The conversation of Woodstock vs. Monterey Pop Festival is, to many people, not even a debate. Woodstock wins. It stands over Monterey like Ali over Sonny Liston.
Woodstock was bigger, more important in the overall scheme of things. Woodstock was like Star Wars: ahead of its time, huge in scope, and containing a message that future generations will never have a problem understanding. Woodstock is East, Monterey is West; in almost all things media- (and history-) related the East wins out.
But the Monterey Pop Festival was significant. It might not roll off the tongue like Woodstock. It might not have the famous documentary but it was a huge event within the history of modern rock. Organized in part by John Phillips of The Mamas & The Papas, the Monterey Pop Festival was an ambitious three day event that famously debuted The Who to an American public, as well as being the first real debuts of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin.
Another significant part of Monterey’s legacy is that this show introduced the world to Otis Redding.
By the time Otis Redding took the stage in Monterey in 1967 he was already known by other artists and by Southern black audiences. He released Otis Blue in 1965 and from this album Aretha Franklin took the song “Respect” and turned it into her own huge hit. But this performance catapulted him to a wider (and whiter) mainstream audience. Redding’s stage presence and energy made him one of the most talked about performers of the festival and, realistically, if Jimi Hendrix hadn’t announced himself with such an otherworldly performance (shocking the crowd with his skills, simulating having sex with his guitar, setting fire to his guitar) it is likely that Redding would have stole the entire show.
Despite all this, though, Otis Redding is most known for one thing, one song.
Released less than a month after his death and recorded three days before he died, “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” was the first posthumous single to ever hit #1 on a U.S. music chart. It not only cemented the legacy of Otis Redding but it (unintentionally) adds another dimension to the argument that death is sometimes the best thing that can happen to a musician.
The music of Otis Redding is one that was born out two seemingly mutually exclusive influences: gospel music and Little Richard. In reality, these two voices and styles aren’t terribly different—gospel has more soul than rock and roll, Little Richard had more rock and roll than soul. When Redding was a child his family moved to Macon, Georgia, which was also the home of Little Richard. He once said of Little Richard, “If it hadn’t been for Little Richard, I would not be here. I entered the music business because of Richard—he is my inspiration. I used to sing like Little Richard, his rock ‘n’ roll stuff, you know. Richard has soul, too. My present music has a lot of him in it.” Though Redding never sang as wild as Richard he had a definite handle on how to command an audience (the crowd at Monterey was taken by his polished look, gregariousness,[1] smile, and of course singing ability).
Redding’s studio music was powerful, soulful, and authoritative[2] and usually backed by Booker T. & the M.G.’s, who to this day are highly revered musicians. Which leads me back to “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.” This song is so mellow and gorgeous, and it shows Redding embarking on a different direction of soul—one that was infused with more down-to-earth (and personal) narrative elements. There are some songs that are so perfect that I find it impossible for anyone who considers themselves to be a fan of music to not like. This is one of those songs. If the waves—the literal ones in the background and the elemental ones that the bass guitar creates—and Redding’s voice don’t connect with you in some positive manner then I don’t know what to tell you.
Here’s the $1 million question: is this song great because Redding died right before recording it, or is it great regardless of the circumstances that unfolded?
Unlike Morrison or Joplin or Lennon (or even Cobain), the last thing that Otis Redding recorded was his masterpiece. When all of the other pop/rock icons died they did not leave behind a great, finished track let alone an above average track that made you think of them differently.[3] If Otis Redding had lived to be 50 years old would “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” have reached #1 on any charts? Maybe not. But I believe it would have still be an iconic song, a once-in-a-lifetime song that would have still acted as an inspiration to countless artists down the line.
We will never know what would have become of Otis Redding had he not died in a plane crash in a lake in Madison, Wisconsin. What we do know is that before he died he recorded this song and it resonated at a powerful clip.
At the end of the day, Otis Redding will always be overshadowed by James Brown and Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield—just like the Monterey Pop Festival will always be overshadowed by Woodstock. But no matter who you put above Redding on an all-time greatest list, none of those artists could have ever produced something as soft and timeless and perfect as this song.
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[1] “So this is the love crowd?” Redding famously said to the audience.
[2] Just listen to “Ole Man Trouble,” the opening track of Otis Blue as an example.
[3] You could maybe make the argument that “L.A. Woman” and “Riders On The Storm”—released three months before Morrison’s death—are an exception, but I would maintain that “Light My Fire,” “Break On Through (To The Other Side)” and “The End” capture Morrison’s essence and mythology better.
