Stax Records Week could not go on without Otis Redding. Granted, too many people have made the mistake of using Redding as a catch-all symbol for all of the great moments in Soul music; but at the same time, whenever that aching, smoky-sweet voice pours out of a set of speakers, anyone can understand why this mistake is so often made. Otis Redding sang with a resonant loneliness that can still capture any listener and both soothe and plummet them to emotional depths few artists will ever be able to attain. Listen to the growled agony of “My Lover’s Prayer,” which should be kept away from anyone brooding over a convoluted love affair. No one feels like Otis felt.

Otis Redding, as all soul music aficionados know, died at the age of twenty-six in a plane crash. This crash took away one of the most influential and talented musicians of his decade and genre, but also built a mythology of greatness around Redding. It began with his death, which inspired heartbreak (and a few classic songs of its own), and became a monolith with the success of the posthumously released “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” — now figured at being the sixth most played song in the world. “The Dock of the Bay” became a number one hit, introducing thousands of new fans to an already fallen hero (a feat which could not be accomplished in life, even by tribute covers of a Rolling Stones in the full flush of their heyday).

It was the song which countless musical historians would have loved to have been able to call a turning point in his career, but instead it became the great headstone of a million what-ifs. There are none of the low points which came to other precociously talented musicians in Redding’s career; he left behind no unfortunate duets, no looming rumors of drug problems, not even an extremely suspicious death. His music, raw creative talent, and energy are what carry Redding through time and make him incredibly relevant even to this day.

On Otis’ recent Stax Profiles release, Steve Cropper — Redding’s former collaborator, as well as the man who had a large hand in making “The Dock of the Bay” a success — purposely strays away from the popular Redding of “Hard to Handle” and “These Arms of Mine,” and instead introduces the neophyte listener to another side of the man. He compiles a loving mix tape of alternate takes, covers, and personal favorites to leave an album shimmering with unique resonance.

The biggest and most captivating asset of this collection is the way Cropper purposely showcases Redding’s great interpretative abilities. Redding tears apart his two Sam Cooke covers (“A Change is Gonna Come” and “Shake”) and completely owns them. Both songs came close after Cooke’s own unfortunate death, and they stand as simultaneously a loving tribute and a set of electrifying challenges to the creator of the entire soul genre. Also thrilling are the alternate takes of popular songs such as “Happy Song (Dum, Dum)” and the Stones’ “Satisfaction.”

Yet perhaps most intriguing of all is the simple fact that these are the songs which Redding’s biggest collaborator picked as his favorites. The thought of someone who knew how to interpret and magnify Redding’s already powerful sound and lyrics, to such a large degree, begs the question: is a loving collaboration such as this that brings a fan closest to understanding what Redding himself might have loved best about his music? In other words, this album might just bring one of R&B’s biggest giants back down to earth.

In celebration of the recently-released Stax Profiles series, the Modern Pea Pod is hosting Stax Records Week. Our coverage concludes on Slashed Seat Affairs with a review of the 1973 film Wattstax.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings