The world felt different in 1965. The cultural lines were being redrawn, and in the sound coming out of the South, there was an urgency, a new kind of honesty that demanded attention. We often look back at the Stax/Volt story through the lens of one man: Otis Redding. More than a singer, he was the seismic center of a musical universe, a voice that could crack with heartbreak one moment and roar with the fire of command the next. And perhaps no single piece of music defines that duality better than the release of his double A-side, “My Girl” b/w “Respect,” a pairing of tenderness and power so stark it remains breathtaking today.
This single arrived in the thick of Redding’s ascendancy, a mid-career moment where his raw talent was being perfectly channeled by the precision and grit of the Stax house band, Booker T. & the M.G.’s, and the arrangement genius of the horn players, The Mar-Keys. While “My Girl” was a cover of The Temptations’ Motown classic, and “Respect” was an original, both tracks were filtered through the unmistakably visceral, muscular sound of the Stax studio in Memphis, Tennessee. This sound, famously devoid of Motown’s polished sheen, was recorded live on a single track machine, capturing the collective breath and energy of the room.
Part I: The Devotion of “My Girl”
Picture the scene: a muggy afternoon in the old movie theater turned recording studio. The air conditioning is humming, and the musicians are close-knit, shoulder to shoulder. Otis is there, not in a crisp suit, but perhaps in a simple, open-necked shirt. He takes The Temptations’ sweet, hopeful serenade and transforms it. While The Temptations offered a choreographed, bright-eyed promise, Otis delivered a world-weary, profound oath.
The arrangement is a masterclass in economy. It begins, as it must, with the iconic four-note guitar riff, a simple, liquid melody played with an unhurried grace. Steve Cropper, the soul architect on guitar, always knew exactly how much to say—and how to leave space for Otis. The drums of Al Jackson Jr. are deep and steady, laying down a slow, swinging foundation that feels more like an anchor than a rhythm.
The instrumentation builds gradually, almost organically. The bass line from Donald “Duck” Dunn is not flamboyant; it’s a deep, reassuring pulse beneath the vocal. The first verse is almost conversational, a man simply stating a fact about his good fortune. But listen closer to the texture. The sound is dry, immediate. You can practically smell the wood and the warm vinyl. When the strings arrive—a layer not common to the deepest Stax cuts, but used here with exquisite restraint—they don’t swoop with Motown glamour. Instead, they provide a shimmering, almost spiritual backdrop, lifting the feeling of devotion out of the personal and into the universal.
His phrasing on the bridge—”I don’t need no money, riches, or fame”—is particularly arresting. He doesn’t sing the words; he breathes them, like a man so content that the material world has lost all meaning. It’s a pure statement of love and gratitude, cemented by the soulful, understated fills from Booker T. Jones on the piano. For anyone seeking the definitive sound of 1960s soul interpreted for a modern, high-fidelity experience, listening to this track on quality premium audio equipment reveals layers of detail—the subtle vibrato on the strings, the woody resonance of the bass—that were simply lost on older playback systems.
Part II: The Command of “Respect”
Flip the record over. The atmosphere shatters. “Respect” is not a gentle request; it is a declaration. It’s a sonic document of the shift in American confidence, a call-to-power delivered from a man who knew his own worth, and knew the worth of his sound.
This track is pure, unadulterated Stax grit. It opens with that infamous, explosive four-count snare hit from Jackson—a full stop that demands immediate silence. Where “My Girl” built slowly, “Respect” arrives at full speed, a freight train of rhythm and horns. The tempo is brisk, the groove is tight, and the entire band is locked into a symbiotic, almost frantic energy. Cropper’s guitar here is choppy, percussive, used more like another rhythmic instrument than a lead voice.
The dynamic interplay is what makes this track a cornerstone of the genre. The horns—The Mar-Keys, featuring Wayne Jackson and Andrew Love—deliver those famous, staccato punches. BAM. BAM. They are punctuation marks of power, hitting with aggressive, controlled blasts that propel the lyric forward. The call-and-response between Otis and the background voices (reportedly The Pinetoppers) adds to the track’s sermon-like intensity: a voice of command, and the congregation answering.
The lyrics, penned by Redding himself, are straightforward. They aren’t about romance; they are about equity. “I’m gonna give you all my money / And all I’m askin’ in return, honey / Is to give me my propers when I get home.” This demand for recognition, for “R-E-S-P-E-C-T,” was a radical statement at the time. It’s a song about the emotional labor that goes into a relationship, and the simple, non-negotiable need to be acknowledged.
“While many associate ‘Respect’ with a later, more flamboyant reading, Otis Redding’s original is a masterclass in restrained, focused power.”
The original Redding version, particularly within the context of the Otis Blue/Otis Redding Sings Soul album from which the material was drawn, is arguably more grounded than the iconic cover that followed. His vocal delivery here is less about showmanship and more about conviction. He doesn’t hold notes; he spits out phrases. The performance is cathartic, an emotional release carefully shaped into a three-minute power surge.
The contrast between these two sides of the single is the genius of the release. On one side, a love so complete it makes you rich without money. On the other, a demand for fundamental human recognition. They are two sides of the same profoundly felt emotional coin. This single is not just a historical artifact; it remains essential listening for understanding the architecture of Southern Soul. It shows us how a simple rhythm section, the perfect brass arrangement, and a voice that contained the full emotional weight of a generation could create timeless art. I often suggest new listeners dedicate time to listening to this album through once without interruption; it’s a complete emotional journey. To study how the simple, driving bass lines anchor the shifting vocal textures is to understand the heart of soul music.
The Legacy in Sound
Otis Redding, tragically, would only have a few more years to fully realize his talent. The release of this single in 1965 placed him firmly on the national and international stage, cementing his position as the “King of Soul” who could move effortlessly between the tender piano balladry and the full-throttle soul revue. This pairing of tracks captures him at that perfect point: before his biggest crossover success, but with his talent already fully matured. Every aspiring musician should seek out this single. Every fan of deep, fundamental American music must listen closely.
For those just starting their journey into classic soul, or for veterans who are considering enrolling in guitar lessons to master Cropper’s signature restraint, this single offers an invaluable masterclass in arrangement, performance, and emotional delivery. It is a record that doesn’t just ask to be heard—it demands to be felt.
Listening Recommendations
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Sam Cooke – “A Change Is Gonna Come”: For the same sense of profound, emotional depth and cultural weight, delivered with a velvet touch.
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Booker T. & the M.G.’s – “Green Onions”: To feel the raw, foundational instrumental groove of the Stax house band, showcasing the tight rhythm section.
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Wilson Pickett – “In the Midnight Hour”: A quintessential track produced by Jerry Wexler and written with Cropper, embodying the muscular, driving Southern Soul energy.
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The Temptations – “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”: For a contrasting Motown track that still carries a gritty, begging quality similar to the emotional plea in Redding’s work.
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Etta James – “I’d Rather Go Blind”: Captures a similar level of raw, almost painful vocal catharsis and blues-inflected soul storytelling.
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Carla Thomas – “Gee Whiz (Look at His Eyes)”: A lighter, earlier Stax track that shows the label’s range, capturing the sweet innocence that provides a contrast to Redding’s intensity.