More than just a hit record, Otis Redding’s enduring opus, “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay,” is a solemn and sincere ode. With its gentle guitar lines and uncharacteristically introspective tone, the song marked a bold turn for an artist who had quickly built his name on signature fire and grit. Released just weeks after Redding’s tragic death in December 1967, “Dock of the Bay” became the first posthumous No.1 single in American chart history. In that moment, it not only cemented Redding’s iconic legacy but also pushed soul music into new, uncharted waters.

By late 1967, Otis Redding wasn’t just a star—he was a phenomenon in the realm of soul music. His breakout performance at the Monterey Pop Festival that summer introduced him to a broader crossover audience, while his European tours with the Stax/Volt Revue had already established his global appeal. With a high-energy repertoire that included staples like “Respect” and “Try a Little Tenderness,” Redding had climbed near the heights of household-name status. But with “Dock of the Bay,” he was preparing to carry a stable of Stax artists into new territory. The song wasn’t just a hit—it was a deliberate shift in perspective.

Recovering from throat surgery, holed up in Sausalito, California, in August 1967, Redding conceived the song while watching the calm glow of the nearby waters. He listened to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and began sketching out something of an anomaly for his discography—foregoing the sweltering gospel shout of his well-known hits, saving room for space and stillness. When he brought the early fragments of “Dock of the Bay” back to Memphis that November, he went straight to Steve Cropper to complete the composition.

They cut the track over two sessions, on November 22 and December 7, laying down a sparse, bittersweet groove. Redding’s vocal was reflective and restrained, even melancholy—a far cry from his usual full-throated fire. The ending was left unfinished, and there were discussions about bringing in The Staple Singers to fill it out. But during one take, Otis forgot the planned ad-lib and instead whistled through the outro. It was a spontaneous decision that became the song’s standout coda.

Sadly, there would be no final session to polish the demo. On December 10, Redding and four members of the Bar-Kays perished when their plane crashed into Lake Monona in Wisconsin. Only trumpeter Ben Cauley survived, being pulled from the wreckage shortly before going into shock. Bassist James Alexander survived by circumstance, as there wasn’t enough room for him to accompany the rest of the band on the plane. Atlantic and Volt scrambled to put together a new release for a grieving public. A devastated Cropper returned to the studio to finish the last sessions of the fallen soul star. He added the now-famous seagull and wave sound effects, lifting them from a record intended for use in jingles, and handed over the mix in time for a January 8, 1968, release.

Naturally, with such precious posthumous materials from the label’s biggest star, Stax Records executives had some trepidation about moving forward with Redding’s unreleased recordings. Not surprisingly, Jim Stewart, co-founder of Stax, felt the track strayed too far from Redding’s core sound. But the song’s success was immediate and undeniable. It topped the Billboard Hot 100 and R&B charts, reached No.3 in the UK, and eventually sold more than four million copies worldwide. It won Redding two GRAMMY® Awards—Best R&B Male Vocal Performance and Best R&B Song—and became his swan song, a track he never performed live, but one that resonated around the world.

The single also gave rise to the posthumous album The Dock of the Bay, curated by Cropper from leftover sessions, including more of Reddings’ spurt of post-surgery inspiration. Released in February 1968, it topped the R&B chart, cracked the Top 5 on the Billboard 200, and even hit No.1 in the UK. It’s a bittersweet listen—part retrospective, part glimpse of what could have been.

“Dock of the Bay” endures as one of Stax Records’ most iconic and unlikely hits. It’s a reminder of Redding’s range, willingness to evolve, hunger to reach new ears, and the crossroads he settled into while reckoning with his newfound stardom. For a singer so associated with a guttural, full-bodied soul, this gentle meditation on solitude and stasis was a left turn—but a visionary one. In just over two and a half minutes, Otis Redding redefined what soul music could be, then slipped into legend, forever watching the tide roll away.

“We had been trying to find something that Otis could sing that would be a crossover hit,” Cropper told author Robert Gordon in his book Respect Yourself: Stax Records and the Soul Explosion. “We tried ballads, from ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’ to ‘Try a Little Tenderness.’ We came close, but we didn’t really have that record that leaves rhythm and blues and starts going up the pop charts, being played by popular demand. The day we recorded ‘Dock of the Bay,’ we looked at each other and said, ‘This is our hit, we got it.’”

by Jared Boyd