Robin Gibb – The Fragile Voice, the Haunted Soul of the Bee Gees
Robin Gibb was always the quiet twin — the fragile vibrato behind the Bee Gees’ most haunting songs. To the public, he was a gifted musician with a voice that could make the world stop and listen. But behind the stage lights was a man whose life spiraled through genius, addiction, scandal, and heartbreak.
Born Ahead of His Brother
Robin Hugh Gibb entered the world early in the morning of December 22, 1949, in the Jane Crookall Maternity Home on the Isle of Man — arriving 35 minutes before his twin, Maurice. In family lore, that small gap became symbolic: Robin, always just a little ahead, quieter and more introspective, while Maurice carried a more playful spirit.
Their father, Hugh Gibb, was a drummer and bandleader; their mother, Barbara, a singer with a soft, lilting voice. Music was the family’s language. Nights in the Gibb household weren’t quiet — they were filled with jazz rhythms and harmonies, long before the boys could even talk.
From Mischief to Music
The Gibb brothers were far from angelic. In mid-1950s Manchester, Barry, Maurice, and Robin earned reputations as neighborhood troublemakers — skipping school, setting small fires, breaking into shops. But music soon redirected that restless energy. Robin, at just eight years old, once told a neighbor: “We’re going to be rich one day. We’re going to form a band.” It sounded like a child’s fantasy — until it came true.
Australia and the First Taste of Fame
In 1958, economic hardship pushed the family to emigrate to Australia. Performing at a local speedway, the boys sang between motorcycle races — collecting coins thrown by the crowd. Within years, they were signed to Festival Records and, by 1966, had their first hit with “Spicks and Specks”.
But Robin’s voice truly broke through when they returned to England in 1967. The haunting “New York Mining Disaster 1941” and “Massachusetts” put Robin’s trembling vibrato front and center, turning the Bee Gees into international stars.
The First Collapse
Fame came fast, and so did the cracks. In July 1968, at only 18, Robin collapsed from nervous exhaustion — the first sign the pressures of fame were eating away at him. A year later, tensions with Barry over single choices pushed Robin to quit the Bee Gees. His solo single “Saved by the Bell” reached No. 2 in the UK, but the brothers’ magic suffered. By 1970, Robin returned — the first of many breakups and reunions.
Reinvention and Global Domination
The early ’70s were lean, but a move to Miami in 1975, guided by producer Arif Mardin, birthed a new Bee Gees sound — funk, R&B, and Barry’s falsetto layered over Robin’s aching harmonies. Then came Saturday Night Fever. Songs like “Stayin’ Alive” and “How Deep Is Your Love” didn’t just define disco — they became part of pop culture forever. By the end of the ’70s, the Bee Gees had sold millions and were among the world’s most successful acts.
The Spiral Into Addiction and Scandal
Behind the success, Robin was falling apart. At 17, he had begun using Methedrine, a powerful form of methamphetamine. By his 30s, he was using heavily — staying awake for days, skipping food, and writing in manic bursts. The drug fueled paranoia, violent mood swings, and destructive behavior.
The FBI once investigated Robin for sending death threats to his estranged wife, Molly Hullis, during their bitter divorce. One chilling message read: “I have taken out a contract. It is now a question of time.” Though charges were never filed, the episode revealed how far he had unraveled.
His drug use also fueled a compulsive sex addiction — with over 100 re
Marriage, Chaos, and Unlikely Loyalty
Robin met Molly Hullis in 1967, saving her life months later during the Hither Green rail disaster, pulling her through a broken train window. They married in 1968 but divorced in 1980 amid scandal. In 1985, Robin married Dwina Murphy-Gibb, an eccentric artist and writer. Their marriage was unconventional, open, and at times publicly scandalous — yet deeply bonded. Dwina stood by him through his worst years, understanding him in ways others could not.
Loss of a Twin
On January 12, 2003, tragedy struck: Maurice Gibb died unexpectedly from complications during surgery for a twisted intestine. For Robin, it was like losing half of himself. “It was as if half my soul had been ripped away,” he said. Though he continued to work, performing solo and supporting charities, the joy had gone.
Final Battle
In 2011, Robin was diagnosed with colon cancer. At first, it seemed he might survive — the cancer even went into remission. But in April 2012, his health collapsed. It wasn’t cancer that killed him, but organ failure brought on by years of strain and treatment. Three days before his death, he was still alert, watching DVDs and talking with family. His final words were about Maurice. He missed him. He asked for “How Deep Is Your Love” to be played at his funeral.
On May 20, 2012, Robin Gibb died at age 62. The voice that had once trembled with life’s deepest sorrows was silenced.
The Legacy
Robin Gibb’s life was one of contradictions — genius and chaos, tenderness and destruction. He was a man who could turn the hum of a plane engine into “I Started a Joke”, yet also send shivers through his friends with his self-destruction. Through it all, his music remains: fragile, haunting, and unforgettable.
As Paul Gambaccini once said: “Robin Gibb was one of the greatest white soul voices ever.” His songs still echo — reminders of a man who lived on the edge but sang straight to the heart.