In today's Friday Know-It-All, Editor Ira is talking about a “Soul Man” … The 1967 Sam & Dave hit, that is.

The passing of R&B legend Sam Moore in January inspired countless tributes, and I’d wager at least 95 percent of them contained two key words: “Soul Man.” That, of course, is the title of the 1967 hit that became the signature song of Sam & Dave, Moore’s hugely successful pairing with fellow vocalist Dave Prater.

“Soul Man” is one of those Boomer classics that is woven into the DNA of Gen X kids such as myself. Much like “Born To Be Wild,” “I Got You (I Feel Good),” or “Dancin’ in the Streets,” it’s a song that was so omnipresent in my childhood that it’s almost background noise now. It barely even registers as a song unless I actively focus on it. Which I should do more often, because it’s a song that’s well worth the focus. Let’s wander through the deep and occasionally distressing well of music history surrounding “Soul Man.”

Although it’s usually contextualized as a good-time party song, “Soul Man” has surprisingly sober roots. Isaac Hayes, who co-wrote the song with David Porter (who is not to be confused with Dave Prater, who sang it), explained in a 1994 “Fresh Air” interview that the upbeat song was born out of the seismic summer of ’67 and its civil rights battles.

Hayes was a songwriter for Memphis’ legendary Stax record label when the Detroit Uprising broke out in late July. “I remember getting the idea from watching TV and the riots in Detroit,” Hayes later told Terry Gross. “It was said that if you put ‘soul’ on your door, your business establishment, they would bypass it, wouldn't burn it… [“Soul”] was a galvanizing kind of thing as far as African Americans were concerned. And it had that kind of effect of unity. They said it with a lot of pride. So I said, well, why not write a tune called ‘Soul Man’? All you had to do was write about your personal experiences, because all African Americans in this country at the time had similar experiences.”

Hayes and Porter correctly saw that soul was due for a new anthem, and who better to write it than the absolute living embodiment of soul? Likening the effect of people writing “soul” on doorways in Detroit to the story of Passover in the Bible and secret codes employed on the Underground Railroad, Hayes and Porter set to work on a statement of pride and positivity that also happened to be, in Hayes’ words, “very, very commercial.”

As David Porter told American Songwriter, “We talked about a way to make that title have some unique and special thing. An idea that talked about education, that talked about humble beginnings, that talked about all of the special things that make you a special man. A soul man. It was, we felt, a way to create a motivational thing for people—certainly for Black people at the time—but also for any person who wanted to feel that they had something inside of them that gave them the wherewithal to go to the next level… We were thinking in terms of how to make that idea more than just a song talking about a hip guy. We were trying to make it about a special guy.”

The finished product was a perfect fit for Sam & Dave’s signature vocal switches, with Moore and Prater trading lead vocals on each verse and coming together for the choruses. Stax Records’ supremely talented house band Booker T. and the MGs laid down an indelible groove, kicked off by an all-timer of an opening lick by guitarist Steve Cropper, quickly joined by an infectiously energetic brass accompaniment. If you haven’t listened to “Soul Man” in a while, give it a spin and notice just how much music is happening in every moment of the song. It’s a heck of a piece of work.

(A brief lyrical sidebar from a trivia writer who can’t help himself: I’ve long assumed “Soul Man” was a 1969 release because it contains the line “I was educated at Woodstock.” The Woodstock Music and Arts Festival didn’t happen until August ’69, so that would’ve required some speedy but not impossible songwriting turnaround. As it turns out, David Porter was referencing a Black high school outside of Memphis that he felt was synonymous with “humble beginnings, dirt road, getting an education.” It’s pure coincidence that it shared a name with the decade’s most storied music event.)

Sam & Dave’s rendition became one of the biggest hits of arguably the most impactful single year in the history of pop music, climbing to No. 2 on the Billboard chart. Considering that the No. 1 hits of 1967 included “I'm a Believer,” “Ruby Tuesday,” “Penny Lane,” “Happy Together,” “The Happening,” “Respect,” “Light My Fire,” “All You Need Is Love,” “Ode to Billie Joe,” “To Sir with Love,” and “Hello, Goodbye,” that’s some rarified company.

