When Barry Gibb wrote “To Love Somebody” in 1967, he wasn’t trying to make a hit — he was writing from a place of deep admiration, and deeper emotion. The story goes that Barry originally wrote it for Otis Redding, hoping the great soul singer would record it. But fate intervened: Redding died in a plane crash before he ever got the chance. And so the song, intended as a tribute to soul, became something even more universal — a hymn for love itself, in all its aching beauty and impossible longing.
The song opens with a simple guitar line and the quiet pulse of strings. Then Barry’s voice enters — rich, yearning, unguarded. “There’s a light, a certain kind of light, that never shone on me…” It’s one of those rare openings that immediately places you in a feeling, not a story. You don’t need to know who he’s singing to. You already feel it — the distance, the ache, the tenderness that can’t quite find its way home.
Unlike the soaring disco anthems that would later define the Bee Gees, “To Love Somebody” belongs to the heart’s stillness. It’s a slow burn — half soul, half prayer. Barry’s delivery doesn’t shout; it pleads. He’s not performing love, he’s surviving it. The line “You don’t know what it’s like…” becomes a confession that grows more powerful each time it repeats — not self-pity, but recognition. Love, in his voice, is both a gift and a wound.
Musically, the song bridges two worlds. You can hear the influence of the American South — the gospel phrasing, the tenderness of rhythm and blues — but also the Bee Gees’ unmistakable melodic sensitivity. The strings swell gently behind Barry, never overpowering him, while Robin and Maurice’s harmonies hover like ghosts of empathy. Together, they create a sound that feels timeless, almost suspended between heaven and heartbreak.
What makes “To Love Somebody” so enduring is its universality. It doesn’t belong to any one genre, era, or experience. Everyone who’s ever loved — deeply, selflessly, hopelessly — can find themselves somewhere in those words. That’s why the song has been covered hundreds of times by artists as different as Janis Joplin, Michael Bolton, Nina Simone, Rod Stewart, and even The Flying Burrito Brothers. Each found their own truth inside it — because Barry’s original left enough space for everyone’s pain, everyone’s devotion.
For Barry himself, the song became a kind of lifelong companion. When he performs it now, older and alone on stage, it carries a new weight. It’s no longer just about romantic love — it’s about memory, loss, and the endurance of feeling. Each repetition of “You don’t know what it’s like…” sounds like an echo of every brother, every fan, every loved one he’s ever had to say goodbye to.
More than fifty years later, “To Love Somebody” remains one of the purest distillations of what the Bee Gees — and Barry Gibb in particular — have always stood for: emotional honesty. The courage to be vulnerable. The grace to let love hurt and still call it beautiful.
Because to Barry, love has never been about possession or perfection. It’s about presence — the kind of devotion that asks for nothing, but gives everything.
And that’s why “To Love Somebody” still feels eternal. It isn’t just a song about love.
It’s love itself — trembling, patient, and forever alive in Barry’s voice.