I was eight years old, slapping my bare feet on the white tiles of a suburban Brisbane home to the disco beats of my dad's vinyls.

He was a body-shirt-wearing groover of the '70s, and each Sunday morning our Carindale living room became his own York Hotel.

The Bee Gees' Saturday Night Fever was on constant rotation.

The harmonies of the Brothers Gibb became as much as part of my formative years as they were part of my father's youth.

Just as our family memories were borne of the music, so too were the memories of three brothers from Redcliffe - a peninsula about an hour's drive north of that Carindale living room.

Barry Gibb, the eldest and only surviving brother, returned to Brisbane to share those memories on Saturday.

A montage of home movies makes it clear from the outset that the night is to be a family affair, as well as a tribute of sorts.

As such, the Brisbane Entertainment Centre is as intimate as it has ever been.

The show is emotional, affectionate and full of delightful surprises.

Brisbane's prodigal son is welcomed with rapturous applause, before he slings an aqua-coloured electric guitar over his shoulder and fills the auditorium with the crisp falsetto tones of Jive Talkin'.

Lonely Days follows and then comes You Should Be Dancing - and almost instantaneously my feet are once again slapping the floor.

He reaches those high notes with ease, although his falsetto is a touch more breathy.

Despite the absence of Maurice and Robin on stage, the family connection is still strong. Barry welcomes his niece on stage - Maurice’s daughter, Samantha.

"Sammy Gibb, everybody," he says.

She joins Barry for a duet of How Can You Mend a Broken Heart - her smokey tones complimenting the lyrics remarkably.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree does it?" Barry says.

But that's not the only member of the Gibb clan we meet.

"Please meet my son, Stephen," Barry says.

He gestures to his right, where a burly, heavily-inked, bearded guitarist stands.

Ripping through a stellar version of Maurice's On Time, Stephen's weathered vocals seem more suited to the UK's Electric Wizard.

"That's rock 'n' roll," Barry says.

"That's Stevie."

When the pair sing I've Gotta Get a Message to You it's powerful and moving.

The love song was Robin's conception. Walking into a recording studio he announced, "I've got a great idea for a song. It's about a man who's murdered someone who's on death row."

Stephen sings with such conviction one wonders if he's been there.

Spicks and Specks unites the crowd. We're all clapping in unison.

Words has the crowd singing along, taking over the final verse.

"OK, now it's my turn," Barry says.

But the crowd can't resist. Those lyrics, so simple, so true.

"Now it's really my turn," he says, with a chuckle.

Only one verse into I Started a Joke, we hear a familiar voice, and scan the stage for an extra figure. Barry steps away from the microphone, allowing Robin to take centre stage on a video screen. In the clip, Robin is singing to a large arena - Sydney Olympic Park. There's barely a dry eye in the house.

Barry's return to Brisbane has been in his own words "emotional and overwhelming". Redcliffe unveiled a statue in honour of its favourite sons only days earlier.

Barry recalls playing bare foot on the mud flats, among the boats stranded by the outgoing tide, and jumping off the pier, fishing for coins passersby had dropped into the sea.

"We were never as close as brothers as we were there," he says.

"Welcome home, Barry," yells one audience member, most likely another Redcliffe son.

Barry says Mo was a gadgets man. "He always had to have the latest gadget."

Robin was both incredibly funny and incredibly sad. "That's probably why he could write the music he wrote," Barry says.

Andy, the youngest Gibb brother, realised his dream of becoming a pop star, however fleeting his career was.

Barry then launches in Ordinary People.

The fame has taken its toll on the Gibb family, undoubtedly, but tonight they appear a family reconciled and united.

Two generations of the Gibb family farewell Brisbane with Immortality, and an encore of Stayin' Alive.

And I am with my father, dancing just like my eight-year-old self, and planning to play those old 45s for my children one day, hopefully.

Barry Gibb plays Brisbane Entertainment Centre again on Tuesday night.