OTIS REDDING

Otis Redding is, of course, a soul legend. One of the greatest and most important artists in the whole genre of soul music. But, on a superficial level, one wonders why. He was a good songwriter and charismatic vocalist but, in both respects, he still stood in the majestic shadow cast by the genius of Sam Cooke. He was a massively influential artist but, still, he was never as innovative as James Brown in his hey-day (which was about the same time). Instead, Otis Redding offered something else. He was a performer. Not just any old performer but, probably, the single greatest performer in the history of music. Almost without exception, you give Otis a song to sing and he will not just make it his own, he will make it better. It is pretty much an indefinable quality but there is something about Otis's enthusiasm, energy, intensity combined and contrasted with his emotional sensitivity and unique subtlety that makes his end product so much more than what appears to be the sum of his parts. He was a good vocalist, of course, but he was hardly as technically flawless as Sam Cooke or Marvin Gaye. It is easier to compare him to James Brown's gruff intensity but, even so, Otis offers something even more. For a black soul artist in the mid-sixties when race and genre was still highly segregated Otis was something special. He was rock'n'roll. When the Rolling Stones are ripping you off you know you're something special and at the time of his death Otis was seemingly set inexorably to abolish the boundaries of genre and achieve, along with Jimi Hendrix, cross-racial appeal. However, even more so than Hendrix, Redding's death was a true musical tragedy. Hendrix had already achieved two artistic milestones and, whilst he was far from finished, such accomplishments were not necessarily going to be repeated. Otis Redding, upon his death, was just beginning to achieve his full potential as a songwriter and artist. The posthumously released "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" is widely recognised as his greatest achievement and when one stops to consider what the maturing Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder went on to achieve through their own independence in the early seventies Otis's potential becomes ever larger and, as a result, his death ever more tragic. Otis was a brilliant artist in the mid-sixties. To think what he might have achieved in the late-sixties/early-seventies in his full artistic maturity is nothing short of depressing. Along with Jeff Buckley, Otis Redding is that greatest of rock'n'roll tragedies - the great artist who died when he still had so, so much more to give.

Otis Redding was a star, of that there is no doubt, but it would be unfair and near-negligent to not point out that a large factor in him becoming a star was the talent of his backing band. As a Stax employee Otis was supplied with the label's band for recording purposes. In this case, the backing band turned out to be none other than Booker T and the MGs - a band widely regarded as being one of the best in the business. The tightness of the core rhythm section of guitarist Steve Cropper, organist Booker T, bassist Donald "Duck" Dunn and drummer Al Jackson was sublimely and uniquely fused with the lilting looseness of the Memphis Horns (based around trumpeter Wayne Jackson and saxophonist Andrew Love) to produce one of the most incredible backing bands in the business. Of course Otis was a great performer but he still would not have got out of the Georgia woods if it weren't for the brilliance of his backing band - driving the songs on with a power equal to their frontman. When one marvels at the number of covers Otis made his own ("A Change is Gonna Come", "Satisfaction", "Pain in My Heart", "Try a Little Tenderness" and so on) more often than not it is as much the contribution of Booker T and the MG's and the Memphis Horns that grant the performances their power. The very pinnacle of tight-but-loose dynamics supplied by the band perfectly complimented the slick sweat of Otis's showmanship. Thankfully, the contribution of the Stax band is rarely overlooked but it is clear that Otis Redding owes much of his brief success to a little help from his friends.

One final point to address essentially concerns why I am granting Otis Redding an entire page of reviews. It is apparently common knowledge that soul music only really became album-based after Marvin Gaye's masterpiece What's Going On and all soul artists were good for before that were singles compilations. A listen to any Otis Redding album easily dispels such a myth. True, Otis' albums never had a conceptual unity that later soul classics did but, in that respect, his death becomes even more tragic as, at the time, he was apparently inspired by Sgt. Pepper to deliver a concept album of his own, at the peak of his powers. That the unreliability of light aircraft put paid to such a creation is nothing but a terrible disappointment. Still, Otis Redding and his backing band did not entertain the idea of filler. More so than the Stones' contemporaneous releases, for instance, all of Otis's albums were remarkably consistent. Unfortunately, a lack of artistic progression to match his rock'n'roll peers meant he never reached the heights of the Beatles, Dylan, Kinks, and so on during his life-time but, as I've said, it seemed likely that he was just about to when he plunged to his icy tomb. In truth, a Greatest Hits and a live album probably would grant a sufficient overview of his career but a listen to any of his official albums is far from a disappointment. Conceptually, he might not have been an album-orientated artist but, quality-wise, he certainly was.

