Robin Gibb was staring at the hum of a jet engine. That’s how it began. Not with a grand orchestration or a poetic epiphany in a candlelit room, but with the monotonous, soul-crushing drone of a Vickers Viscount pilot idling on the tarmac. He heard a melody in the white noise. It was 1968. The Bee Gees were already stars, but they were young, friction-prone, and navigating the weird transition from British-Australian beat group to psychedelic pop icons.
Robin started humming. Then he started singing.
I Started a Joke wasn't just another track on the Idea album. It became a haunting, existential anthem that defined Robin’s career and, strangely enough, served as a final farewell decades later. Honestly, it’s a weird song. It’s a song about a man who realizes his own tragedy is the world’s comedy, and his death is the only thing that makes people stop laughing.
It’s dark. It’s beautiful. It’s pure Robin Gibb.
The Melodic Accident in the Sky
People often think the Bee Gees were just about disco and high-pitched harmonies. They forget the late sixties. This was the era of "New York Mining Disaster 1941." They were writing baroque, melancholy pop that felt like it belonged in a Victorian funeral parlor.
While flying from an unrecorded location to another, the engine noise provided a steady B-flat. Robin, leaning his head against the cold glass of the window, found a counter-melody. He later told the Mojo magazine that the song essentially wrote itself because of that specific frequency. When they landed, they didn't go to a hotel. They went to the studio.
Maurice Gibb played the iconic guitar lines. Barry added the backing. But it was Robin’s vibrato—that fragile, shivering voice—that made it a masterpiece. He sounded like he was about to break.
The lyrics are notoriously cryptic. "I started a joke which started the whole world crying / But I couldn't see that the joke was on me." It’s an inversion of the classic clown trope. Usually, the clown cries while the world laughs. Here, the protagonist’s joke causes universal sorrow, and his eventual death brings a "joy" he finally understands. Or maybe he doesn't. That’s the beauty of it. It’s open-ended.
Why the World Obsessed Over a Sad Song
It hit Number One in several countries, though curiously, it wasn't the lead single everywhere. In the U.S., it peaked at Number 6 on the Billboard Hot 100. But the chart position doesn't tell the whole story. The song became a cultural touchstone for the lonely.
📖 Related: Colin Macrae Below Deck: Why the Fan-Favorite Engineer Finally Walked Away
There’s a specific kind of 1960s melancholy that is hard to replicate. It’s not the angry protest of Dylan or the technicolor dream of the Beatles. It’s the "lonely room" vibe. The Bee Gees nailed this.
- The arrangement is surprisingly sparse for the time.
- The orchestral swell in the middle section creates a sense of vertigo.
- Robin’s vocal take was reportedly done in very few takes to keep the raw emotion intact.
If you listen closely to the original recording, there’s a lack of "polish" that modern AI-generated or heavily compressed music lacks. You can hear the breath. You can hear the stakes. They were kids, really. Robin was only 18 or 19 when he recorded those vocals. Think about that. An 18-year-old singing about the cosmic irony of death and the futility of human laughter.
The Joker and the Suicide Squad Connection
Fast forward nearly fifty years. The song gets a bizarre second life. In 2015, the trailer for the movie Suicide Squad dropped. It didn't feature Robin’s voice. Instead, it used a haunting, slowed-down cover by ConfidentialMX featuring Becky Hanson.
It worked.
Suddenly, Gen Z was searching for the origins of the "Joker song." The irony wasn't lost on long-time fans. A song written on a plane in 1968 was now the theme for a chaotic comic book villain. It fits, though. The Joker is the ultimate "joke that started the whole world crying."
But the cover versions started long before Hollywood got a hold of it. Faith No More did a legendary version. Mike Patton, known for his aggressive vocal range, treated the song with immense respect. He kept the kitsch but added a layer of genuine menace. Then there’s Richie Havens, who turned it into a soulful, earthy folk lament.
Every artist who covers I Started a Joke finds something different in it. Some see it as a song about social anxiety. Others see it as a religious allegory. Robin himself was always a bit coy about the "true" meaning. He preferred the song to exist as a feeling rather than a narrative.
