The man is an icon. Some might say I’m twenty years too late to hop on the Barry Gibb bandwagon but I disagree. I loved the Bee Gees back in the day. I may have only been in the sixth grade when the Bee Gees put out New York City Mining Disaster but you’d have to be on another planet not to have been affected by this song. Of course I owned and played the shit out of my Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and went on to buy and love many future Bee Gees albums and 45’s. But I never felt anything for the Brothers Gibb that was more than platonic.
But last night watching American Idol, all that changed. Dammit, Barry is sexy. His voice, his hair, his talent and all those years of experience have turned him into quite the package. Gone are the 28 inch waist white satin pants and in their place is a hip but much more distinguished look – more of a bearded, blue jeaned casual confident producer.
So, Barry, let’s have coffee. I’m married and have a 2 year-old but we could hang out and gossip. We could talk about how Blake sucks and how great Jordin Sparks is and how much we want to want Lakisha to still win but how our love for her is so tough to sustain. Sure, we love Melinda but do we let our love of her voice get in the way of our sure knowledge that Jordin would get the most out of winning the show? Barry, I would place money on both of us having had the same reaction to Blake. When I watched you watching Blake in the rehearsal playback I knew we were on the same page. What the hell is he doing and where in the hell are his lips? We probably had this idea at the same time: Meg Ryan could give Blake some of her silicone and even things out! I know! Perfect!
The thing is, Bar, I know you run deep. I know you’ve been through a lot. You’ve lost two brothers and I don’t know what that’s like but I’m pretty sure you never get over it, just get through it. You’ve come through a lot and turned out to be the most amazing guest host Idol’s ever had.
Or am I just completely hormonal?