From: Rick B

I enjoyed your Otis reviews and as one of his biggest fans I am in complete aggrement with you concerning his talent and gifts as an artist.
Much like Otis, your writing has a uniqueness of style, depth, appeal and feel.
I must have read hundreds of reviews on Otis over the years but few have been able to do him justice as I believe you have !

The mid-sixties was, naturellement, a rampant breeding-ground for musical change and innovation. The British Invasion was gathering momentum through the Beatles, Kinks, Stones and company and American rock music as we know it now was emerging from its prehistoric swamp with the lyrical literacy of Bob Dylan set to change how pop music was to be perceived forever. Black American soul music invariably gets less of a write-up but, it is safe to say, similar developments were being made. Sam Cooke was at the peak of his powers, James Brown about to get there, and the Motown label promoting the pioneers of tomorrow in the form of Marvin Gaye and wee Stevie Wonder. Memphis label Stax were also on the brink of getting in on the action when a confident young soul singer first registered on their books after sneakily recording a rendition of his self-penned "These Arms of Mine" whilst in the studio on session duties. Otis Redding was signed up, and the rest, as one just loves to say, is history. However, the fact that the aching ballad "These Arms of Mine" is not one of the most impressive tracks on this album tells another story in itself. Although, as I implied in the introduction, this debut is almost certainly not one of the most innovative of the year it IS certainly one of the most influential. The fact that the Stones albums up until they ditched the covers with 1966's Aftermath are peppered with Otis Redding covers just shows how many copies of this album and its successors Mick and Keith must have worn through. The quality of this album also reinforces my point that Otis was so remarkably consistent as an album-based artist. Although obvious progression had been made as a songwriter and the Stax band had developed into the finest backing band of their era (or any other) 1966's Dictionary of Soul is not markedly superior. Of course, some might interpret that as evidence of a lack of artistic progression (and they'd have something of a case) but I prefer to think of it as proof that Otis's debut is a record worth equal respect. Rather surprisingly, this is one of the few records in existence where you can chart the artist's progress even over the course of the individual songs. Although released in 1964 the songs are actually spread out over two years worth of recording sessions, with his 7" debut "These Arms of Mine" dating from as far back as 1962. For that reason, despite its reputation and success at the time, it is actually inferior to two other of Otis's self-penned numbers. "Something is Worrying Me" has an intoxicating sway, whilst "Security" is simply one of his best ever songs, showcasing his melodicism, rhythm, vocal power and emotional vulnerability. Unsurprisingly two thirds of the album is made up of covers but, in most cases, one hardly notices. Booker T and the MGs are still a little wet-behind-the-ears, perhaps, but they give it their all and at least succeed in making the immortal soul classic "Stand By Me" actually force you to momentarily forget the unforgettable original. In addition, of course, the album's opening title track is another of Otis's Greatest Hits and yet another cover that he effortlessly made his own. Proving his worth alongside the Rolling Stones, Otis also belts out plenty of high-tempo r'n'b and proto-rock'n'roll numbers including Rufus Thomas's "Do the Dog", Little Richard's "Lucille", and, most surprisingly, the indomitable "Louie Louie", thereby instantly establishing his crossover appeal. Indeed, I'd wager there were few albums the Stones listened to more in the run-up to recording their own debut than this one. Its influence, and Otis's in general, on the British anti-pop r'n'b groups is almost incalculable and certainly places himself alongside one of his own heroes - James Brown. His other, Sam Cooke, gets the obligatory cover on here but his version of "You Send Me" fails to live up to expectations, mainly down to the fact he tries too hard to emulate Cooke's smoothness when, as he discovered, it was when he converted Cooke's classics into his contrasting gruff intensity that the rewards arrived. As such, there are obvious signs of naivety that mark this out as obviously Otis's debut but the sheer vitality that he injects into everything he performs more than makes up for it. He would progress as an artist (as would Booker T and the MGs) but, even so, for most of this album it barely seems like it matters. One of the most influential 30 minutes of music around.

