Stax Guitar Legend Steve Cropper Opens Up About His Most Iconic, Soulful Songs

With the likes of Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Isaac Hayes, and more

Photo by Michael Wilson

Steve Cropper has a problem that’s extremely unique to him. Nearly every time he ventures out of the house, he has to hear the sound of his own guitar singing and screaming back to him. It happens, “Pretty much every day of my life,” he said. But, “That's okay.” Restaurants, grocery stores, gas stations; there’s hardly a place in America that he can walk into without hearing iconic cuts that he laid down 40 and 50 years back as an in-house producer and guitarist for that venerated Memphis label Stax Records.

One day it might be “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding. Another day could bring “Knock on Wood” by Eddie Floyd,” “In the Midnight Hour,” by Wilson Pickett, “Soul Man,” by Sam and Dave, “Born Under a Bad Sign” by Albert King, or “Green Onions,” courtesy his legendary group Booker T. & The MGs. “I'll be standing there not listening, and my daughter will say, ‘Dad, that's you playing!” And I go, ‘Oh, okay.’

A lot of artists might be content to rest on laurels that large. Not Steve Cropper. In the years since departing Stax, he’s remained exceedingly busy backing some of the biggest names on the Planet onstage and in the studio. He’s also continued writing and recording on his own. On April 23rd the man that Rolling Stone ranked among their list of 100 Greatest guitarists of all-time plans to release what he’s calling his “first proper solo album since 1969.” It’s titled Fire It Up, and if you’re a fan of the singular sounds of Cropper’s guitar mingled over triumphant horns and lush organ arrangements, you’re probably going to enjoy it a great deal.

Recently I had the opportunity to hop on Zoom and chat with Cropper about how’s he’s kept busy during the lockdown, the art of songwriting and soloing, as well as his favorite memories from time spent ripping riffs at the very heart of Soulsville, USA.

You've referred to Fire It Up as your first proper solo album since 1969. How did this project come together?

This album would've never come to light if not for the lockdown. I've always said you can't keep a good musician down. I don't know if I'm any good or not, but you can't keep a musician down too long. They're gonna come up kicking and screaming. So, [producer] John Tevin had all these tracks at his house. He and I used to write once a week on Tuesday. Anyway, the Felix Cavaliere project came up [in 2008]. We were doing an album together and we started with some of the songs we'd been writing, and Felix played on a couple of them, but he said, 'These are great, but even if I finish 'em, I'm probably not gonna sing 'em." He didn't wanna finish the lyrics and all that, so I said "Okay," and we went another way on Nudge it Up. 

These songs I'd written off completely. I'd forgotten about them. John didn't. He'd been working on them and then we'd wrote more songs for other albums and stuff. Then during the lockdown, he called me about putting them out. I said, "We're gonna need a singer." He said, "I got one." He had one. I didn't know at first. I said, "Play me something," and he did. I said, "Where's this guy been all my life?" That's Roger C. Reale. He's amazing. 

Did you record in the studio with him singing, or did he do the vocals on his own?

No, we've never even met one-on-one together. All the vocals on this album were done on an iPhone, which is amazing. Then we sent it down through Pro-Tools into the mix. 

I love your guitar solo on "Out of Love." It's powerful, but restrained at the same time. What is your general approach to soloing?

I just listen to stuff for the first time and just channel whatever hits me. What I don't do is pre-work something out, even when I write the song. The groove is there, the changes are there, but the solo part, I wanna get the inspiration then, not days before. 

Do you workshop much in your free time? How do you keep the chops up?

[Laughs] I have no idea. I don't have any chops, I guess.

Okay, let's not get modest here. 

I'm not one of those guitar players that plays every day. I'll bore myself in 10 seconds if I pick up a guitar to see if it works. And if I'm playing, working on a song, after two seconds I'm already bored to death.

I noticed on the song "Far Away" there was a subtle "Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa" thrown in there near the end. Was that an intentional tip of the cap to Otis Redding?

Yeah, [Laughs]. I remember writing "Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa (Sad Song)." What I don't remember is the other song Otis and I had written at the same time. He was giving me his idea of a saxophone; like air on a reed "Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa" and I said, there's a song right there! It worked out real good.

Going back in time to the Stax years in the 1960s, you were a part of one of the great bands of all-time, Booker T. and the MGs. I wanted to talk to you about one of the members who maybe doesn't get enough shine, the drummer Al Jackson Jr. I've had several conversations with musicians over the years about his abilities, and what he meant to the sound of soul music. What is your estimation of him, and what was it like to play with him for so many of those sessions?

Donald "Duck" Dunn and I said to ourselves that Al Jackson was the greatest R&B drummer to ever live. Some people took us seriously. Some said, "Well, they played with him all the time. That's why the like him." Wrong. I think Anton Figg turned us onto that [Stax concert] film that was shot up in Oslo, Norway [in 1967]. I've made the conclusion that the camera guy either really liked drums or liked Al Jackson. He stayed on him a lot and it proves to me that Al Jackson was the greatest. The thing that he and Otis do together...it was a show! That was it. 

