#56 Otis Redding- The Dock of the Bay

A hasty goodbye to a soul legend before his time…

(Stax)

Released: February 23^rd 1968

Producer: Steve Cropper

Topped the chart:

16^th June 1968 (for 1 week)

1 week total

One of the ways to achieve immortality in art is to be first. Harry Belafonte is forever in the record books for being the first to sell over a million copies of an album. Mary Johnson might not be a household name, but, she’s the first person to release a single on Tamla Motown. You need to look it up, but she’s there. There are more famous firsts of course: first video on MTV, 4-minute mile, man on the moon…

Otis Redding’s record firsts are less appealing. Released just a month from his tragic December 1967 plane crash, (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay holds the dubious honour of being the first posthumous number one on the Billboard Singles Chart, while the accompanying album was the first album to top the UK singles chart after the death of its main artist.

Like Buddy Holly before him, Redding’s death begot the idea that an artist can be more successful in death than in life. That’s not to say that Redding hadn’t already achieved some greatness at least—already recognised as one of the great soul voices for one; genius featured on great records like Otis Blue and The Soul Album. Thanks to his work with producer Steve Cropper and house band Booker T and the MGs, Otis Redding had come to epitomise the “sound” of Stax records: bright, tight horns to an R&B dance beat bringing together elements of gospel, funk and blues. Everything was recorded crisp and clear, and their songs had enough back end in their bass to attract the interest of The Beatles and The Stones, the former even planning to record there in 1966. It didn’t happen, and instead The Beatles made Revolver.

They did okay, then.

By the time of his death, Otis Redding had some hits: Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag, Try A Little Tenderness, Knock on Wood, I’ve Been Loving You and The Happy Song all hit the top 30 and his success was about the only thing keeping Stax alive by that stage. But everything pales in comparison to (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.

Thematically, it was the perfect song to be released when it was: maybe it’s only meant to be about a man sitting on a dock of a bay, but it feels like so much more: it’s the sound of a man staring into the abyss before the end, happy with his lot and happy to wait in his purgatory for as long as it takes. That’s not to mention the sad irony of the sound of waves washing over the song throughout. It was an enormous global smash, and Redding wouldn’t see it.

The circumstances around Redding’s passing are a factor in the song’s success, but one hopes that such a perfect piece of music would have been a hit, even if that plane had landed where it was meant to on the tarmac. It is just so wonderfully laid back and showcases a different side of Redding that he handles every bit as magnificently as his screams and yelps on Tenderness. The image his voice creates is of a man laying back in his camping chair, hat pulled over his eyes before he drifts off with that whistling to bring the song to a close. It’s as perfect a two-minutes-and-forty-seconds as you’ll ever find, Cropper’s guitar lapping at the shore as those Stax horns sail in on a fresh Frisco breeze.

Inevitably, the rest of the album is a bit of a mixed bag. Thankfully we’re not at the stage of spinning tiny scraps of music or conversations into slightly icky songs like Tupac Shakur and Michael Jackson’s posthumous efforts; instead, it recycles old album tracks, B-sides and singles. There’s nothing new here, but at least it doesn’t leave a gross feeling in the pit of the stomach. However, it does mean that the record feels disjointed, put together by Steve Cropper in what sounds like a grief-stricken rush. Three of the best songs have been ported over from other albums in order to swell the tracklisting. Tramp (an admittedly irresistible duet with Carla Thomas), Nobody Knows You and Ole Man Trouble are taken from 1967’s King & Queen, 1966’s The Soul Album and 1965’s Otis Blue respectively.

But while it lacks the invention and cohesion of Redding’s best work, there’s no doubt that there are some real gems here. Don’t Mess with Cupid is fully realised thanks to a catchy refrain and a powerful dance beat, while Redding’s version of The Huckle-Buck helps to lift the energy before the album slides into a more sombre close. The album as a whole benefits from starting side B with the slower, more thoughtful The Glory of Love, featuring a real intimacy from Redding and Issac Hayes playing a quite beautiful piano line.

Cropper has applied the full force of the Stax production method throughout—horns have never sounded crisper, the guitars really cook- but many of these songs just don’t have strong foundations.  Let Me Come On Home features a particularly powerful brass line, but it’s a song that quickly devolves into Redding shouting short sentences and wordless exhaltation over the top- it’s debatable if it can even be considered a song. Open the Door, meanwhile, never really achieves lift-off with a leaden arrangement, feeling like a songwriting demo with a full band plastered over the top.

With its lack of invention and newness on what was advertised as Redding’s final studio album, it is understandable if fans at the time of its release would have felt a little ripped off, as both Redding’s friends and label rushed to mark his death. Nearly 60 years later, Dock of the Bay has earned a little more perspective. As a talisman of Otis Redding’s supreme talent as a singer, there are worse places to start.

Score: 7/10

Tracklisting:

SIDE A

1.      (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay

2.      I Love You More Than Words Can Say

3.      Let Me Come on Home

4.      Open the Door

5.      Don’t Mess with Cupid

SIDE B

6.      The Glory of Love

7.      I’m Coming Home to See About You

8.      Tramp

9.      The Huckle-Buck

10.  Nobody Knows You (When You’re Down and Out)

11.  Ole Man Trouble