Six months after the Bee Gees released “Tragedy,” culture war in the U.S. ignited … literally.
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They were one of the biggest acts in the world, but the Gibb brothers and their prolific songwriting would soon face a virtual radio ban. They went from chart-topping stars to pariahs and the butt of jokes as “Tragedy” became one of their final hits before the storm.
Trying to Stay Alive
“Tragedy” follows an emotional breakdown from a breakup. Barry Gibb sings in a wailing falsetto voice about the despair of one suddenly finding themselves alone.
Here I lie
In a lost and lonely part of town
Held in time
In a world of tears, I slowly drown
Goin’ home
I just can’t make it all alone
I really should be holding you
Holding you
Loving you, loving you
Barry and his brothers Robin and Maurice Gibb co-wrote the song, which appeared on their 15th album Spirits Having Flown (1979). The album was the first to follow their collaboration on the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, which featured Bee Gees classics “Stayin’ Alive,” “How Deep Is Your Love,” “Night Fever,” “Jive Talkin’,” “More than a Woman,” and “You Should Be Dancing.”
The chart-topping album marked the cultural peak of disco, and soon, the backlash would target the Bee Gees.
Tragedy
When the feeling’s gone, and you can’t go on
It’s tragedy
When the morning cries, and you don’t know why
It’s hard to bear
With no one to love you
You’re goin’ nowhere
Backlash and a Radio Blackout
The Bee Gees’ commercial peak ended with Spirits Having Flown. Though the album reached No. 1 in both the U.S. and UK, 1979 and 1980 marked the end of disco’s commercial reign.
However, it was only a rebranding as record companies began labeling similar recordings as dance music. But the Bee Gees, especially in the U.S., faced a near-total radio blackout of their music. Following the success of Saturday Night Fever, they had become disco’s avatar.
The group attempted to counter the narrative by releasing the ballad “Too Much Heaven” as the first single from Spirits Having Flown, but the critical description persisted.
Disco Demolition Night
A July 1979 radio promotion dreamed up the idea to blow up a crate of disco records at Comiskey Park in Chicago between games of a doubleheader—it was dubbed Disco Demolition Night. The televised event of mostly young white men storming the field ended disco’s commercial viability.
Meanwhile, there was much more to the hostility toward disco. Beyoncé’s 2022 Renaissance album details how disco provided a safe space for Black, Latino, gay, and feminist communication.
In the early ’70s, disco began in gay dance clubs, but Saturday Night Fever later converted the scene into the mainstream’s consciousness. The PBS documentary The War on Disco explains the grievance of blue-collar white kids who weren’t hip enough to enter clubs like Studio 54. It was a flash point for class, race, gender, and sexuality.
It Began With a Disgruntled DJ
Steve Dahl, a DJ for Chicago’s WDAI, lost his job on Christmas Eve in 1978 when the station switched formats from album rock to disco. Dahl moved to a new station, WLUP, and launched a “Disco Sucks” campaign.
He devised the Disco Demolition Night with the Chicago White Sox promotions director Mike Veeck. They planned for 20,000 fans, but 50,000 showed up instead. The White Sox were scheduled to play a doubleheader against the Detroit Tigers.
During the first game, the crowd became agitated, and fans threw records, firecrackers, and bottles onto the playing field. After exploding a crate of disco records, fans stormed the field, and the White Sox forfeited the second game as the field became unplayable.
Resurrection
Though the Bee Gees’ commercial career suffered, they instead focused on songwriting. Barry and Robin Gibb wrote Barbra Streisand’s 1980 hit “Woman in Love.” Also, Dionne Warwick recorded “Heartbreaker,” written by Barry, Robin, and Maurice Gibb—reaching No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.
Yet, disco didn’t die; it evolved. The 1980s became dominated by dance-oriented pop music from Michael Jackson, Prince, and Madonna, among many others. It thrived in late ’80s and early ’90s Manchester, England, with its baggy “Madchester” rave scene and new forms of global electronic music, including EDM.
When the Bee Gees released “Tragedy,” they couldn’t have known how prescient the song’s title would be. However, if disco died, no one told Daft Punk, Pharrell, Mark Ronson, or Dua Lipa.
Dua Lipa’s “Dance the Night” from the Barbie soundtrack is nearing a billion streams. You can’t blow those up on a baseball field.
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Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images
