"Chain of Fools" (Aretha Franklin)

Aretha Franklin's sessions with the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section (a.k.a. "The Swampers") in 1967 produced 3 albums-worth of material and a string of hit singles, including a little song called "Respect."  And while music historians and other list-makers rightfully cite "Respect" as a landmark recording, not only for its deep groove but also its cultural impact, I prefer her gritty take on soulster Don Covay's "Chain of Fools," a funky R&B workout that began its life as a song about field laborers until Covay changed the lyrics for Franklin, turning it into a song about a woman who realizes her man is two-timing her.

From moment one, Franklin sets this track ablaze.  The fact that the verses are as hot (or hotter) than the hook itself is a testament to her ability to interpret and own a song completely.  

But, for me, it's her riveting delivery on the breakdown that makes it the best Franklin track of all time.  With just a kick drum and some backing singers, clapping and ooh-ing in time behind her, she easily could have let the energy level drop.  Instead, she testifies like her life and love depend on it.  And it's gripping. 

And as I've said before, The Swampers can do no wrong.  Alongside Stax's house band Booker T. & The MG's, they were the tightest soul musicians of the late 60s.  I mean, just listen to Jimmy Johnson and Joe South's greasy tremolo guitars, Tommy Cogbill's thumping bass, and Roger Hawkins on drums.  It doesn't get funkier than that groove.

In fact, next to Franklin, Hawkins completely steals this show.  His steady, thumping heartbeat on the bass drum and the crack of his sticks against those snares are the stuff of Highway 61 roadhouses.  But then his lively fills and swinging sixteenth notes on the ride cymbal after the breakdown are like an aural signature, letting you know who funkafied the track.

"I Never Loved A Man" (Aretha Franklin)

"I Never Loved A Man" (1967).  
This song is soul.
Story goes, Jerry Wexler (A&R man extraordinaire for Atlantic Records) decided that his newest artist Aretha Franklin needed to record at Rick Hall's Fame Studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama.
Franklin had recorded a number of easy listening singles (can you imagine The Queen of Soul doing anything easy listening?) with Columbia Records, and the records simply didn't sell.  So, Wexler reasoned that putting her in a funkier, bluesier setting with Hall's house band, "The Swampers," would help her tap into her gospel roots.  The hope was she'd strike the same kind of gold that Wilson Pickett had at Fame.
Wexler's hunch was right.  
But the process wasn't easy.
Franklin was understandably apprehensive about heading into the heart of racially-charged 1960s Alabama to record.  In Greg "Freddy" Camalier's 2013 documentary Muscle Shoals, musician/songwriter Dan Penn, who was hanging out during the session and also helped write the single's B-side "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man," recounts the sense of tension and awkwardness in the studio, with Franklin and the band trying (and failing) to "find the groove."  
Says Penn about the session, "There was all of these gears working, but it suddenly came to a (halt).  And it was really quiet.  They had a song, they had an artist, but nobody knew what to do."
(I mean, picture being Franklin and walking into a studio in the middle of rural Alabama.  There are a bunch of young, white dudes sitting around who are supposed to be the key to your new funkier sound, not to mention your second—maybe last—chance at a recording career, and nothing is gelling.  She had to have wondered what the hell she was doing there.)
Out of the blue, keyboardist Spooner Oldham came up with the Wurlitzer keyboard riff that opens the track, and everything else suddenly fell into place: Roger Hawkins's slinky 9/8 drum groove, Tommy Cogbill's greasy bassline, Franklin's churchy piano...
"Aretha jumped right on it.  (The single) was cut within 15 or 20 minutes."
It was her first #1 R&B hit.