(ThyBlackMan.com) Wilson Pickett’s voice grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. He could make you dance, make you shout, make you feel like you were right there in the studio with him, sweating out every note. For me — and for so many who love soul music — Pickett’s best songs are more than old hits; they’re living, breathing proof that raw emotion and a tight groove can still stop you in your tracks, no matter how many times you’ve heard them.
This list isn’t just about his biggest chart-toppers. It’s about the tracks that still crackle with that unstoppable energy — the ones you play loud when you need to feel alive. These are the Wilson Pickett songs I think everyone should spend a few minutes with, whether you’re a lifelong fan or just discovering that raspy shout for the first time. So pour a drink, crank the volume, and let the Wicked Pickett remind you what soul music is really about.
1. In the Midnight Hour
“In the Midnight Hour” isn’t just a song; it’s an anthem for soul music and a defining moment in the evolution of R&B. Written by Pickett and Steve Cropper during Pickett’s explosive Stax Records run, it captured the grit of the Deep South and the electricity of the dance floor in under three minutes. It’s remarkable how the song’s simple groove, tight horn stabs, and that seductive backbeat still sound fresh nearly sixty years later.
The genius of “In the Midnight Hour” lies in its atmosphere. There’s a sense that you’re eavesdropping on a steamy night out — that moment when the clock strikes twelve and everything respectable slips away. Pickett’s raspy shout, especially when he leans into those stretched-out “whoa-oh-oh’s,” drips with urgency and want. You can feel the sweat on the dance floor, the heat of bodies swaying in time.
Musically, the backbeat was revolutionary. By shifting the snare drum to the second and fourth beats, the song broke the rigid shuffle that dominated early R&B and laid the groundwork for the groove-heavy soul we know today. It’s the same rhythmic DNA you hear in the best Stax and Muscle Shoals hits that followed.
Play “In the Midnight Hour” today and you’ll see why it’s survived generations. It sounds equally at home at a wedding, a block party, or a dive bar jukebox. There’s no pretense — just pure soul storytelling and an invitation to lose yourself for a few minutes in the best possible way. Pickett didn’t just sing about the midnight hour — he owned it.
2. Don’t Let the Green Grass Fool You
By 1970, Wilson Pickett had already proven he could roar like a gospel preacher and whip a crowd into a frenzy. “Don’t Let the Green Grass Fool You” showed a more mature side — one that could groove deeply without losing that signature grit. This track is all about restraint and wisdom, even as it glides forward on that impossibly smooth Philadelphia soul vibe.
Underneath its easy sway is a timeless warning: appearances can be deceiving. Pickett delivers this cautionary tale with a sly, almost conspiratorial charm. He’s not scolding — he’s pulling you aside like a friend who’s seen it all and wants to save you from making the same mistakes. His voice balances smooth croon with a scratchy edge that keeps you hooked.
The production is classic Gamble and Huff: warm basslines, gentle strings, and those velvety backing vocals that wrap around Pickett’s lead like a silk robe. It’s the sound that Philly International would soon take to the top of the charts with artists like Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes and Teddy Pendergrass.
What’s beautiful is how modern this feels today. There’s a direct line from this song to contemporary neo-soul — you can hear echoes of it in the smooth storytelling of artists like D’Angelo or Leon Bridges. It’s a track that works at 3 a.m. with a glass of something strong in your hand. Pickett might have been warning us not to let the green grass fool us — but the groove itself never lies.
3. 634-5789 (Soulsville, U.S.A.)
There’s a special magic in “634-5789 (Soulsville, U.S.A.)” — the kind that only happens when every piece clicks. Pickett’s voice, the Stax house band, the tight horns, and that playful telephone concept combined to create a track that feels as flirty as it does timeless. It’s not just a phone number — it’s a promise that on the other end is someone who gets it.
The song opens with an irresistible horn riff that instantly pulls you in. Within seconds, Pickett jumps in with that joyful, teasing delivery. He’s half-loverman, half-showman — shouting “If you need a little lovin’” like he’s working a late-night radio show that only broadcasts to lonely souls. It’s cheeky, sincere, and swaggering all at once.
Behind him, Booker T. & the MG’s lay down one of the tightest grooves of the 1960s. Duck Dunn’s bassline is like a dance partner you can trust; it doesn’t just support Pickett — it swings with him. Al Jackson Jr.’s drums punch through with military precision, while Steve Cropper’s guitar licks sneak in little flourishes that add color without ever overshadowing Pickett’s commanding voice.
What keeps “634-5789” so enduring is its sheer charm. It’s a time capsule of a more analog age — an era when you might actually dial a number and hope for a real connection on the other side. Put it on today, and it’ll still make you want to dance, flirt, and maybe text someone you shouldn’t. It’s pure Soulsville: timeless, playful, and impossible to resist.
4. Ninety-Nine and a Half (Won’t Do)
“Ninety-Nine and a Half (Won’t Do)” is Wilson Pickett at his most uncompromising — and that’s saying something. If “In the Midnight Hour” was the soundtrack for a midnight rendezvous, this is the sermon delivered on Sunday morning to make sure everyone knows that half-hearted love won’t cut it. It’s bold, brash, and brimming with that spiritual fire that Pickett carried with him from the church pews.