You've described yourself as a rhythm player first before everything else. What was the secret behind the chemistry between your guitar and his drum kit?

I've been asked that. "How'd you play so tight with Al Jackson if you were in a big studio with no headphones?" Real simple, I watched his snare drum out of the corner of my eye and came down with his left hand. It's just one of those things. We were tight like that. I know I was playing with feeling, but there's a little delay when you just play to yourself what you hear. What you're hearing and what you're seeing are two different things. It's more like the doppler effect.

A lot of people focus on Green Onions, both the song and the album when talking about Booker T & The MGs, and rightfully so! Personally, however, I really love Melting Pot. 

Wow, thank you! You're the first person to ever say that. 

Really?

I love it too. At the time, reading the press they said, "Nothing new here from Booker T. & The MGs." Wrong. There's a lot of things different about that album. One is, that it was the first album we cut somewhere besides Stax. It was also the first album we put out that was all original songs. No cover songs. 

It was also jammier. You guys jammed on the title track for over eight minutes. "Kinda Easy Like" is almost nine minutes. Do you think that's the direction you might've headed had you stayed together? Stretching your music out?

I don't think we were first. People had already done that. In the days of radio they used to say that they wouldn't play anything over three minutes long. [Stax engineer] Ron Capone got the idea to put "2:59" on everything we mixed. Then it would go to the stamper and when the DJ put it on he'd say "2:59? Alright, put it on." He wouldn't watch his watch. He'd talk up until the singer came in, and he'd talk when the song was over. 

There's another figure at Stax I wanted to talk to you about. Everyone knows Isaac Hayes from those massive albums Hot Buttered Soul, Black Moses, the Shaft Soundtrack. Before that though, he was working along with his partner David Porter writing and arranging so many songs behind the scenes at Stax. What was Isaac Hayes like before he became the iconic, gold chain version of Issac Hayes that we all know and love?

Just a regular guy. Great piano player. Here’s an example of what Isaac was like. He came backstage one day, I say backstage, but the control room at Stax Records was on the stage where the old theater was. Anyway, he came back and said, "I know you don't wanna be bothered when you're mixing, but David Porter and I have written a hit for tomorrow's session and I can't come up with an intro. Would you mind taking five minutes to help me come up with an intro?"

I said, "I guess." So I quit, got my guitar, plugged it and said, "Okay Isaac, play something." He said, "No, you play something." I said, "No, you play something. Play some changes and I'll play something." That was how we came up for the introduction to "Soul Man." It was that quick. One pass and it was done. I call them hammer licks, "Do de duh doo doo." Nothin' different.

How often did those spontaneous moments of inspiration happen at Stax?

I don't know. I cared about intros to songs. I got to noticing, listening to the radio a lot that DJs would talk up until the singer started singing, no matter what instrumental was on the front. If it was two-minutes long, one-minute long, or 10-seconds long they would stop talking when the singer started. I thought, "I'm gonna give 'em something they can't talk over." 

I can give you an example. Eddie Floyd and I knew we had written a pretty good song with "Knock on Wood." Could not come up with an intro. I looked at Eddie and said, "Eddie, I wonder what 'In The Midnight Hour' sounds like backwards. He said, "I dunno, play it!" So I did. That ended up being in the intro to "Knock on Wood." "In The Midnight Hour" you follow the dots down, "Knock on Wood" you follow the dots up. It's the same thing. 

How many versions of "Knock on Wood" did you record with different artists? There's so many renditions out there. It's a classic. 

That I recorded? Maybe two. Duck Dunn called me one time after getting back from a session with Eric Clapton in Jamaica. He said, "You're gonna love this, Eric cut your song. He was very adamant, he said he wanted it just like the record." Then he said, "I thought I did it, but then I got home and I was the only person playing something different! [Laughs]

Speaking of Donald "Duck" Dunn, I was watching some footage the other day of a Neil Young gig in '93 when Booker T & The MGs were backing him up on tour. I was amazed at the way you and Duck were so locked into this grinding, propulsive groove. It set the template for everything.

Duck and I just had a feeling that we could read each other's minds and we knew where to go. It was always a lot of fun when we worked together behind an artist. I've worked with many bass players on many projects and they're all great. I couldn't read their mind like I could Duck. I knew where Duck was going next, and Duck would know where I was going next. 

What was his superpower? What made him so unique?

I think his placement of notes. He played very simple but where he put the notes was incredible. A lot of guys copied him. 

Corbin Reiff @CorbinReiff

This is a Donald “Duck” Dunn appreciation tweet

There are some other songs I wanted to pick your brain about that you recorded back in the day if you don’t mind. The first is "The Hunter" by Albert King. How did that song come about?

