Classic Gold (828 MW - burned into my memory banks) was the oldies station. Alarmingly, the relative time periods now dictate that I must consider 'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls as an 'oldie', given the gap between its release in 2005 to today corresponds with that of the material being played on Classic Gold in the 1990s.
I have a lifelong habit of leaving a radio on at low volume as I sleep; these days it's tuned to a talk station, but it began with Classic Gold. As such, I now possess a fairly comprehensive knowledge of popular music from the 1960s and 1970s due to it being zapped into my skull in the moments between slumber and wakefulness. And one of the songs I feel like I heard on this endless looping timewarp was '(Sittin' On) the Dock of the Bay' by Otis Redding.
So, when the opportunity arose to buy this cheap Atlantic Records compilation for, I believe, about three quid, I bit. A small price to pay for a big slice of one's childhood.
Review: When you're young and know no better (as opposed to being old and knowing no better), one's imagination - operating on a level of overdrive - fills in the gaps. For example, when I first heard 'The Logical Song' by Supertramp I was genuinely scared by this article of truth, that transitioning to adulthood would render life cold, grey and meaningless. Another example is the picture I held in my head of Otis Redding purely on the basis of hearing '...Dock of the Bay'. Evidently, on the basis of this song, I was listening to an old man, wearied by life's tribulations, probably fated to die a vagrant's death on the dockside. It was much, much later that I learned Redding was twenty-six when he recorded it.
I implore you to bear two things in mind - one, to a young mind, the literal 'truth' is much easier to buy into than that of the performer or fabulist. The world seems much more obviously delineated, and so when a man sings of whiling away the time at 'the Frisco Bay', I believed that was precisely what happened. I wasn't so gullible as to not understand the concept of acting, but both then and now there's an aura of verisimilitude in music that has the ability to wrong-foot me. The other factor is that in the early-to-mid 1990s it was the norm to not know things like a legacy artist's biographical information or appearance. No Wikipedia, no internet, and no guarantee that as an eight- or nine-year-old you would encounter Otis Redding in a magazine or book you might be reading. Simply put, the Voice was the Truth.
Forgive me my ramblings on youthful befuddlement, especially as I grew up and learned the documented tragedy of a life cut short at twenty-six due to a plane crash. It's humbling, therefore, to reflect on how much was accomplished in such a short space of time. Otis Redding's recording career lasted less than seven years.
Yet, virtually every cut on this twenty-track compilation has something to commend it; and the best material absolutely soars. Of course, the moving parts revolve around Redding's agonised, rough-hewn country-soul voice. It is an astonishing instrument that can be deployed to almost any end, whether it's the braggadocious strut of 'Love Man', late-night rumination on 'Cigarettes and Coffee' and, yes, the sleepy-eyed shoulder-shrug that is '...Dock of the Bay'. He is every bit as adept at interpreting the work of others, as demonstrated on '(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction' or his breath-taking version of Sam Cooke's 'A Change Is Gonna Come'. The latter is a remarkable song in its original iteration, but Redding somehow unlocks even greater depths of emotion - the moment he wails "I was born by the river, in a little tent..." the power and history unleashed upon the listener is enough to provoke a physical reaction.
So, we've got one of the most potent, emotive voices of the twentieth century; and on virtually every track he's backed by one of the greatest backing combos ever assembled. Yep, it's the Stax house band, Booker T. & the M.G.s, so we've also got the collective genius of Booker T. Jones, Steve Cropper, Isaac Hayes, Donald Dunn et al. to contend with. Unsurprisingly, every track crackles with an electricity borne out of the band's rare alchemy. There's a fizz and pulse to proceedings, most obvious when the band are rocking and horns are blaring as on 'Hard To Handle', but even the slower numbers possess a coiled sense of energy and purpose.
(I should also add that, 'A Change Is Gonna Come' aside, every track clocks in at less than three minutes. In, out, job done - every song a little bullet of stuffed with soul and feeling.)
What else is there to say? The Dock of the Bay: The Definitive Collection is an ugly, unwieldy title but as an overview of a career, it's a triumph many times over. Otis Redding's talent burned briefly but with a magnesium brightness. Comedy, tragedy, vulnerability, loss, wistfulness and passion - it's all here. The best soul singer to ever do it? Discuss.