After the success of his debut Otis took a slight step back by pandering more to the transitory pop market with his second LP - possibly the most descriptive (and arrogant) title in music history. It would be tempting to quote the unsettlingly aggressive man on the varnish adverts and say "it does exactly what it says on the tin" but, thankfully, Otis was perceptive enough to realise that he had to throw some variety into the mix. Therefore, tucked away on the album are four up-tempo numbers (three of which are self-penned) that quicken the pace momentarily. Where Pain in My Heart was one of his most diverse albums, though, this album succeeds only in being his blandest. Each song taken individually seems satisfactory enough (I honestly do not think I could name a bad song he performed) but, taken together, the mid-tempo mood suffocates the individual merits and the album tends to drift away from the listener's attention. It is certainly the only album of his that I own that still has songs on it that I simply cannot identify by the title alone. Obviously, based on the initial success of "These Arms of Mine", the record company foresaw Otis as appealing to the pop fans as a gentle balladeer but, thankfully, he actually went on to make his name as a far more powerful and diverse artist. In retrospect, one listen to In Person at the Whiskey A Go Go is enough to tell even the dimmest of marketing men where Otis's strengths really lay. Of course, he IS good with ballads, providing the material is strong enough, and the majority of these tracks still hit home. The classic "That's How Strong My Love Is" (later covered by, you guessed it... the Rolling Stones) kicks things off with a bang which the album momentarily manages to maintain. The following (self-penned) "Chained and Bound" also deservedly made its way into his cannon of Greatest Hits and the laid-back jazz of "A Woman, a Lover, a Friend" and the up-tempo "Your One and Only Man" manage to continue such form, more or less. Only towards the end of the first side does the album start to drag and attention start to wander and, thankfully, side two kicks off with the brilliant, smouldering "For Your Precious Love", followed by the irrepressible jauntiness of "I Want to Thank You" (although teaching a young girl how to smoke a cigarette seems rather less romantic these days). And, finally, by way of apology - after the second side slips back into blandness - Otis brings the audience back to attention and then the house down with the storming "Mr. Pitiful", yet ANOTHER classic, yet again self-penned. Indeed, if this album shows one thing (other than his need to diversify) it is the fact that Otis grew as a songwriter very quickly. Most of the best songs on here by a distance are the self-penned numbers (it is sixty-forty in favour of covers overall, which still shows progress from the debut) as it must have become pretty clear at the time that Otis was a man destined for greatness. Obviously he was not allowed to realise everything that he was capable of but he still left behind a substantial legacy. Furthermore, with this album just a mere blip (and still a pretty impressive one at that) his career was really about to take off. Over the next three albums, his prowess as a songwriter, performer and artist was almost perfectly realised.