The Tragic Final Act
Life has a cruel way of imitating art.
👉 See also: Cómo salvar a tu favorito: La verdad sobre la votación de La Casa de los Famosos Colombia
In May 2012, Robin Gibb passed away. He had been battling cancer and pneumonia. At his funeral in Thame, Oxfordshire, as the coffin was carried into the church, the speakers played I Started a Joke.
"I finally died, which started the whole world living."
The lyrics felt prophetic. The congregation sat in silence as Robin’s younger, shivering voice filled the space. It was the perfect, albeit heartbreaking, bookend to a career that spanned decades and defined genres. He had written his own epitaph forty-four years before he needed it.
The Bee Gees were often mocked during the "Disco Sucks" movement. They were caricatured for their hair, their teeth, and their medallions. But songs like this prove they were among the greatest songwriters of the 20th century. Barry Gibb often says that he and his brothers were just one person musically. When one left, the "joke" changed forever.
Analyzing the Structure: Why it Actually Works
Musicologists often point to the "drop" in the melody during the chorus. Most pop songs aim for an upward trajectory—a lift that makes the listener feel "high."
This song does the opposite.
When Robin hits the line "the joke was on me," the melody plunges. It’s a literal musical representation of a sinking feeling. It mimics the sensation of realization—that "oh no" moment when you realize you’ve made a massive mistake.
- The Intro: A simple acoustic strum that feels intimate.
- The Build: The strings enter not as a flourish, but as a weight.
- The Bridge: This is where the song peaks emotionally, with the "Oh, if I'd only seen..." line.
- The Resolution: It doesn't really resolve. It just ends. Much like the life of the protagonist in the lyrics.
The song is essentially a three-act play condensed into three minutes. Act one: the action (starting the joke). Act two: the consequence (the world crying/laughing). Act three: the revelation (death and the shift in perspective).
✨ Don't miss: Cliff Richard and The Young Ones: The Weirdest Bromance in TV History Explained
How to Appreciate the Legacy Today
If you want to truly understand the impact of the Bee Gees beyond the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, you have to go back to the Idea album. Put on a pair of decent headphones. Don't listen to a tinny YouTube rip. Find a high-fidelity version of the original 1968 mono or stereo mix.
Listen to the way the brothers' voices blend. It’s called "sisterhood singing" or "blood harmony." There is a frequency that only siblings can hit together. It’s a slight dissonance that creates a unique vibrato.
What to do next:
- Listen to the Faith No More version: Compare it to the original. Notice how Mike Patton highlights the song's inherent creepiness.
- Watch the 1997 'One Night Only' live performance: Seeing Robin sing this live in Las Vegas toward the end of their touring years is a masterclass in vocal control. You can see the emotion on his face; he never stopped feeling the song.
- Read the lyrics as poetry: Strip away the music. Read the words out loud. It reads like a Beckett play.
- Explore the 'Idea' album: Don't stop at the hit. Listen to "Kilburn Towers" or "Kitty Can." You'll see a band that was experimenting with sound in a way that was arguably more courageous than their later, more commercial work.
The "joke" wasn't really a joke at all. It was a meditation on the human condition. We all start things we can't finish. We all misunderstand our place in the world. And sometimes, we only realize the truth when it’s far too late to change the punchline.
Robin Gibb knew that. He heard it in a plane engine. And he made sure the whole world heard it too.
Actionable Insights for Music Fans
To get the most out of your Bee Gees journey, look for the 2006 remastered versions of their early albums. These releases contain mono mixes that often have more "punch" and represent what the brothers actually heard in the studio booth. If you're a musician, try playing the song in G Major but focus on the transition to the B-minor chord; that’s where the "sadness" is baked into the theory.
Finally, if you're ever feeling like the world is laughing at your expense, remember: Robin Gibb turned that exact feeling into a song that will outlive us all. Sometimes, the best way to handle the "joke" is to sing it.