You’ve probably heard the song a thousand times. Maybe it was Al Green’s silky 1974 original, or perhaps you’re more of a Talking Heads fan and prefer David Byrne’s twitchy, art-rock reimagining from '78. But there is a massive difference between hearing the track on a playlist and actually sitting down to watch Take Me to the River, the 2014 documentary directed by Martin Shore. It isn't just a concert flick. It’s a literal bridge between generations of Memphis musicians who, frankly, don't get enough credit for shaping every single thing you hear on the radio today.
The film is loud. It’s sweaty. It’s complicated.
When you go to find where to stream it, you aren't just looking for a movie; you're looking for the soul of the Mississippi Delta. Memphis has always been this weird, beautiful pressure cooker of racial tension and creative explosion. Shore’s documentary captures that by pairing legends like Bobby "Blue" Bland, Mavis Staples, and Booker T. Jones with "young" blood (at the time) like Snoop Dogg, North Mississippi Allstars, and Yo Gotti. If you’re trying to understand how a blues riff from 1950 turns into a hip-hop beat in 2024, this is the syllabus.
Where Can You Actually Watch Take Me to the River Right Now?
Finding docs like this can be a total pain because licensing for music films is a nightmare. Honestly, it moves around a lot. Currently, your best bet to watch Take Me to the River is through digital rental platforms. It’s usually hanging out on Amazon Prime Video, Apple TV, and Vudu. If you’re lucky and have a library card, check Kanopy or Hoopla—they often carry these higher-end arts documentaries for free.
Don't confuse it with the 2015 narrative film of the same name. That's a common mistake. You want the one with the Stax Records vibe and the heavy brass sections.
There is also a "sequel" of sorts—Take Me to the River: New Orleans—which came out later. It’s great, don't get me wrong, but the Memphis original has a grit that’s hard to replicate. The 2014 film feels like a rescue mission. It was filmed right as some of these legends were entering their final years. Watching Bobby "Blue" Bland in the studio is heartbreaking and electric all at once. He passed away shortly after filming. That’s the thing about these projects; they capture ghosts.
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The Memphis Sound Isn't What You Think It Is
People talk about the "Memphis Sound" like it's one specific thing. It isn't. It’s a mess. But a good mess.
In the film, you see the Royal Studios—one of the oldest continuously operating labs in the world. This isn't some polished LA studio with marble floors. It’s a converted silent movie theater with a sloped floor that somehow makes the drums sound like thunder. When you watch Take Me to the River, pay attention to the room itself. Lawrence "Boo" Mitchell, the son of the legendary Willie Mitchell, runs the place now. He’s the guy who helped Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars get that specific "Uptown Funk" sound.
The documentary focuses on the collaborative process. It’s not just "here is a history lesson." It is "here is Snoop Dogg sitting in a room with a 70-year-old bluesman trying to find a common language."
The Stax vs. Hi Records Divide
For the uninitiated, Memphis music in the 60s and 70s was dominated by two titans: Stax and Hi Records.
- Stax was gritty, integrated, and raw (think Otis Redding or Sam & Dave).
- Hi Records was smoother, more polished, and dominated by the genius of Willie Mitchell and Al Green.
The film weaves these legacies together. You see the Hi Rhythm Section—the guys who played on every hit Al Green ever had—working with rappers. It sounds like it shouldn't work. It sounds like a gimmick. It isn't. It’s actually pretty seamless because, as the film argues, the DNA is identical.
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Why the Critics Were Split (and Why They Were Wrong)
Some critics back in 2014 felt the movie was too "promotional" or acted like a long music video. I think they missed the point. If you want a dry, academic history of the Civil Rights movement in Memphis, go to a library. This film is about the feeling of the music. It’s about the intergenerational handoff.
When Mavis Staples opens her mouth to sing, the air in the room changes. You can see it on the faces of the younger musicians. There’s a scene where they are recording "Wish I Had Answered," and the sheer power coming out of these older artists is staggering. It makes modern pop music look a bit... thin.
The Cultural Context You Need Before Pressing Play
To really appreciate why you should watch Take Me to the River, you have to understand the tension of 1960s Memphis. While the rest of the city was segregated, Stax Records was a "green room." If you could play, you were in. Black and white musicians were creating the soundtrack to a revolution while the world outside was literally on fire.
The film doesn't shy away from this. It acknowledges that music didn't "fix" racism, but it created a space where it didn't exist for a few hours at a time. Terrence Howard narrates the film with a sort of poetic gravity that helps bridge these historical gaps. It’s less about dates and more about the "vibe," a word I hate using, but here it fits.
Technical Brilliance: The Sound Mix
If you’re going to watch Take Me to the River, please, for the love of everything, don't watch it on your phone speakers. The sound engineering in this documentary is incredible. Martin Shore is a musician himself, and he insisted on high-fidelity captures of the sessions.
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The low end—the bass and the kick drum—is what defines Memphis soul. In the film, you can practically hear the wood of the instruments vibrating. It’s a masterclass in how to record live instruments.
- The Bass: Leroy "Flick" Hodges provides that deep, melodic foundation.
- The Horns: The Memphis Horns bring that sharp, stabbing punctuation.
- The Vocals: Raw, uncorrected, and full of character.
Most modern documentaries use "temp music" or licensed tracks. Here, the music is the documentary. You are watching the creation of an album (the soundtrack is also worth a listen, obviously).
What Most People Get Wrong About Soul Documentaries
Usually, these films are about the "downfall" of an artist. Drugs, bankruptcy, the "where are they now" trope. This film avoids that trap. It’s celebratory without being cheesy. It’s about the fact that these people are still here. Or they were.
The biggest misconception is that soul music ended when disco started. The film proves that soul just mutated. It turned into hip-hop. It turned into R&B. It's a continuous line. When you see a young rapper like Frayser Boy working with an old-school soul singer, you realize they are using the same tools—just different software.
Actionable Steps for the Best Experience
Don't just stream it and half-watch while scrolling through your phone. This is a "lights off, volume up" kind of experience.
- Check the Soundtrack First: If you’re on the fence, listen to the 2014 Take Me to the River album on Spotify or Tidal. If the first three tracks don't move you, the movie won't either.
- Verify Your Stream: Since 2024, licensing has been weird. Prime Video currently has the most stable hosting of the film in the US. If you're in the UK, look toward Sky Arts or specialized music streamers.
- Watch the "New Orleans" Follow-up: If you dig this, the New Orleans version (2022) covers the Big Easy's musical heritage with the same energy.
- Support Royal Studios: They are a living piece of history. If you're ever in Memphis, you can't always just walk in, but you can see the building. It’s a holy site for music lovers.
The influence of the artists in this film cannot be overstated. From Beyoncé to Jack White, everyone has dipped their toes in the water of this river. It’s worth seeing where that water comes from.
Get your sound system ready. Put the phone away. The drum fill at the beginning of the first session is all the invitation you need.