It’s easy to look back at the dawn of the 1960s and see a clean line between the doo-wop of the previous decade and the burgeoning Motown sound. But if you listen closely to the records of Jackie Wilson—especially the incandescent 1959 single, “That’s Why (I Love You So)“—you hear the transition in real-time. It’s a moment of cultural fusion, where the grandiosity of operatic pop collided with the sacred urgency of R&B. It is a defining piece of music from a career built on defying boundaries.
My first encounter with this track was during a road trip, late one night in a car with a static-prone AM radio. The song cut through the noise, not with raw power, but with sheer, undeniable clarity. That voice—agile, flawless, utterly sincere—pulled the atmosphere out of the air. It didn’t just sing the notes; it drew a blueprint for future soul superstars.
The Architect of Excitement
To understand this song is to understand the crucial, early relationship between Jackie Wilson and Berry Gordy Jr. Released on Brunswick Records in 1959, “That’s Why (I Love You So)” was the follow-up to Wilson’s career-defining hit, “Lonely Teardrops.” Both tracks were collaborations between Gordy and Billy Davis (credited as Tyran Carlo), placing Wilson right at the epicenter of a creative dynamo that was about to change American music forever.
While not part of a specific studio album upon its release, it quickly became one of the key tracks that shaped his 1959 compilation, Lonely Teardrops. The song’s immediate commercial impact was huge, propelling it into the top fifteen on the US Pop chart and reaching the top five on the R&B chart. This success proved Wilson wasn’t a fluke; he was a powerhouse ushering in a new era of soulful pop.
Wilson, already nicknamed “Mr. Excitement” for his athletic, dynamic stage presence, was the perfect conduit for Gordy’s ambitious songwriting. Gordy’s vision was to bottle the emotional sincerity of R&B and gospel and blend it with the theatrical sweep of mainstream pop music. “That’s Why” is the sound of that experiment succeeding beyond all expectations.
A Texture of Grand Romance
The arrangement is a study in restrained drama. It begins with a slow, almost breathy build, creating a sense of anticipation that quickly explodes into an uptempo, finger-snapping rhythm. The instrumentation carefully balances the raw energy of rhythm and blues with the sophistication of studio pop production.
The core rhythm section—bass, drums, and guitar—drives the song forward with a steady, shuffling beat. The bass line is simple but infectious, a constant, low-end pulse that locks in with the drums’ light, almost marching snare hits. The piano playing is equally clean, providing bright, rhythmic chordal stabs that punctuate the main melody rather than overpowering it. It’s a very clean, early-Motown-esque texture, emphasizing clarity over complexity.
Over this solid foundation, the crucial emotional texture is provided by the discreet but effective orchestration. Light strings swell under the vocal line, adding that touch of pop melodrama Wilson loved, a quality he picked up from his earlier work with producer Dick Jacobs. This is where the contrast truly shines: the grit is in the beat, the glamour is in the subtle string arrangements, creating a gorgeous tension that makes the whole song lift.
“His voice is a perfect wave, cresting with spectacular, seemingly effortless power right at the point of maximum emotional impact.”
The Voice: A Four-Octave Wonder
The reason this song—and Jackie Wilson’s entire career—endures lies purely in his vocal performance. Wilson possessed a near four-octave range and a seemingly unlimited supply of breath control. In “That’s Why (I Love You So),” he employs every weapon in his arsenal with stunning precision.
He starts in a lower, intimate tenor, confessing his devotion with a straightforward sincerity. As the chorus approaches, the intensity builds, and then—bam—he executes one of his signature, spine-tingling leaps into a soaring, pure-toned falsetto. It’s a sudden, glorious, almost overwhelming release of emotion. This isn’t just showing off; it’s a structural device. The octave leap is the climax of the piece, the musical translation of overwhelming love.
Imagine this vocal prowess being piped directly into your studio headphones today. The sheer dynamic range is startling, from the quiet declarations to the full-throated, gospel-tinged shouts. His vibrato is controlled, not frantic, adding a soulful quiver to the notes he holds. His phrasing is masterful, hitting the last note of a line with a dramatic flourish before falling back into the conversational rhythm of the verse. It’s a performance of total commitment.
The song’s construction is simple—a classic AABA pop structure—but the execution elevates it to high art. It sounds meticulously rehearsed yet bursts with the spontaneity of gospel testifying. That is the magic of Jackie Wilson: he could make the most polished production feel like a church service.
The Legacy of the Leap
This recording represents the absolute peak of Wilson’s R&B phase before he was nudged toward more operatic pop material by his management. It showcases the raw talent that inspired everyone from Elvis Presley (who reportedly said, “I guess that makes me the white Jackie Wilson”) to Michael Jackson, who studied Wilson’s stage movements and vocal runs. The sheer force and grace of Wilson’s vocal acrobatics on tracks like this became the foundational lexicon for soul singers for decades to come.
I once spent a wet Saturday afternoon trying to learn the descending melodic run on the piano that backs Wilson’s final vocal ad-libs. It seemed simple, a light scale, but trying to play it with the same effortless lift that the session player achieved was an exercise in humility. The whole song has that deceptively complex feel: simple structure, world-class execution.
In a hyper-curated modern landscape, where every vocal track is tuned and processed for maximum perfection, listening to “That’s Why (I Love You So)” is a cleansing experience. It’s a reminder of a time when the spectacle was delivered live, in the moment, captured by microphones in a room, powered by nothing more than a generational talent. Its honesty is why it endures. It’s why, even now, I’ll occasionally crank it up on my home audio system and just stand in the rush of that voice.
The feeling it creates is universally human: an overwhelming, irrational feeling of affection that only the most dramatic vocal expression can truly communicate. That is why—the power of pure, unadulterated excitement.
Listening Recommendations
- Sam Cooke – “You Send Me”: Shares the smooth, cross-over elegance and vocal control that characterized early soul-pop masterpieces.
- The Drifters – “Save the Last Dance for Me”: Features a similar late-50s/early-60s arrangement with sophisticated string work and a grand, romantic theme.
- Bobby Darin – “Mack the Knife”: Exhibits the same blend of showmanship, drama, and vocal virtuosity that made Wilson a star.
- Ray Charles – “What’d I Say”: Offers a contrasting but equally vital piece of music that shows the raw, gospel-rooted excitement of the R&B foundation.
- Elvis Presley – “A Mess of Blues”: Reflects the rock and roll connection, showing the shared energetic and stylistic space Wilson also occupied.
- Etta James – “At Last”: Captures the emotional grandiosity and powerful vocal delivery of a performer operating at the peak of their dramatic ability.