Whoever called the Bee Gees' hit songs a "guilty pleasure" had an overdeveloped conscience. At its commercial and artistic peak in the late '70s, the Australian trio released singles that were sheer pop genius, full of gorgeous hooks and buoyant, shimmering arrangements that only a tone-deaf curmudgeon could resist. But like the skin-tight polyester suits they once flaunted, the Brothers Gibb seem to have lost some cling and zing through the years. Their latest album is a decidedly stodgy, middle-of-the-road affair, with a deficit of strong melodies and a surplus of the sort of tepid, synth-numbed production that gives adult-contemporary music a bad name.
