He was the fat dancer from Take That. At least, that’s what Noel Gallagher called him back when the Britpop wars were at their peak and Robbie Williams was trying to find his feet as a solo artist. It’s kinda hilarious looking back, isn't it? That "fat dancer" went on to sell over 75 million records and snagged more BRIT Awards than any other artist in history.
Music by Robbie Williams isn't just a collection of pop songs. It's basically a messy, loud, emotional diary of a man who spent his entire adult life being analyzed by the British tabloids. Honestly, if you grew up in the late 90s or early 2000s, his voice was the soundtrack to every wedding, every breakup, and every drunken karaoke session you ever attended.
The Post-Boyband Gamble that Changed Everything
When Robbie left Take That in 1995, nobody actually thought he’d win. Gary Barlow was the songwriter. Robbie was the cheek, the trouble, the one who looked like he’d rather be at Glastonbury with the Gallagher brothers than doing synchronized choreography in leather waistcoats.
His early solo efforts were... well, they were rocky. "Old Before I Die" was fine, but it felt like he was trying too hard to be a rock star. It wasn't until he paired up with Guy Chambers that the magic happened. Chambers was the musical architect; Robbie was the lyrical soul and the face of the brand. Together, they crafted a sound that was grand, cinematic, and deeply British.
Then came "Angels."
It’s easy to forget that "Angels" wasn't an instant number-one hit. It peaked at number four. But it stayed in the charts forever. It became a secular hymn. If you look at the structure of that song, it’s a masterclass in tension and release. It saved his career. Without that one track, we probably wouldn't be talking about music by Robbie Williams today; he would have been a "where are they now" segment on a 2000s nostalgia show.
Why 'Life Thru a Lens' and 'I've Been Expecting You' Still Hold Up
Most pop albums from 1997 sound incredibly dated now. The production is thin, or the synths feel like cheap plastic. But Life Thru a Lens and I've Been Expecting You have this lush, orchestral quality that keeps them feeling expensive.
Take "Millennium," for example. Sampling the James Bond theme (You Only Live Twice) was a stroke of genius. It captured the pre-millennial tension and the cool-Britannia swagger perfectly. Robbie wasn't just singing pop; he was playing a character. He was the cheeky chappy who had made it to the big leagues but still felt like an imposter.
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That imposter syndrome is actually the secret sauce in music by Robbie Williams.
In songs like "Strong" or "No Regrets," he’s surprisingly vulnerable. "No Regrets" is particularly brutal. It’s a thinly veiled swipe at his former bandmates, and it doesn't try to be nice about it. It’s raw. That’s why people connected. He wasn't a polished product like the boy bands that followed him. He was a bit of a wreck, and he was happy to tell you about it.
The Guy Chambers Split and the Experimental Years
Every great partnership ends, and the Robbie/Guy split was the stuff of industry legend. Robbie wanted more control; he wanted to explore different sounds. Enter Escapology.
"Feel" is arguably one of the best pop songs of the 21st century. That opening piano line? Chills. It showed a maturity that "Rock DJ" (with its infamous skin-stripping music video) didn't have. But after Escapology, things got weird.
Rudebox happened.
Critics absolutely mauled it. People hated the title track. They thought he’d lost his mind. But if you listen to Rudebox today, it’s actually kind of ahead of its time. He was messing with electro-pop and 80s synth-wave long before it became the standard for artists like The Weeknd. It was a brave record. It was an artist trying to escape the "Angels" shadow, even if it meant alienating half his fan base.
The Knebworth Peak: Can Anyone Else Do This?
In 2003, Robbie played to 375,000 people over three nights at Knebworth.
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Think about that number.
That’s more than the population of many cities. If you watch the DVD of those shows, you see a performer at the absolute height of his powers. He owned that stage. He had this ability to make a massive field feel like a small club. He’d pick out one person in the front row and talk to them like they were the only person there.
That’s the essence of music by Robbie Williams—the performance. The songs are the foundation, but the delivery is the house. He’s a vaudevillian who happened to end up in a pop star’s body. He’s Frank Sinatra if Sinatra had been raised on Oasis and MDMA.
