular music across generations. Alongside his brothers Robin and Maurice, and with the bittersweet memory of their youngest sibling Andy, Barry helped craft timeless classics such as Stayin’ Alive, How Deep Is Your Love, and Night Fever. These songs have sold more than 220 million records worldwide, becoming an indelible part of modern cultural history. Yet, despite this monumental success, all the gold records, and global acclaim, there remains one song Barry Gibb cannot bring himself to sing. This track transcends mere music—it’s the hardest song of his life.
That haunting song is To Love Somebody. Released in 1967, it came before the Bee Gees’ rise to disco fame and was initially written with the legendary Otis Redding in mind. Tragically, after Redding’s sudden death, the song stayed with the Bee Gees and rose to become one of the most cherished love ballads of all time. Covered by icons from Janis Joplin to Michael Bolton and Celine Dion, the song has endured for decades as one of the greatest love songs ever penned. However, for Barry, its lyrics carry a painfully personal meaning. Every time he hears To Love Somebody, memories of loss, not romance, flood his heart.
Barry has endured the unthinkable: the loss of all three of his brothers. Andy, the youngest, died tragically young at just 30 years old in 1988. Maurice, the group’s steady anchor, passed away suddenly during surgery in 2003. Robin, Barry’s creative partner and brother in harmony, lost his battle to cancer in 2012. Once surrounded by the magical harmonies of his brothers, Barry now stands alone. Each time he tries to sing To Love Somebody, he’s haunted by the voices that are no longer there. While fans cherish it as one of the greatest love songs ever created, for Barry, the song represents a wound that refuses to heal.
Adding to the haunting nature of this story is a revelation Barry made in recent years: he has come into possession of a tape—a recording from one of his late brothers that nobody knew existed. The details remain vague, and Barry has not publicly confirmed the tape’s full contents, but rumors swirl about a possible unreleased version of To Love Somebody—where Robin and Maurice’s voices join Barry’s in harmony one last time. For Bee Gees fans, this would be the holy grail, a final testament to the unbreakable bond shared by the brothers.
Yet maybe this tape remains unheard for a reason. Music gave the Gibb brothers not only fame and immortality but also brought unbearable grief to Barry. Every hit song is bittersweet—a triumph intertwined with a deep reminder of loss. To the outside world, these songs live on as symbols of joy, love, and nostalgia. But to Barry, they are resonant shadows of the family he has buried one by one.
And so, the mystery lingers like an unspoken secret: Does this secret tape truly exist? If it does, will Barry ever share it with the world? Or is it something too personal, too painful to ever leave his hands?