When Otis Redding stepped onto the stage at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967, he wasn't just another singer on the lineup. He was a force. Most of the crowd—white, hippie, and used to the psychedelic swirls of the Grateful Dead—didn't really know what to expect from this man in the sharkskin suit. By the time he finished, he had them in the palm of his hand.
That’s the thing about the best of Otis Redding; it isn't just a collection of songs. It’s a physical experience. You don't just "hear" Otis. You feel the grit in his throat and the literal ache in his chest. Honestly, it’s kinda wild that a guy who died at just 26 years old managed to reshape American music so completely.
The Breakthrough: These Arms of Mine
Most people think Otis was always a star, but he actually started as a driver. He drove his friend Johnny Jenkins to a recording session at Stax Records in Memphis in 1962. When the session ended early, Otis begged for a few minutes of studio time.
He sang "These Arms of Mine."
The room went dead silent. Jim Stewart, the co-owner of Stax, famously said the hairs on his arms stood up. This track remains a cornerstone of the best of Otis Redding because it captures his vulnerability. He wasn't trying to be cool. He was begging. That raw, unpolished "begging" style became his signature.
✨ Don't miss: Why October London Make Me Wanna Is the Soul Revival We Actually Needed
Why the "Stax Sound" Was Different
While Motown in Detroit was busy polishing every note to a high-gloss finish, Stax was earthy. It was basically a converted movie theater with a sloped floor that gave the drums a weird, thumping resonance. Otis didn't use sheet music. He would whistle the horn parts to the Mar-Keys and the Bar-Kays, and they’d just... play it.
It was spontaneous. It was messy. It was perfect.
The Definitive Hits You Can’t Ignore
If you’re looking for a starting point, you’ve gotta talk about "Try a Little Tenderness." It starts like a lullaby and ends like a religious revival. By the final minute, Otis is basically screaming, yet it never feels out of control. It’s a masterclass in tension and release.
Then there’s "Respect."
🔗 Read more: How to Watch The Wolf and the Lion Without Getting Lost in the Wild
Most people associate this song with Aretha Franklin. While her version is the definitive feminist anthem, Otis wrote it from a completely different perspective. In his version, it’s a weary man coming home from a hard day's work, asking for a little recognition. It’s faster, punchier, and carries a frantic energy that Aretha smoothed out into a groove.
The Duets and the Deep Cuts
Don't sleep on the stuff he did with Carla Thomas. "Tramp" is a great example of his playful side. Carla calls him "country" and "thick-headed," and he just laughs it off. It shows a range beyond the "Mr. Pitiful" persona that DJs had labeled him with.
- "I've Been Loving You Too Long" – This is arguably the greatest soul ballad ever recorded.
- "Pain In My Heart" – A direct nod to his idol, Sam Cooke, but with more "dirt" in the delivery.
- "Hard to Handle" – Funky, fast, and proof he could have been a rock star if he wanted.
The Tragedy and the Posthumous Masterpiece
In December 1967, Otis’s plane crashed into Lake Monona in Wisconsin. He died just days after recording a song that was a massive departure for him: "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay."
Stax management actually hated the song at first. They thought it was too "pop" or too folk-inspired because of the acoustic guitar. Otis had been listening to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band on repeat and wanted to evolve. He was tired of just being a "soul shouter."
💡 You might also like: Is Lincoln Lawyer Coming Back? Mickey Haller's Next Move Explained
The whistling at the end? He actually forgot the lyrics he wanted to put there. He intended to go back and fill it in with more "soulful" ad-libs, but he never got the chance. Steve Cropper, his guitarist and co-writer, added the sounds of seagulls and crashing waves after the funeral to finish it.
It became the first posthumous number-one hit in U.S. history.
What Really Makes Otis the "King"
A lot of critics, like Mark Ribowsky, have argued that Otis represented the "maturation" of soul. He bridged the gap. Before him, black artists were often covered by white singers who made "cleaner" versions for the radio. Otis flipped the script. He covered the Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction" and made it sound like it belonged to him.
He didn't sing from his diaphragm; he sang from his throat, which actually damaged his vocal cords and required surgery. But that’s why we love it. It sounds like he’s giving you everything he has left.
Actionable Next Steps for New Fans
If you want to truly understand the best of Otis Redding, don't just stream a "Greatest Hits" playlist and call it a day. Do this instead:
- Listen to "Live in Europe" (1967): This is where you hear his true power. The version of "I've Been Loving You Too Long" on this album is legendary.
- Watch the Monterey Pop Footage: You need to see the way he moves. He doesn't dance like James Brown; he vibrates.
- Compare "Respect": Listen to his version right before Aretha's. Notice the shift in tempo and tone. It’s a fascinating look at how a song can change meaning entirely.
- Check out the "Otis Blue" Album: Recorded in a single 24-hour session, it’s widely considered one of the greatest albums in any genre.
Otis Redding wasn't just a singer. He was the heartbeat of the 1960s. Even now, decades later, when that horn section kicks in on "Mr. Pitiful," you can't help but feel like he's right there in the room with you.