The Swing Era: A Surprising Pivot
Just when people thought they had him figured out, he released Swing When You're Winning.
It was a covers album. Pure ego trip, right? Everyone thought it would be a disaster. Instead, it became one of the best-selling albums in UK history. He recorded it in the legendary Capitol Studios in Los Angeles. He sang with a hologram of Frank Sinatra.
What this era proved was that Robbie had the vocal chops to back up the bravado. You can’t hide behind production when you’re singing "Mack the Knife" with a big band. You either have the swing or you don't. He had it. He leaned into the "entertainer" label that so many modern pop stars try to avoid. He didn't want to be cool; he wanted to be legendary.
Wrestling with the Lyrics: The Art of Being Robbie
Robbie’s lyrics are often self-deprecating. He talks about his "inner child," his battles with weight, his drug use, and his massive, crushing anxiety.
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- "Feel": "I don't want to die, but I ain't keen on living either."
- "Strong": "And I'm not feeling that strong lately / But you know me, I'm just faking."
- "Come Undone": "I am scum and I'm your son."
This isn't typical "baby I love you" pop fodder. It’s dark. It’s some of the most honest songwriting in the mainstream. Music by Robbie Williams works because it acknowledges the "shambles" (his words) of being human. He’s a millionaire living in a mansion in LA, but he still sounds like he’s worried everyone is laughing at him behind his back.
The Modern Era and the Netflix Renaissance
The 2023 Netflix documentary series Robbie Williams changed the conversation again. It was a brutal watch. Seeing him watch footage of his younger self, cringing and looking physically pained by the memories, reminded everyone of the cost of that 90s fame.
It also reignited interest in his deeper catalog. People started going back to tracks like "Advertising Space," a beautiful tribute to Elvis Presley, or "Morning Sun."
He’s currently in a place where he’s more of a "heritage act," but that’s not a bad thing. He still sells out stadiums. His XXV album, which featured re-recorded versions of his hits with an orchestra, proved that these songs have legs. They aren't just temporal hits; they are part of the cultural fabric.
How to Actually Appreciate the Music by Robbie Williams Today
If you’re a newcomer or someone who only knows "Rock DJ," you’re missing the best parts. You have to look at the b-sides and the deep cuts to see the range.
Start with The Ego Has Landed. It was the US introduction, and it’s a "best of" the early years. It moves from the high-octane energy of "Lazy Days" to the haunting "Angels" without missing a beat.
Then, check out "A Place to Crash" or "Tripping." These tracks show his ability to blend genres—reggae, rock, and soul—into something that still feels like a Robbie Williams song.
Finally, listen to "Love My Life." It’s his modern anthem. It’s a song written for his kids, but it’s also a song he clearly wrote to convince himself that he’s okay. It’s the full circle of his career. From the insecure kid in Take That to the father trying to break the cycle of trauma.
Actionable Steps for the Robbie Williams Super-Fan (or Newbie)
- Watch the 2003 Knebworth Live Concert: If you want to understand why he’s a legend, this is the only evidence you need. It’s the peak of the British solo male pop star era.
- Listen to 'Escapology' in Full: Don't just skip to "Feel." Listen to the whole thing. It’s arguably his most cohesive body of work and captures a very specific moment in the early 2000s.
- Explore the Guy Chambers Collaborative Years: Compare them to the albums where he worked with other producers like Stephen Duffy (Intensive Care). The difference in the melodic structure is a fascinating study in how a producer shapes an artist.
- Check Out 'Under the Radar': These are albums Robbie released specifically for his fans, containing demos and tracks that didn't make the main albums. It’s where you’ll find the real "artistic" risks that the labels were too scared to put on the radio.
- Read 'Feel' by Chris Heath: If you want the context behind the music by Robbie Williams, this biography is essential. It’s one of the most intimate, fly-on-the-wall books ever written about a celebrity, covering the heights of his early solo fame.
Music by Robbie Williams is a journey through the British psyche—obsessed with fame, terrified of failure, and always looking for a good chorus to scream along to at the pub. He’s the ultimate underdog who stayed at the top for thirty years. Not bad for a fat dancer from Stoke.