It was followed, a year later by, another collection of a dozen new recordings. The first batch were released in June ’68 as The Immortal Otis Redding – a dozen unreleased tracks, four of which became hit singles, including the deathless, horn-led funk of “ Hard To Handle”. It served as a rather unsatisfactory long-playing eulogy, especially as it emerged that Stax were sitting on a mountain of unreleased Otis sessions recorded throughout 1967. His record label Stax/Volt and its parent company Atlantic, understandably keen to satisfy a desire for a long-player, rush-release an accompanying album called Dock Of The Bay, a curious mish mash of recent singles, b-sides and the odd cover. A week later, Redding’s funeral in his hometown of Macon, Georgia attracts around 5,000 mourners, and his last ever recording ends up topping the charts the world over. In the real world, of course, Redding’s Beechcraft H18 crashed into Lake Monona, killing him and his touring band, with only trumpeter Ben Cauley surviving. Redding goes on to thrive, the star of the Monterey Festival becoming the thread that links 60s Stax, 70s Motown, flower power and the sonic advances of Hendrix, Sly Stone and Stevie Wonder. But I was glad to have worked on it.There’s an alternate universe in which Otis Redding’s private jet lands safely on December 10 1967, where Otis returns to the Stax studio in Memphis, completes his single “ (Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay”, and puts it at the centre of a radical album that transforms soul music as we know it. Who knows what would have happened if he would have stayed alive? I can’t say. We knew that was a hit, a crossover record that could be played on pop radio. “A lot of people think it was the last thing Otis recorded, and it was in a way, but it was done about two weeks before the plane went down. “It was out before Christmas, and he had died on Dec. A song that Otis Redding had initially demoed on November 22, with some additional overdub work done on December 8, was out in a matter of days. The next morning, I came out of the studio at about 6:30 or 7 and handed that mix to Atlantic.”Īfter that, things began moving quickly. I went in and dubbed them down on a two-track machine, with the waves on one track and the seagulls on the other - in a big loop. “I called a buddy of mine at a jingle company, and he found me some seagulls and ocean waves. “I got the idea to add a sound effect recording, with some ocean waves and a seagull,” Cropper tells us. That something, that one additional element, helped Steve Cropper - and “(Sittin’ on the) Dock of the Bay” - get back on track after the Redding tragedy. I had it going pretty good but it felt like it still needed something.” “I locked myself in the control room and started working on the mix of the song. “I got up that night, because I just couldn’t sleep and hit the studio at about 7:30 that next morning,” he says. He kept coming back to the unfinished “(Sittin’ on the) Dock of the Bay,” a song he and Otis Redding felt had supernova potential. Let me sleep on it.’”īut Cropper simply couldn’t nod off. I said: ‘Guys, I can’t go in that studio and work on this today. The label called and said we had to get something out right away.
At the time, Otis had left us with 14 songs that he had done vocals for. “All of it was taken from stuff that was in the can. “That whole album was still raw,” Cropper tells us, in an exclusive Something Else! Sitdown. Now, with the superstar suddenly gone, the label pressed Steve Cropper for something to remember him by. The pair had been at work on a studio project both were sure would represent Otis Redding’s crossover moment. 1 single - but only after Cropper roused himself from crushing grief. Completed in the awful days after Redding’s Decemdeath in a plane crash, the song became the first-ever posthumous No. Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ on the) Dock of the Bay,” released in January 1968, was a labor of love for his friend and musical companion Steve Cropper.
0 kommentar(er)
