When you think of "Try a Little Tenderness," your brain probably goes straight to Otis Redding. You hear that slow-burn build, the frantic horns, and Otis basically losing his mind by the end of the track. It’s legendary. But in 1969, three guys from Los Angeles decided to take that same soul blueprint and run it through a rock and roll meat grinder. If you’ve ever spun the debut self-titled album by Three Dog Night, you know exactly what happened next.
The Three Dog Night Try a Little Tenderness version is a fascinating piece of pop history. It isn't just a cover. It’s a statement. At the time, the band was just starting to find its footing, and they needed a showcase for their unique three-part harmony structure. Cory Wells took the lead on this one, and honestly, the result is still a bit of a lightning rod for debate among soul purists and rock aficionados.
Some people call it a masterpiece of blue-eyed soul. Others think it’s a pale imitation of the Stax sound. But here's the thing: it worked. It climbed the charts and helped cement Three Dog Night as one of the biggest hit-making machines of the early 1970s.
The Surprising Origins of a Soul Standard
Most people assume "Try a Little Tenderness" was written for Otis Redding or maybe Sam Cooke. Not even close. It was actually written in 1932 by Jimmy Campbell, Reg Connelly, and Harry M. Woods. Back then, it was a polite, orchestral ballad. It was crooned by the likes of Bing Crosby and the Ray Noble Orchestra. It was gentle. Sweet. A little bit sleepy.
By the 1960s, the song had undergone several face-lifts. Aretha Franklin did a version that was classy and jazzy. But it was Otis Redding in 1966 who turned it into a gospel-infused explosion. When Three Dog Night decided to record it, they weren't looking back at the 1930s. They were looking directly at Otis. They wanted that energy, but they wanted to filter it through the lens of a California rock band.
Chuck Negron, Danny Hutton, and Cory Wells—the three lead singers—had a specific vision. They weren't just a vocal group; they were a vocal force. Their version of "Try a Little Tenderness" highlights the transition from the "Summer of Love" era into the more polished, radio-ready rock of the early 70s.
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Breaking Down the Three Dog Night Arrangement
The track starts off almost deceptively quiet. You’ve got a simple organ line and Cory Wells singing with a gravelly, soulful restraint. It feels like a standard late-60s ballad. For the first two minutes, it stays in that pocket.
Then, the shift happens.
Around the midpoint, the drums kick in with a much heavier, more aggressive backbeat than the Redding version. The harmonies start to stack. While Otis Redding relied on a horn section to provide the "stab" sounds, Three Dog Night used their voices and Jimmy Greenspoon’s organ. It’s a much more "vertical" sound—everything feels stacked high.
The Vocal Mastery of Cory Wells
Cory Wells was arguably the most "soulful" singer in the group. On this track, he’s pushing his range. You can hear the grit. He’s trying to capture that "shouting" style of the Southern soul singers, but there’s a distinct pop sensibility to his phrasing. He doesn't linger on the notes the way a blues singer might; he keeps the momentum moving toward the big finish.
The backing vocals from Hutton and Negron are what really differentiate this. In the original soul versions, the backup is usually minimal or provided by a female chorus. Here, it’s a wall of male voices. It’s thick. It’s loud. It’s very 1969.
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Why the Ending Changed Everything
The climax of the Three Dog Night Try a Little Tenderness cover is where the song usually loses the purists but wins over the rock crowd. It devolves—or evolves, depending on your taste—into a frantic, high-energy rave-up.
The "squeeze her, tease her, never leave her" section becomes a rhythmic chant. The band speeds up. The tension builds to a breaking point. When the song finally crashes into its finale, it’s an absolute wall of sound.
Critics at the time were split. Some felt that the band was "appropriating" a sound they didn't quite own. Others recognized that the band was bringing soul music to a massive white audience that might not have been listening to Stax or Volt records yet. Regardless of the "authenticity" debate, the performance is undeniably tight. You can't fake that kind of timing.
The Impact on the Charts and the Band's Legacy
Released as a single in early 1969, the song reached Number 29 on the Billboard Hot 100. That might not sound like a massive hit compared to "Joy to the World" or "Black and White," which went to Number 1, but it was a crucial stepping stone.
It proved that Three Dog Night wasn't just a bubblegum pop act. They could handle "heavy" material. It gave them credibility in the underground FM radio scene, which was becoming increasingly important.
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Comparisons You Should Know
- Otis Redding (1966): The gold standard. Raw, emotional, and building to a frantic pace.
- The Commitments (1991): A much later cover that actually draws a lot of its DNA from the Three Dog Night energy, believe it or not.
- Chris Brown / Kanye West (2011): Sampling the Redding version for "Otis," showing the song's enduring relevance in hip-hop.
Three Dog Night's version sits in a weird middle ground. It’s more "produced" than Otis, but more "rock" than the 1930s originals. It’s a hybrid.
Common Misconceptions About the Recording
One big myth is that the band hated the song or only recorded it because the label forced them. That’s just not true. Cory Wells was a huge fan of R&B. He pushed for the group to lean into that sound.
Another misconception is that Three Dog Night wrote the arrangement. While they certainly added their own vocal flair, much of the build-up structure was heavily inspired by the way Otis Redding performed it live at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967. They took Otis’s live energy and polished it for a studio recording.
Why You Should Listen to It Today
If you haven't heard the Three Dog Night Try a Little Tenderness version in a while, give it a spin on a good pair of headphones. Notice the way the organ swirls in the left channel. Listen to the way the three voices blend during the bridge.
It’s a masterclass in building tension. In a world of digital perfection and Auto-Tune, there’s something refreshing about hearing three guys actually singing their hearts out until their voices almost crack. It’s human. It’s messy in all the right ways.
How to Appreciate Three Dog Night’s Soul Side
If this track hits the spot for you, don't stop there. The band’s early catalog is littered with soulful covers that often get overshadowed by their bigger, "happier" hits.
- Check out "Eli’s Coming": Their cover of Laura Nyro’s song is another example of high-intensity vocal stacking.
- Compare the Mono vs. Stereo mixes: The mono single version of "Try a Little Tenderness" has a much punchier drum sound that really drives the ending home.
- Watch live footage: There are several clips from 1969 and 1970 of the band performing this. Seeing Cory Wells lead the charge gives you a much better appreciation for the physical effort required to sing this arrangement.
- Explore the "One" album: Their debut record, where this track lives, is surprisingly cohesive and leans much harder into the "rock" side of their sound than their later 70s work.
To truly understand why this version matters, you have to stop comparing it to Otis Redding and start listening to it as a product of its time—a bridge between the soul of the 60s and the arena rock of the 70s.