Charts: AUS #13, CAN #7, GER #4, NED #9, UK #10, US #20.
Less than two years after leaving Australia and scoring their first Anglo-American hit, "New York Mining Disaster 1941", the Bee Gees had matured to the point where they they had the confidence to write neo-classical instrumentals with titles like "Seven Seas Symphony" and "With All Nations (International Anthem)". In 1969, while others were paring back and amping up, the Gibb brothers were building a wall of sound that owed more to Edward Elgar than Phil Spector, let alone Muddy Waters.
Odessa was the sprawling result, a 2xLP in a luxuriant red velour sleeve-- there was no doubt this was an Important Statement from a group considered, up to this point, to be purveyors of sweet, harmless orch-pop. Barry Gibb was a pin-up and, as far as the serious press was concerned that slotted these guys alongside the Monkees. It meant little that "I've Gotta Get a Message to You" (a UK No.1 from the previous year) was about a convicted killer's dying request, or that their first three albums had featured thrilling psychedelic pop that trumped since-fetishized British acts like July or Blossom Toes.
The only hit single on Odessa was "First of May", a ballad that goes for world-weary significance ("Don't ask me why, but time has passed us by/ Someone else moved in from far away") without making much sense-- this is a recurring Bee Gees lyrical trait, and an endearing one. "First" also boasted a melancholy music box arrangement and one of Barry Gibb's more sonorous croons. It is extremely pretty. It also caused a rupture in the group that would lead them to split up for the better part of two years. When Barry's "First of May" consigned Robin's "Lamplight" to the B-side, the festering jealousy between the brothers was made very public. Robin quit, made one odd solo album (Robin's Reign), and an even odder unreleased one (Sing Slowly Sisters) before the three were reconciled at the end of 1970.
"Lamplight" doesn't sound like a hit, truthfully. No matter. From its heavily thrummed acoustic intro and unintelligible echo-ridden opening verse to the massed harps and a storyline that alludes to lost love and candlelit Victoriana, it seems Robin is unsure of what he wants to say, yet knows exactly how to say it: loudly and tearfully. You get the feeling he wished he'd been born 50 years earlier. Both songs are ambitious, then, but you can understand the younger brother's pique.
Full version: (pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/12655-odessa/) Review by Bob Stanley. February 11, 2009