Not to sound too cynical, but the success of “Soul Man” can also be partly credited to savvy branding on the part of Isaac Hayes and David Porter. Rather like “brat” in the summer of 2024, “soul” was an ineffable encapsulation of the vibe of the time. You couldn’t hang an exact definition on it, but it was a thing some people, places, and experiences had and others didn’t. And you definitely wanted to have it.

As Hayes noted, “soul” was also a word explicitly tied to Black American culture, another important reason for its longevity. According to historian Adrian E. Miller, some time around the 1940s, “soul” became a slang term for things associated with Black culture in the American South. (The word “Southern,” meanwhile, implied things associated with white culture.) By 1967, it had become a big-time buzzword, especially as applied to soul music and the Southern-inspired cuisine that had come to be known as soul food. Hayes, Porter, Moore, and Prater managed to distill that unifying concept into an upbeat burst of energy that you could really move your feet to.

“Soul Man” has been covered countless times over the decades, for better and for worse. Ramsey Lewis, The Drifters, and the Five Stairsteps all pulled off solid renditions. Kid ‘n Play sampled it for a fun hip-hop slant cover. My personal favorite version comes from the early Minnie Riperton psych-soul group Rotary Connection, who dress it up in baroque arrangements and otherwise get real weird with it.

A stranger side of the “Soul Man” legacy is its long history of being used ironically. Much like “Bad to the Bone” or the aforementioned “Born To Be Wild,” “Soul Man” has been deployed for years to demonstrate that a singer or character does not actually possess the qualities described in the song. That’s at least part of the reason it became the signature song of the decidedly non-soulful-looking Blues Brothers, not to mention Drake & Josh’s Blues Brothers tribute. While there was ultimately more to the Blues Brothers’ shtick than just “dorky white guys play Black music,” that was objectively part of the appeal.

(For the record, as a dorky white guy myself, I’m well aware of the irony of taking dorky white guys to task for redefining “soul” in an article where I strive to define “soul.” I’ll own my hypocrisy.)

More egregiously, Hayes and Porter’s song also loaned its title to one of the 1980s’ more notoriously wrong-headed attempts at social commentary. The 1986 comedy “Soul Man” took on the complex issue of affirmative action in the most 1986 way imaginable: by having teen idol C. Thomas Howell don blackface to play a white college student trying to scheme his way into a Harvard scholarship. This was a major release with a bunch of big names attached! James Earl Jones is in it! So are Leslie Nielsen, Rae Dawn Chong, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Melora Hardin from “The Office,” Ronald Reagan’s son, and the dad from “ALF” whose career ended too sordidly for me to get into it here!

(On the mildly positive side, the movie soundtrack did produce this cheerfully corny cover collaboration between Sam Moore and Lou Reed. As a cover, it adds nothing much to the legacy of “Soul Man,” but as a music video it features inexplicable cameos by Bruce Willis, Elvira, Gumby, and Los Angeles Lakers star Kurt Rambis. That’s all weird enough to be worth a look, but there’s a reason that even a Lou Reed superfan such as myself didn’t know this existed until a few years ago.)

Still, as misguided as the overall project may have been, Sam Moore’s participation in the “Soul Man” movie suggests that he was at least cool enough with it to give it his blessing (and cash the check). In spite of its occasional problematic contextualizations, the people behind “Soul Man” have generally expressed satisfaction at how universal its message turned out to be.

As David Porter explained in an interview with The Bitter Southerner, “We thought we were doing it for Black people, so that message was intended to resonate with our people. But that’s the powerful thing about the soulfulness of our musical contribution. It becomes undeniable if you allow yourself to listen to it… The minute you listen to it, it breaks you down, and you’re never going to be comfortable until you can get some of it. You have closet bigots who love the music but hate the people. Our music resonated with them [too]… So, the ‘Soul Man’ idea, which was geared to be a motivational thing for Black men, ended up being an anthem for all men.”