1967: Otis Redding - Live in Europe

Pretty much every review of a live album references the fact that live albums usually suck. If the review is positive, it will go on about how the album in question validates the format and works toward conveying the energy, force, and gravitas of the performer. Sadly, this review is no different. I tried, believe me. But the fact remains, you can spin Otis Redding’s studio efforts all you want. You’ll be rewarded with some of the hottest R&B and soul ever recorded, top notch Stax/Volt production, and the clarity only a closed door and good mics can offer. But you won’t find anything that touches the raw sex, forceful delivery, and balls-out, go-for-broke showmanship presented on Live in Europe.

When you listen to this album, it’s best you turn it up loud. Really fucking loud. You can bet they performed it loud. You can bet Otis was belting these jams out at top volume. You can hear it. You can hear it in the way the band breaks up just a bit in all the right places. You can hear while practically tasting the sweat. Punk rock made a hullabaloo about breaking down the barrier between audience and performer, but Live in Europe proved that long before the safety pins and bondage pants blurred the barriers. Artists like Redding weren’t just obscuring the line; they were arguing it never even existed. This isn’t mere pop music. This is communion between crowd and band, between those baring their soul and those witnessing it. This is testifier and testify-ee mixing it up.

Booker T. and his magnificent MG’s provide the backbone here, their fine tuned playing offering the perfect combination of tightly constructed rhythms and loose, joyful abandon. Takes on the Stones (“I Can’t Get No Satisfaction”) and The Beatles (“Daytripper”) rock, yeah, that’s right, rock harder than the originals, tapping into some sort of primal force that both bands eventually appropriated (my jab isn’t intended to downplay any of the historical or artistic significance of said artists. Otis isn’t bigger than Jesus -- I’m just stating a fact, man).

Of course, Otis’ originals crackle here, too. Opener “Respect” blasts out the door, as the crowd spells out O-T-I-S-R-E-D-D-I-N-G in fevered anticipation. I have this theory that there are plenty of good songs with okay bass lines, but the truly greatest songs are made by the effectiveness of their bass lines, and by that logic, “Respect” is hands-down one of the greatest songs ever written. Otis growls, shouts, and claws his way through the song, his last few stanzas a breathless mess of unleashed aggression. In true Stax style, the band wastes no time breaking into “Can’t Turn You Loose,” which rumbles on the strength of it’s choogling organ and the brisk pace of the snare hits. “I know you think I’m gonna stop now/ I ain’t gonna stop,” Otis barks over the break, and the crowd explodes into a sea of whistles, cheers, and shouts as the band roars back in. “Keep the groove going,” he intones, and the crowd becomes percussion, clapping in time with the steady slam of the band.

“I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now)” follows, and, shit, I know I’m getting worked up now, but it’s so lovely, so beautiful, so heartbreaking and gorgeous that writing about it feels silly. Dancing about architecture and all that jazz. It’s simply breathtaking. The most hardened of hearts has to soften just a bit as Otis croons over guitarist Steve Cropper’s immaculate guitar-work. Every child who expresses interest in the guitar should be forced to listen to this song over and over again, and have their Guitar World subscriptions revoked, and maybe over time things will begin to change for the better.

The band launches directly into “My Girl.” While a whole bunch of fuss is made of the comparison between the Motown and Stax sounds, Otis’ take on the song shows just how much the two labels benefited from each other. It’s the sweetest thing on the album, and the brass crescendo on the chorus propels the band into a take on Sam Cooke’s classic “Shake.” Here, over an ass-shaking drum beat, Otis gets the crowd gyrating into a frenzy. Side two finds Otis and the MG’s take on the aforementioned Anglo classics, as well as a version of “Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song)” and “These Arms of Mine.” Ever the performer, Otis leads the band through a pile-driving finale with “Try A Little Tenderness,” undoubtedly leaving every knee in the house weak.

The 10 songs on Live in Europe fly by. The band is all business, and before the stunned audience even has a chance to realize what’s happening, Otis and crew are done and gone. This was the last recording Otis released alive, and while every positive review of an album released just before the artists death mentions its eerie status as a career-definer, well, this review is no different.

DeLorean

There’s a lot of good music out there, and it’s not all being released this year. With DeLorean, we aim to rediscover overlooked artists and genres, to listen to music historically and contextually, to underscore the fluidity of music. While we will cover reissues here, our focus will be on music that’s not being pushed by a PR firm.

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