I have said it before on this page, probably more than once, but Otis's albums do not show a huge progression from one to the next (although there is certainly minor change along the way). Therefore, his best albums are simply those with the best selection of songs on them. It would therefore be a little erroneous to say he reached his peak with his third album but there is little dispute that it is his best. Put simply, it has at least greater consistency than the two that follow it, even if the level of his songwriting and performance (and that of Booker T and the MGs) is pretty much at a constant from this point on. It would be adventurous to suggest there is great evidence of stylistic progression but, all the same, there is no doubt that the level of confidence displayed by Otis and his band on this album far exceeds the showmanship exhibited on his previous two. In short, almost every song on this album has come to be regarded as a Greatest Hit to some extent and even the odd one that has not, such as the growling rendition of the blues standard "Rock Me Baby", still shows Otis willing to expand his palette and, in the latter's case, showcases some excellent sleazy lead guitar from Steve Cropper. Unlike the last album, the flow of this set is exceptional, with every song sufficiently different from the last to ensure the listener is compelled from start to finish. From the up-tempo swing of "Down in the Valley" and "Shake", to the pulsating aggression of "Respect" and "Satisfaction", to the smouldering intensity of "A Change Is Gonna Come" and "I've Been Loving You Too Long", the album is an exceptional showcase of just how far soul music had expanded into an all-encompassing genre and, of course, just how brilliant Otis was as a performer. Although I cannot confess to be a real expert on the genre I would be surprised if there was a greater soul album available before this one was released and it was presumably instrumental in pushing home the fact that the album-as-an-artwork can be just as important in soul as it was in rock'n'roll. Furthermore, in that regard, this album also exhibits the extent to which Otis was blurring boundaries with his famous appropriation of the Rolling Stones' classic "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction", after years of one-way traffic in the other direction. The abbreviated structure clearly shows Otis's indifference towards the lyrical aspects of songs (although he had obviously seen the light by the time of his self-introspective masterpiece "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay") but the power and intensity invested by Otis through his trademark huffing and puffing makes his version arguably as powerful as the original, albeit in a different way. Similarly, his cover of Sam Cooke's legendary "A Change Is Gonna Come" succeeds in producing a version that is equally as great, but for completely different reasons. The lyrics move away from black rights and towards a more personal tale of suffering, and the heart-wrenching strings of the original are replaced by the almighty power of Booker T and the Memphis Horns. The latter's brass blasts seem like condemnation from God himself, whilst the cascading drums invest the song with such a power that even Otis himself struggles to match. This album represents the zenith of Redding's Cooke idolatry with three classic covers - as well as "A Change Is Gonna Come" and "Shake" Otis also manages to make the naive pop perfection of "Wonderful World" better than his master's original. In terms of self-penned classics, the album kicks off with two of his best in the form of the tortured blues of "Ole Man Trouble" and, put simply, one of the most famous soul songs in history - "Respect". Before Aretha Franklin turned it into her signature feminist rant it is interesting to note it began life as a bullish plea from Otis to his wayward lover. Indeed, it is appropriate that such a soul classic should have been born on this album as one could argue this one release marked a massive step forward for soul music as a whole. Later on, it might have been marginally surpassed by the slick seventies masterpieces but when it came out it must have been an explosion of raw soul power and a release so diverse that artists in every popular genre had to sit up and take notice.

Given that with Otis Blue Redding was bringing the genre of soul to an even wider audience Stax saw fit to make sure the record buyers were in no doubt what sort of music Otis sang with the title of his fourth album. If soul music was still lagging behind in some respects it was probably most noticeably the record companies' inability to come up with any sort of creative title for their albums. Still, this "what you see is what you get" mentality fitted Otis perfectly, who was never in the least bit pretentious or pompous in his ambitions. He was purely a soul performer, albeit the best in the business. Similarly, the unimaginative title mirrors the admittedly unimaginative content of this album. Indicative of the negative reserve which was still shackling the genre, Otis was not allowed to branch out as his rock'n'roll peers were and, as a result, the follow-up to Otis Blue: Otis Redding Sings Soul might as well be called Otis Redding Sings More Soul. Mix up the five albums and ask someone unfamiliar with his career to arrange them in chronological order and I'd wager it would not come close to being accurate (or, at least, only by coincidence). Still, Otis was ALWAYS a great performer and, as always, his choice of songs on here excellently showcases both his ability and that of his legendary backing band. Perhaps the only real observation to make is that he obviously struggled to write so many self-penned numbers for this release. The opening "Just One More Day", which builds to a powerful climax, suggests his muse is still untainted but only two more self-penned numbers follow, the dreary "Good to Me" and the jaunty "Any Ole Way", and neither really match the highlights that flowed from his own pen elsewhere. Thankfully, though, the choice of covers more than makes up for such inadequacy of self-sufficiency and, again, the set flows well from reflective ballad to infectious pop to relentless rhythm 'n' blues. "It's Growing" offers up a bouncing melody that refuses to desist, whilst the well-known covers of "Cigarettes and Coffee" and the blues classic "Nobody Knows You (When You're Down and Out)" (famously covered by Eric Clapton under Derek and the Dominos) again show Otis dealing with sensitive ballads with more than sufficient sensibility. The latter, in particular, with its tale of transitory wealth, is a perfect vehicle for Otis to play the down-on-his-luck loner with natural empathy. On the other hand, he takes Sam Cooke's equally destitute "Chain Gang" and, substituting the groans for horns, turns it into a gloriously breathless romp, making penal servitude seem more like a party than a punishment. And, as highlight on the album, the underrated "Scratch My Back" brings Otis closest to his live persona as a ridiculously funky workout, proving he was not so much mixing it with James Brown as showing him how to do it. Unfortunately, after the aforementioned number, the album dives into less impressive material and the consistency inevitably suffers. As it stands, this album simply represents more of the same from Otis and pals but, when the "same" is some of the best raw soul in existence, one can hardly complain.

