Introduction:
How Deep Is Your Love: The Song, The Lawsuit, and the Question That Never Quite Faded
“Know your eyes in the morning sun…”
The world fell silent — then fell in love — the first time that line drifted across the airwaves in 1977.
By then, Barry Gibb and his brothers, Robin and Maurice, were at the peak of their powers. Their voices didn’t just top charts; they defined a generation. How Deep Is Your Love, Stayin’ Alive, and Night Fever weren’t merely songs — they were cultural moments, carved into the soundtrack of the late 1970s.
But beneath the glitter of Saturday Night Fever and the triumph of global fame, a quiet legal storm was brewing. A lawsuit would soon test the very nature of creativity — and challenge what it truly means to “own” a song.
The Man Who Heard His Own Song
In a quiet Chicago suburb lived Ronald H. Selle, a part-time musician and composer who had spent years chasing a dream that never arrived. He wrote his own songs, recorded demos, and mailed them to record companies — hoping, always hoping, that someone would listen.
Then one day, in 1977, he heard How Deep Is Your Love on the radio.
The chords.
The phrasing.
The melodic climb in the chorus.
To Selle, it wasn’t just similar — it was his song. A song he called Let It End, written two years earlier.
It was a moment of heartbreak and disbelief. And for Selle, it felt like the world was singing something that had been stolen from him.
David vs. Goliath
In 1980, Selle did what few would dare: he sued the Bee Gees.
His claim was simple yet devastating — that the brothers, or someone connected to them, must have heard his demo and copied it, consciously or not.
The trial became one of the most famous copyright cases in music history. When both songs were played back-to-back in the courtroom, even the jury heard the similarities. The melodies intertwined almost seamlessly.
Against all odds, Ronald Selle — an unknown musician — won.
The verdict sent shockwaves through the music industry. For a brief moment, the impossible had happened: one man had defeated the Bee Gees.
The Appeal That Changed Everything
But the law demands more than resemblance — it demands proof.
There was no evidence that the Bee Gees had ever received or heard Selle’s song. Without that, the ruling could not stand. On appeal, the decision was overturned. The Bee Gees were cleared — not because the melodies were entirely different, but because you cannot steal what you’ve never heard.
The case was closed.
The Ripple Effect
The lawsuit left a lasting mark on the industry:
Record labels stopped accepting unsolicited demos.
Songwriters began documenting every writing session.
Creativity became more cautious, more defensive.
Barry Gibb, once known for his effortless spontaneity, became more guarded. He later reflected, quietly:
“When a song connects with people, everyone feels like it’s theirs. Maybe that’s what makes it beautiful — and dangerous.”
Who Truly Owns a Melody?
Decades later, How Deep Is Your Love remains untouchable — a soft, shimmering testament to love and longing. It plays at weddings, in films, and in quiet moments between lovers who don’t even know the story behind it.
Selle’s song, Let It End, faded into obscurity.
But his question — Who owns a song? — never quite disappeared.
Because no melody is born in a vacuum. Every note echoes something older, something familiar, something shared. Music is memory, repetition, reinvention.
So maybe the lawsuit was never really about Barry Gibb or Ronald Selle.
Maybe it was about us — about how music finds us, and why it feels so personal when it does.
In the end, perhaps the truth is simpler than the law could ever define:
A song belongs not to the one who wrote it, nor the one who sings it —
but to everyone who needs it.