It almost didn't happen. Berry Gordy, the titan of Motown, hated it. He called it "the worst thing I ever heard in my life." He thought it was too political, too "protesty," and way too far away from the polished, three-minute pop gems that built the Hitsville U.S.A. empire. But Marvin Gaye wouldn't budge. He went on strike, basically. He told the label that if they didn't release What’s Going On, he wasn't going to record anything else.
History proves Marvin was right.
People forget that in 1970, Marvin Gaye was essentially the "Prince of Motown," a sex symbol who sang about pride and joy and how sweet it was to be loved by you. Then his duet partner Tammi Terrell died in his arms after collapsing on stage. His brother Frankie came back from Vietnam with stories that didn't sound like the nightly news. The world was screaming, and Marvin decided he couldn't just sing about love anymore. He needed to talk about what was actually happening on the street.
The Renaldo "Obie" Benson Connection
Most people think Marvin wrote the whole thing in a vacuum. He didn't. The spark actually came from Renaldo "Obie" Benson of the Four Tops. Benson had seen police brutality firsthand in Berkeley—the "Bloody Thursday" riots—and was haunted by the image of police beating up protesters in a park. He wondered, "What is going on?"
He tried to give the song to his own group, but the Four Tops passed. They thought it was a protest song. Benson then offered it to Joan Baez. Finally, he brought it to Marvin Gaye. Marvin took that initial seed and grew it into a multi-layered masterpiece, adding his own experiences with his brother’s letters from the war and his own deep spiritual crisis.
He didn't want to be a singer anymore; he actually toyed with the idea of trying out for the Detroit Lions. He was serious. He trained with them. But the music was too loud in his head to ignore.
✨ Don't miss: Temuera Morrison as Boba Fett: Why Fans Are Still Divided Over the Daimyo of Tatooine
Why the Sound Was a Total Accident
The "vibe" of What’s Going On is legendary. It’s hazy, thick, and feels like a party is happening in the room next door. That wasn't some high-concept studio trick planned months in advance. It was a series of lucky mistakes.
Take the lead vocal. Marvin recorded two different "lead" tracks, just to see which one worked better. The engineer, Ken Sands, accidentally played both of them at the same time during a playback. Marvin heard that double-tracked, conversational sound and his eyes lit up. He realized it represented the internal conflict and the many voices of the city. That "accidental" sound became his signature for the rest of his career.
Then there’s the chatter. Those voices you hear at the beginning? Those are Marvin’s friends—including Detroit Lions players Mel Farr and Lem Barney. They were just hanging out in the studio, drinking, talking, and being real. It wasn't a "sound effect" from a library. It was a snapshot of a moment in Detroit.
The Funk Brothers' Secret Sauce
You can't talk about this song without mentioning James Jamerson. He’s the bassist who played on more number-one hits than the Beatles, yet most people don't know his name. For What’s Going On, Jamerson was reportedly so drunk he couldn't sit up in a chair. He played that iconic, syncopated bass line while lying flat on his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
It’s one of the most sophisticated bass performances in the history of recorded music. It’s melodic, it’s fluid, and it never repeats the same way twice. It shouldn't work. It should be a mess. Instead, it’s the heartbeat of the track.
🔗 Read more: Why Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy Actors Still Define the Modern Spy Thriller
More Than Just a Protest
A lot of writers categorize this as a "protest song." That feels too small. It’s more of a prayer. Marvin wasn't angry; he was heartbroken.
When he sings "Father, father, we don't need to escalate," he’s not just talking about the "Man" or the government. He’s talking to his own father, a strict Pentecostal minister with whom he had a volatile, ultimately tragic relationship. The song operates on two levels: the global struggle for peace and the personal struggle for a son to be understood by his father.
It also touched on things no one was talking about in R&B at the time. Ecology, for one. "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" followed the title track on the album, but the themes are woven throughout. He was looking at the "fish full of mercury" and the "oil wasted on the ocean" way before environmentalism was a mainstream talking point in music.
The Battle with Motown
Berry Gordy really did try to bury this. He thought Marvin was throwing his career away. But a sales executive named Barney Ales snuck the single out to radio stations while Gordy was away. Within days, it was the most added song in the country. It sold 100,000 copies in its first week.
Gordy had to eat crow. He gave Marvin 30 days to finish an entire album based on the single. Marvin stayed in the studio, fueled by a sense of divine mission, and produced a "cycle" where every song flowed into the next. It changed how albums were made. Before this, R&B albums were just two hits and ten fillers. Marvin made a symphony.
💡 You might also like: The Entire History of You: What Most People Get Wrong About the Grain
How to Truly Listen to What’s Going On Today
If you really want to understand the brilliance of this track, stop listening to it through your phone speakers.
- Find the isolated tracks: Search for the isolated bass and vocal stems. Hearing Marvin’s raw delivery—the way he improvises "Right on, brother"—reveals a level of soul that's often polished out of modern music.
- Listen to the "Detroit Mix": There is an early version of the album that was mixed in Detroit before Marvin went to LA to finish it. It’s grittier, heavier on the percussion, and lacks some of the orchestral gloss. It’s like seeing a painting before the varnish is applied.
- Check the lyrics against 1971 news: Look up the headlines from May 1971. The song isn't just "vintage"; it’s a time capsule.
What’s Going On hasn't aged because the questions it asks haven't been answered. It’s a masterclass in how to turn pain into art without becoming cynical. It’s a reminder that sometimes the "mistakes" in a recording—the overlapping voices, the drunk bassist, the singer who refuses to follow the label's rules—are exactly what make it immortal.
To get the most out of this record, look into the work of David Ritz, who wrote Divided Soul: The Life of Marvin Gaye. He provides the heavy lifting on the context of Marvin's headspace during these sessions. Also, seek out the documentary The Real Marvin Gaye for a look at the Detroit Lions connection that nearly changed the course of music history.
Understanding the technical and emotional layers of this song changes it from a "classic" you hear in a grocery store to a living, breathing document of human struggle. It’s worth the deep dive.