Riled at accusations that they do not come up with imaginative album titles Stax reacted like the proverbial bull to the red rag and bestowed upon Otis's fifth and quasi-final album the most complicated title they could conceive of. Technically speaking, I think this album's full title is Complete and Unbelievable: The Otis Redding Dictionary of Soul. However, it is usually referred to by my good self (and other selves of varying goodness) as simply Dictionary of Soul. Of course, the title is not inappropriate as Otis was obviously redefining the very style and content of soul music and, therefore, who better to fill the Samuel Johnson role than Mr. Redding himself? Although the consistency is not as perfect as Otis Blue, Dictionary of Soul was Otis' most confident release to date and clearly augured well for what was supposed to be a long and successful career. Again I am forced to stress that innovations were not flying thick and fast but there appear to be two new tricks that Otis and his band have stumbled upon. Firstly, Otis obviously decided he really, really liked the classic hickism "y'all" as he liberally peppers nearly every song with "y'all"'s at every given opportunity (he even uses it in the title of "I'm Sick Y'All"). Secondly, and just as importantly, Isaac Hayes had quit his job as primary school chef and joined the ranks of Stax talent. Furthermore, him and Booker T obviously scraped together enough loose change between them to purchase a rather natty hammond organ (from Ray Charles, if the real-life documentary 'The Blues Brothers' is to be believed), thereby complementing Otis's incessant "y'all"'s with a sleazy grind, producing a curious but nonetheless impressive sensual funk style that no doubt made Al Green give up the preaching for a momentary career in the entertainment business. Even with this career-high boost of confidence as performers, though, the really impressive aspect of this album is that it showed that Otis had finally fully developed as a songwriter. For once, the majority of tracks are either solely or co-written by Otis. Furthermore, two of the classic songs on here are Otis's own. The opening "Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song)" shows his skills as a pop songwriter were as formidable as the professionals and "My Lover's Prayer" is a ballad of compelling quality, which also shows his improved interest in the lyrical aesthetics. Still, it would not be an Otis Redding album (never mind a dictionary of soul) if it did not include some old tunes made into soul classics by Otis's and Booker T and the MGs' consummate brilliance. The traditional "Tennessee Waltz" is sung like its tale of infidelity happened to Otis yesterday, such is its intense sincerity, and "Try a Little Tenderness", well... you don't need me to tell you this is the definitive version. From the restrained opening, to the gradual build-up, to the final explosive climax, the whole performance trembles with magic and its overall majesty is simply unrivalled. In and amongst the usual mix of ballads and poppy numbers Otis at least broadens his palette with an increased emphasis on sleazy, unrelenting r'n'b and proto-funk from the murky decadence of "I'm Sick Y'All" and "Sweet Lorene" to the twisted blues grind of "Hawg for You". Although I would not wish to overstate this point and somehow belittle Otis' own influence as a result, it is clear that he was to some extent still taking cues from the erotic exuberance of James Brown, who was pumping out proto-funk of prodigious proportions at the same time. In any case, Brown was never as strong on albums as Otis was and although his fifth effort fails to dislodge Otis Blue from the summit it does show clear and irrefutable signs that Otis was accelerating towards his peak as a songwriter, performer and artist. Unfortunately, only a workmanlike duets album and a live document followed before Otis was denied the chance to fully realise his potential and, as a result, finally secure his greatness. It is albums like this one that prove Otis was a contender. Sadly, we'll never know if he could have been the best.

