The streetlights blurred outside the cab window. Rain lashed the glass, an uneven rhythm track against the muted backdrop of city noise. It was late, and I was tired, but then it happened. The song came on the radio—not a clean, digital stream, but that warm, slightly hissing AM signal that makes everything sound immediate, essential. Aretha Franklin’s voice, rising from the fog of 1967, cut through the night: “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.” It’s a piece of music so familiar it risks being taken for granted, yet in that moment, under that late-night spell, it felt newly minted, a profound revelation.
This isn’t just a great recording; it’s an anchor point in soul music, a moment where the gospel fervor Aretha had honed since childhood fused perfectly with the sophisticated arrangements of Atlantic Records. The song landed on her classic 1968 album, Lady Soul, but it was released as a single in 1967. This era was Aretha’s imperial phase, the run of singles she cut with producer Jerry Wexler, engineer Tom Dowd, and arranger Arif Mardin. They understood that the power of her voice was a natural force, and their job was simply to build the most resonant echo chamber for it.
The Gospel Echo in the Studio
The song itself was a gift, originally written by the powerhouse duo of Carole King and Gerry Goffin, reportedly inspired by producer Wexler’s own casual suggestion of the phrase “natural woman.” King’s demo was already moving, but in Aretha’s hands, it ceased to be mere pop music. It became a sermon, a testimony.
The opening is sparse, almost hesitant. A descending figure on the piano, played with a certain, stately grace, establishes the mood. It’s accompanied by a quiet, deep-seated rhythm section. This is not the frantic energy of “Respect.” This is stillness before a storm, the controlled breathing before a profound declaration. The initial arrangement is built on restraint, highlighting the vulnerability in the opening lines. You can practically feel the air in the room, the controlled space where this magic was being captured. For those who invest in quality home audio, the subtle texture of the upright bass and the delicate brushwork on the snare drum are immediately apparent.
Then comes the brass. It enters with a swell, not a shout, framing Aretha’s voice as she moves from introspection into acceptance. Arif Mardin’s orchestration is masterful, knowing exactly when to pull back and when to push forward. The strings are never saccharine; they provide a cushion, a majestic, shimmering backdrop that elevates the song without distracting from the central, raw performance. Every single instrument plays a supporting role, each musician a respectful member of the congregation.
Phrasing, Power, and the Pivot
The song’s genius rests on its dynamic arc, a slow build from whispered realization to full-throated, glorious conviction. Listen to the way she sings the word “Before.” It’s a throwaway word in most songs, but Aretha turns it into a miniature narrative, a moment of profound reflection on her life before this transformative love. Her delivery is elastic, playing with time, stretching a syllable here, clipping a phrase there. It’s a clinic in vocal control and emotional intelligence.
The emotional pivot happens precisely at the title phrase. When she hits, “You make me feel like a natural woman,” the power shifts. It’s not just volume; it’s an absolute assurance. The line is delivered with a cathartic release that suggests the breaking of chains, the shedding of societal expectations, and the simple, profound joy of being seen and accepted.
“It is a vocal performance that transcends mere technical skill, feeling instead like a momentary glimpse into the eternal.”
The guitar work is minimal but crucial. A brief, clean counter-melody occasionally peeks out, a tiny fleck of light against the orchestral dark, adding a bluesy, grounded texture that prevents the arrangement from floating away entirely on the string section. It’s a nod to the earthiness of soul, even in its most elevated form. It grounds the transcendent vocal in the reality of the blues tradition.
This piece of music became a global standard, a definitive version that even its composer, Carole King, acknowledged as superior. It solidified Aretha’s position as the Queen of Soul, a title that became indisputable with this run of recordings. Chart-wise, it was a massive success, further cementing her dominance in both the R&B and Pop spheres, a testament to its universal appeal.
A Love Song for the Ages
What makes this song endure across generations isn’t just the technical brilliance—it’s the universality of its message. It’s not a love song about infatuation; it’s about recognition. It’s the feeling of finally belonging, of a person’s love having the power to restore your inherent, true self. It’s the moment when the scattered fragments of identity are collected and made whole.
I remember once watching a young woman, maybe early twenties, performing this song at an open mic night. She wasn’t Aretha, no one is, but as she reached that crescendo, the entire room stopped. It wasn’t about her voice’s texture; it was about her connection to the narrative, the realization that the words—You make me feel…—still hold the same weight, the same promise, fifty years later. For anyone dedicating time to piano lessons to master the chord changes of classic soul, this track is the North Star. Its simplicity is deceptive; its depth is infinite. It remains a testament to the fact that the most profound songs are often the ones that strip away the artifice and speak directly to the naked truth of the human heart.
The song fades out with a lingering chord, the brass and strings holding their note, allowing Aretha’s final, repeated vocal phrases to hover and then dissolve. It leaves you not with a triumphant bang, but with a quiet, satisfied sense of completion, like waking from a beautiful, restorative dream. Listen to it again, but this time, listen not just to the notes, but to the silence between them.
Listening Recommendations
- “I Say a Little Prayer” – Aretha Franklin (1968): Similar mid-tempo ballad structure with rich string arrangements and gospel-infused vocals.
- “Piece of My Heart” – Erma Franklin (1967): Features a similarly powerful, raw soul vocal performance against a driving, emotional arrangement.
- “You’ve Got a Friend” – Carole King (1971): Written by the same composer, it shares that intimate, restorative emotional core, though presented in a singer-songwriter style.
- “When a Man Loves a Woman” – Percy Sledge (1966): An adjacent classic soul ballad that builds slowly to a cathartic, fully-orchestrated emotional peak.
- “Soul Serenade” – King Curtis (1964): An instrumental track that captures the specific, warm, and slightly wistful studio sound of this era of Southern Soul.