Don's Tunes - Steve Cropper Time is what?

Steve Cropper makes a surprise appearance with the group at Hunter College, New York City, 21st January 1967. 

(Photo by Don Paulsen/Michael Ochs Archives)

Steve Cropper: 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.

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.

Corbin Reiff Interview 

Don's Tunes

Booker T & the MGs 'Time is Tight' live in Stax Studio, 1969

Booker T & The MG's - 'Tic Tac Toe' live [Colourised] 1967 Live in Norway

Booker T. & MGs, "Soul Limbo" on Letterman, April 30, 1991 

I always post Green Onions ( and why not) but here’s another slough of hits

Need to chill before the onslaught!??

                         you're welcome!                         . . . . .  and Hey let's be careful out there

"Twas the Night Before Christmas"

By Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Happy Christmas to All, and to all a Good Night!