Not content with spending his career ripping off Sam Cooke and James Brown Otis turned his attention towards the rival Marvin Gaye and, in particular, his popular duets with Tammi Terrell. Not to be outdone, Otis kidnapped the daughter of novelty-hit-wonder Rufus Thomas and devised a diabolical scheme in which he would, once and for all, do away with the competition and establish himself as the greatest soul singer on the planet. Or, on the other hand, Stax weakly seized upon the opportunity of making even more money off the back of Otis's growing popularity by attempting to emulate Gaye and Terrell's aforementioned success. Whoever was responsible, Otis or Stax, either way, it turned out to be a move of only modest success and, in retrospect, a rather disappointing way for Otis to pay his last respects to this world. Fans among you will no doubt point to the seminal success of the jive-talking classic "Tramp" as continued evidence of Otis's brilliance but one great song does not a great album maketh (Pink Floyd's Meddle excepted) and, more often than not, one struggles to really see the necessity in this collaboration. Carla Thomas is a strong enough vocalist although a collaboration with Aretha Franklin would have certainly produced more interesting results. In truth, the complacency with which this project was attempted is no more clearly indicated than in the fact Otis nay bothered to write ANY new songs at all (bar a co-write on the forgettable closer "Ooh Carla, Ooh Otis"). In essence, Stax stuck Otis, Carla and Booker T and the MGs in a studio for a month and sat back to watch the money roll in. Indeed, it may just be a case of being tinted by my perceptions, but it even seems like the production for this album is muddier and less impressive than Otis's previous efforts. Strangely, although Otis and Carla are both good vocalists individually, together they often seem less than convincing. This may well be due to the artistic solipsism that Otis appears to perpetuate. That is to say, when singing a tortured ballad it is invariably a case of Otis singing only about himself and the pains he has to endure. Similarly, his sexually-charged romps portray him as a "Love Man" or "Hard to Handle". He simply does not come across as the sort of person who is a selfless, devoted lover. Thus, on here, when Carla serenades him with pledges of romantic allegiance Otis seems decidedly nonplussed. It is surely no coincidence, as already stated, that the true stand-out moment on this album is when Otis and Carla are spitting out derogatory abuse at each other in the battle-of-the-sexes genius that is "Tramp". Gaye and Terrell never got this antagonistic and, it almost goes without saying, every bloody man v. woman r'n'b rubbish that you've heard since can all be stemmed back to this number. The hilarity of Carla hurling insult upon insult upon poor Otis ("you're country, you're straight out the Georgia woods, and you need a haircut tramp") is matched only by his eventual comeback when he reels off the expansive list of expensive cars he owns, in response to the accusation he "hasn't even got fifteen cents". If my above detailed thesis on the restrictions of Otis's finely-crafted artistic personality was to be more simply summed-up with regards to this album it would probably just be: the ballads are nothing special whereas the up-beat numbers are quite fun. The classics "Knock on Wood" and "Lovey Dovey" are knocked out with aplomb and they are even brazen enough to have a pop at "It Takes Two". Clearly it does not surpass Gaye's version (with Kim Weston) but it is still fun to hear the Stax crew breathlessly bang their way through. Although, like all Otis albums, the quality is still high enough to avoid any real condemnation the biggest disappointment in the set is the cover of Sam Cooke's mini-masterpiece "Bring it On Home to Me". Otis and Carla try to set up Cooke's tale of self-destructive tragedy as a dialogue between the wounded protagonist and his departed lover but, almost inevitably, fail to come close to matching the compelling quality of Sam's tortured performance. In one respect Otis was to match Cooke, though, was in his untimely and tragic death. It seems almost certain that, at the time, this album was only intended to be a stop-gap release before Otis, inspired by the likes of Sgt. Pepper and friends with Jimi Hendrix, set out to create his masterpiece and take soul music to the next level. As I said at the start, the fact that he was denied such a chance remains one of the greatest tragedies in twentieth century music.

Rather more appropriately, the last album released during Otis's life-time was a long overdue document of his ferocious live performances which were at least as responsible as his studio hits in forging his popularity. It was, of course, his performance at the Monterey pop festival in 1967, alongside Jimi Hendrix, that established him on the world stage, from which he was expected to secure his status as a contemporary legend. Instead, fate made him only a posthumous legend. The release of this album was followed soon after (although Otis of course perished in between) by In Person at the Whiskey a Go Go and it seems sensible to draw at least cursory comparisons. In this regard, there are two main points to note. Firstly, this was actually the later concert, with Whiskey a Go Go covering a performance from 1966. Secondly, the general set-up is slightly different with this performance emanating from a Stax tour, with Otis playing the headline set, and therefore accompanied by his usual Stax buddies - Booker T, Steve Cropper, Donald Dunn, and the remaining MGs. On his usual club tours, though, Otis tended to play with a different band, the Bar Kays, and it is they who appear on the Whiskey a Go Go gig. Listening to both albums one can, of course, note slight differences in the musical accompaniment but it is to the Bar Kays' great credit that when paired up to Booker T and the MGs they do not come up as any worse. One area in which both albums are remarkably similar is in the fact that they show Otis Redding obviously spent his formative years at the front of James Brown gigs with a notepad and pencil. Not to mention the fact he must have worn through about a thousand copies of Brown's seminal Live at the Apollo album. Otis cranks the intensity up to the max and breathlessly barks his way through the set at a million miles an hour, pausing every now and again to deliver a ballad dripping with sweaty intensity. Still, he could not have picked a better master to learn from and, like so many times before, it often seems like he is showing Mr. Brown how it should be done. "Can't Turn You Loose" is the premature highlight of the concert, with its incessant bass grind, and as Otis suddenly shatters the accumulating frenzy with the cry "YOU THINK WE'RE GONNA STOP NOW? I AIN'T GONNA STOP NOW!" James Brown would no doubt either be nodding approvingly or consulting his lawyer. The majority of tracks are improved upon in their live form by Otis's astonishing energy and vitality but the highlights are undoubtedly the tracks most furious in their original form, with "Respect" and "Shake" screaming out of the speakers before one has barely had time to press play. The rock'n'roll covers of "Satisfaction" and "Day Tripper" also make clearer Otis's intentions in bringing the energy of rock'n'roll within the field of soul music. Otis caps off the set with a drawn out rendition of "Try a Little Tenderness" and you barely need me to tell you a great song is made even greater and a succinct set rounded off with extraordinary aplomb. There will be no encore. As an aside, it is amusing to note that people in the sixties really did say "groovy, baby, groovy" (as the compere does at the start) and it is not just a figment of Mike Myers's imagination.

Given that you lot like to clock the rating before reading the review the first and main question to be posed is what makes this live album worthy of the extra point? As I said before, even though this recording captures Otis working with a different backing band, the Bar Kays (some of whom also perished with him in the air crash), there is not a huge difference in the quality or, indeed, nature of the music. Instead, the fact that this album was recorded in a smaller venue means the sound quality is better, with a more compact power. Secondly, simply, the set-list is better. The fact that it dates back to 1966 means it places Otis in between The Soul Album and Dictionary of Soul. In truth, the same classics are played on both albums with, again, the infectious grind of "I Can't Turn You Loose" being a highlight, although this time a hi-octane "Respect" ends the show, instead of opening it. What really takes this concert to the next level is the covers. "Pain in My Heart" is performed with intoxicating power and "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" is absolutely ripped through. It is drawn out to four-and-a-half minutes (and it fades out as the end of side 1 so we've no idea how long it actually might have been) and, again, Otis completely ignores the lyrics, choosing instead to focus on the simple fact that he lacks some kind of satisfaction. Thus, the song's brilliance rests solely on the intensity and, put simply, the speed of the performance. It builds and builds and builds until you start to wonder whether Otis got the Duracell bunnies to back him instead. As I said, the fact that it fades out means, unfortunately, we'll never know just how impossibly intense it got. The Bar Kays may lack some of the subtlety of Booker T and the MGs but there is no doubt they more than make up for it with energy and the entire set just flies by with barely any chance for a breather between songs. Indeed, the way each song dives straight into the next is nothing short of unabashed Vegas-style showmanship. This album is also more interesting than Live in Europe in that it offers up two "exclusives". In truth, I do not know if there is a studio version of "I'm Depending On You" out there somewhere but it certainly never turned up on one of his official albums or any Greatest Hits. If not, it is a shame as it is actually one of his best self-penned numbers with an infectious bounce and joyful melody. The absolute highlight of the set, though, (and, Christ, what a highlight!) is his brazen, bold and utterly, utterly brilliant rendition of James Brown's "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag". The bare-faced-cheek aspect is even higher given Brown himself had only released it a few months prior but, by God, OR yet again shows JB how it is done with a simply stunning rendition. The mid-section alone shows one of the best live performers of his era. Which, of course, Otis Redding was. Even without any more studio material following, this live album still reinforces what a magnificent talent Otis was. Indeed, to properly appreciate his worth a live album is an essential listening experience and, as you might have guessed, this is the one to get. Not that Live in Europe is not good but this one just absolutely smokes throughout. Not just his best live album but quite possibly his best album overall. Infallible evidence of exactly why he was one of the greatest performers of the twentieth century.

