Installment #46 in Monolisticle's Ongoing Campaign Against the "Internet of Endless Listicles."
Earth, Wind, and Fire survived the Disco backlash. So did ABBA. Michael Jackson not only survived it, he emerged from it as the king of an entirely new musical genre: Pop.
The Bee Gees, however, did not.
Largely because they were the most disco of all the disco groups—and by far the most emblematic—they bore the brunt of the disco backlash (which unfortunately culminated in the notorious "Disco Demolition Night" led by Chicago DJ Steve Dahl after a White Sox game in 1979—an event which many say had as much to do with homophobia and racism as it did disco).
The film title How Can You Mend A Broken Heart could easily be seen as an allegory for the entire 1970s. How can you forgive the sloppy hairstyles? How can you forgive the obnoxiously colossal shirt collars? How can you forgive the ubiquitous and cringe-worthy color combination of avocado-green, mustard-yellow, and brown? And how can you forgive the manhood-constricting (and revealing) polyester pants, oh my?
But after watching Frank Marshall’s new film, I’m ready to embrace at least one aspect of the 1970s: the musical significance of The Bee Gees. I was surprised by how great their music truly is. And the sheer magnitude of hits. Experiencing their music in the broader context that the film provides, it’s also much easier to see how distinctive it is (and as a creative person, I value distinctiveness more than anything).
Having watched so many films about artists and bands, I'm struck by how much the cultural context of the music and the personal struggles and influences of the artists affect my actual appreciation for the music. I didn't really love the music of The Doors until I watched Oliver Stone's film about them. And I didn't really love the music of The Notorious B.I.G., until I watched Emmett Malloy's recent film Biggie: I Got a Story to Tell.
However (ironically), in the case of the Bee Gees it was also partly the separation from cultural context that allowed me to better appreciate their work. Being away from their songs for so long, and distanced from all the things I deplore about the 70s, I could actually judge their work cleanly and untainted on its own merit.
By the way, kudos to The Bee Gees and their music producers for finding their own music style and unique voice—quite literally. Choosing to employ Barry Gibb’s falsetto as a constant fixture, rather than an occasional punctuation, or pace change, was legitimately pioneering (the manhood-constricting pants helped a bit on the falsetto front, I’m sure).
All the disco backlash commentary and kidding aside, I should acknowledge the other deeper layer of subtext to the film. Which is heartache and regret. Because at the center of all the relentlessly consuming forces of culture, glamor, and ego that pummel bands are three men who also happen to be brothers.
That tricky and challenging dynamic creates a relationship that is powerful, but also its own kind of difficult. Hearts were broken. Then mended. Then broken again. Which to me makes this film feel as much like an ode to reconciliation and redemption as it does a chronicle of a band's life and music.
I enjoyed that bit of wisdom, and the takeaway for me is that we all need to be better at seeing the hurtful effects in the moment and not waiting until so late in life to try to mend them.
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