That was actually written by a guy called Carl Wells. I don't think he wrote the whole song. We all shared in the song, but that was his idea about "The Hunter." Albert loved it, and he thought it was great. It was a big song for him. The cover version that Tina Turner did was great. 

What were those sessions for "Born Under A Bad Sign" like? Did they take long?

No, but I'm glad they kept it in C sharp. "Do-duh-de-de-de / Duh-da-duh / E, C Sharp."

What about the song "634-5789 (Soulsville U.S.A.)" by Wilson Pickett?

The story of that song is really simple. I got to the Lorraine Motel (in Memphis, TN) and Eddie Floyd says, "Steve, I got a great idea for a hit." I said, "Okay, what?" He said, "I wanna write a song about my girlfriend's phone number. [Laughs]. For some reason, we could not make it work. This is a true story. I grabbed a pencil and a pad off the nightstand at the Motel, took the chair and set myself in the corner and wrote out different combinations of numbers until I got them to go up, down, up, down, 6, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9. 

When we put the song in the movie [Blues Brothers 2000] with Eddie Floyd, Wilson Pickett came over to me and said, "How come Eddie is singing my song?" I said, "Number one, he wrote it. Number two, he's the lead singer in the band and has been for 15 years!" That was [Dan] Aykroyd's idea. That wasn't my idea. 

You also wrote the song "Broke Down Piece of Man" by Sam and Dave. How did that one come together?

I wrote that one with David Porter. Originally, that was a song on the Pepper label. I remember they played it at a Lakers game in LA and they played it as house music. "You broke down piece of man / duh-duh-duh-duh-duh."

You mentioned "634" earlier, there's another story behind that. Wilson told Eddie he didn't like the song. That was one of the few songs that we demoed for an artist coming in, because Eddie and I were writing for other artists. Anyway, Wilson took the lyrics, wadded them up, and threw them across the room. About the same time, he got hit with a flying tackle from Eddie. I just thought, "Oh my God, the session's over!" What I didn't know is they had been friends and buddies for years and always scuffled around. Wilson liked the song, but he also told Eddie he didn't like the song to get Eddie fired up. 

I left and figured, "That's it. Not gonna happen." Wilson called me from the studio when I got back. He'd been trying to get in touch with me. He said, "What time are we writing tonight?" 

Anyway, as I was turning the corner to get into the Lorraine Hotel [that night], I see a big Coca-Cola sign. Say's "Coke is 100%. 99 and a half won't do." I go into Stax and say, "Guys I got a great idea for a song. '99 and a half percent of your love / Got to have all your love both night and night / Got to have 100 / 99 and a half won't do." 

Listening to your stories, it sounds like so much of being a songwriter is just constantly having your eyes and ears open.

Mmhmm. If you're not aware and you're not channeling stuff, you're not going to get the message. You got to open yourself up to it and be ready for it when it hits. You never know where ideas are coming from. I'll give you another example. "Mr. Pitiful."

I was driving home from the studio one night, listening to the radio and the DJ said, "Here's another one from the great Mr. Pitiful." He was talking about Otis Redding, but I'd never heard him been called that before. I went home, but that was still in my head. I get up the next morning and go to take a shower, right before I had to pick up Otis to go to work. I started humming a song, "They call me Mr. Pitiful, everywhere I go / They call me Mr. Pitiful / This everybody now know..."

So I go pick up Otis and sing the song for him. I said, "I got a great idea we need to work on." By the time we got to the studio, he had most of it done. That was the first song we showed the band when we walked in. We cut it first. Two or three takes and it was done.

That's absolutely mind-blowing.

He's working on the horn lines, while I'm showing Duck the bass line. 

A lot of people believe "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" is the last song you recorded with Otis, but you did a session after that with Ronnie Capone where you cut "Champagne and Wine" among other things, correct?

We called ourselves the Midnight Recorders. We cut "Ton of Joy," "Direct Me," and "Champagne and Wine." Just Ronnie Capone, myself and Otis Redding. There are some songs like "Ton of Joy" where Otis sang and played tambourine at the same time. I would set the mics up for Ronnie. Ronnie was a good drummer, and he'd set the recording machine for the guitar and we did it that way. We'd run out, push record, run out and start playing. My favorite song out of that was "Direct Me." A love song. We did all the overdubs and I played bass and guitar on it and other things. A few weeks ago I heard Etta James' version of "Champagne and Wine" that I hadn't heard before. I didn't know she had covered that, and I had played with her for three or four songs and albums.

Steve you've been really generous with your time and your stories. I'm curious, what's next for you coming out of the lockdown?

Whatever comes, comes. I don't plan ahead. I didn't plan for this album, but it's coming out. Am I gonna tour this album? If they lift the pandemic and we're allowed to have audiences again, then absolutely! I'm not gonna play for two people [Laughs].

Fire It Up is available on April 23rd, via Mascot Label Group. You can pre-order your copy here.