As my incredibly loyal and large fan base will already know, I try to avoid recommending Greatest Hits. It is my belief that you can usually get an adequate impression of an artist by buying their best album and then, once you get into the artist, you avoid the problem of overlap when buying other albums which tend to render most Greatest Hits compilations utterly useless. That said, I am not a complete snob, and I can see that one's life would not be drastically improved by owning all six of Otis's studio albums, good though they undoubtedly are. Therefore, in this particular case, I will concede that one could just purchase a Greatest Hits collection and, along with a live album (Whiskey a Go Go being the preferred choice), one would have a comprehensive collection of the most noticeable aspects of Otis's career. There are two Greatest Hits available. This one provides forty songs over two CDs, whereas the popular single CD Dock of the Bay: The Definitive Collection halves that number but without any notable omissions. Therefore, both pretty much get the job done, although, obviously, if money ain't an issue you may as well get this one for the additional material. I, of course, own all six Otis albums so why do I also need a Best Of compilation? Ignoring the fact I bought this before I bought the rest of his albums, the primary reason is the fact that A LOT of Otis's classic songs were not included on his official albums. Most have since turned up on the slew of semi-official posthumous compilations that have materialised but I am trying to avoid purchasing them for the moment, to prevent my Otis collection reaching ridiculous proportions, for the sake of completion. As it stands, all the great songs are included here, along with most of the best tracks from the previous albums, so it seems a sound enough stopping point to end my Otis collection. We are, of course, treated to his most famous song - "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay" - which was recorded a matter of days before his tragic death. As is common knowledge, it displays an obvious progression in his ability as a songwriter, particularly in the brilliantly self-introspective lyrics which, for the first time, show Otis taking an interest in all aspects of his artistry. As such, it is a perfect example of the massive potential open to Otis and that which he was finally starting to exploit. Listening to it, it becomes explicitly clear that he was an artist cut off just as he was about to reach his prime (at a mere 26 years of age). Of the other non-album classics, we are treated to the awesome grooves of "Love Man" and "Hard to Handle", for which Otis affects such a strut that so-called cock-rockers appear impotent. "I Can't Turn You Loose" turns up in studio form (although lesser to its live renditions) and "Fa Fa Fa Fa Fa (Sad Song)" is revealed to have an inverted reflection in the form of the joyously optimistic "The Happy Song (Dum Dum)" (sequencing them together is also an excellent, if predictable, move). There are not many songs missed off on here that I would have liked to have seen included but "Ole Man Trouble" is noticeable by its absence, and two of his best Cooke covers, "Wonderful World" and "Chain Gang", are also missing. The sleazy grind of "Hawg for You" and "Scratch My Back" was presumably deemed not poppy enough for inclusion (more the pity). Still, Otis's cannon of material is not that diverse and, over forty songs, you barely notice what is missing or, indeed, what was included. Comprehensive though this compilation is, I can't imagine anyone sitting through both CDs in one sitting. In that respect, The Definitive Collection is a handier snapshot, but for volume of material (including more non-album tracks) this one wins out. Take your pick but make sure you've got at least some Otis in your collection. Despite what might have come in the future, on past material alone he is already one of the greats.

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