A Bee Gees Memory

With the sad passing of Robin Gibb today, it got me thinking back to a metal night I used to attend on a Tuesday night in Doncaster.

No, really. Stick with me.

Before I was an ale drinking Ska-head, I was a lager drinking jump around to Marilyn, Rage and Nirvana etc-head. Tuesday nights at the long since departed club Karisma had something for everyone if you were into guitar music and circle pits.

Every week between 1999 and 2001 me and my friends would attend this club night, which had a musical timetable more reliable than most train services today. The first hour would be Metallica et al, leading into the American heaviness of Rage Against the Machine and Marilyn Manson. Things would then lighten up, with Limp Biskit, Green Day, Nirvana and Hole. This took us to midnight.

At which point, something strange happened.

The stroke of midnight always meant Night Fever. No metalhead worth his tats should be seen singing along to Disco. But the Bee Gees were above that. They were class. So as Wednesday began, Goths, Rockers and indie kids who had turned up cos the beer was cheap would unite, and dance.

Right arm point up, then down to your left, step forward, step back whilst winding a bobbin, spin, clap. 

Turn.

Repeat.

Some of the scariest looking chaps and chappesses you might ever meet, getting on down to Barry,  Maurice and Robin Gibb. You couldn't get away with it if it was Gloria Gaynor, or even Earth Wind & Fire. But these were the people who wrote 'Massachusetts' and 'Gotta Get a Message to You', and they had our respect.

So today I'll think of the crew of Karisma Tuesdays, and of Robin Gibb. RIP fella, and thank you.