The track hits hard from the jump. The horn section blasts out of the gate like a call to action, and Pickett rides that wave with the confidence of a man who knows his worth. “Got to have a hundred!” he howls, his voice cracking at the edges in all the right places. It’s part demand, part prayer — and all soul.
Musically, it’s a masterclass in tension and release. Cropper’s staccato guitar riff bounces alongside a tight drum groove that never lets up. The horns shout back at Pickett like an amen corner, answering his every plea. This is soul music as a conversation — leader and band pushing each other higher, bar by bar.
And that message? It couldn’t be more relevant today. In an age of half-baked connections, ghosting, and playing it cool, Pickett’s insistence on all-or-nothing love feels downright revolutionary. It reminds you that passion — real passion — doesn’t settle for ninety-nine percent.
Blast “Ninety-Nine and a Half (Won’t Do)” when you need a reminder that you shouldn’t either. It’s more than just a great groove — it’s a rallying cry for anyone who refuses to settle. That’s the gospel according to the Wicked Pickett: come correct, or don’t come at all.
5. Engine Number 9
“Engine Number 9” is the kind of song that reminds you just how effortlessly Wilson Pickett could slide into the funk lane without losing a shred of his soul edge. By 1970, the music world was shifting — soul artists were experimenting with harder grooves and tighter, syncopated rhythms, and Pickett was right there at the front of the train.
At its core, the song uses the age-old train metaphor — a lover waiting on the next train to bring someone back home. But Pickett transforms that simple theme into something muscular and propulsive. The band locks into a churning rhythm that feels like pistons firing, gears turning, and steel wheels hammering the rails. There’s nothing gentle about this train — it barrels ahead with no brakes.
Listen closer and you’ll catch how the percussion drives the whole track forward, while the rhythm guitar slices in tight, clipped patterns that keep your feet tapping. The horns aren’t ornamental — they blast like the train’s whistle, cutting through the mix at exactly the right moments. And Pickett? He’s the conductor and the passenger rolled into one, howling his demands and prayers to the tracks ahead.
What makes “Engine Number 9” endure is how it captures that moment when soul, R&B, and funk were colliding into something grittier and more dance-floor ready. Crate-diggers and DJs still reach for this track because that beat never fails to get heads nodding. It’s a reminder that Pickett could do smooth or sweet when he wanted — but he could also ride a groove so tough you’d swear he laid the tracks himself.
6. Hey Jude
Covering “Hey Jude” was the sort of bold move only someone like Wilson Pickett would attempt — and absolutely own. Where The Beatles gave the world an uplifting pop ballad, Pickett turned it inside out and took it straight to church. He infused it with gospel soul, blistering emotion, and just the right amount of Southern grit.
His version opens with a reverence you don’t expect. The first verse is gentle, almost like he’s confessing something private to you alone. But this is Pickett we’re talking about — it doesn’t take long for him to rip the lid off. By the time he hits the iconic “Hey, hey, it’s got-ta, it’s got-ta, it’s got-ta” outro, he’s preaching, wailing, and testifying like the song is a revival tent packed with people ready to be saved.
Then there’s Duane Allman. At the time, Allman was a session player at FAME Studios — and his slide guitar here is the spark that lights Pickett’s fire even hotter. The two push each other — Allman’s piercing runs give Pickett the runway to hit higher and higher. Some say this session inspired Allman to form the Allman Brothers Band shortly after — you can hear the birth of Southern rock in those guitar lines.
What makes Pickett’s “Hey Jude” so timeless is that it shows how soul music can reclaim and transform a song. He doesn’t just sing it — he makes it raw, personal, and urgent. It’s the version you play when you want to feel the song in your gut, not just your head. Few covers make you forget the original — this one might.
7. Funky Broadway
When Wilson Pickett released “Funky Broadway,” he didn’t just score a hit — he changed the lexicon of popular music. It was the first Billboard Top 10 song to have “funky” in its title, blazing a trail for what would become one of the most dominant grooves in American music. Originally written and recorded by Dyke and the Blazers, Pickett’s version roared through the radio like a street parade you could hear blocks away.
The song is a shout-out to the nightlife on Broadway — not the shiny theaters of New York, but the blocks in Detroit, Buffalo, or Memphis where the party spilled into the street. Pickett name-checks intersections like he’s dropping pins on a map of where the groove lives. His delivery is all strut and brag — you can practically see him bouncing down the avenue in a sharkskin suit and wide-brim hat.
What makes this track pop is how raw and streetwise it feels. The guitar riff is sharp and tight, the bassline grooves like a sidewalk snake, and the horn section blasts like car horns in a traffic jam. Pickett commands it all with his barked calls and the occasional raspy chuckle, turning every line into an invitation to join the block party.
Decades later, “Funky Broadway” still feels like a DNA strand of modern funk. You can hear its fingerprints on everything from James Brown’s early 70s jams to hip-hop samples and retro-soul bands today. If you ever want to know what it felt like when soul crossed over into funk, start here — then strut out the door like you own the block.
8. I’m in Love
Of all Wilson Pickett’s tracks, “I’m in Love” is one that often flies under the radar — and that’s a shame because it’s a masterclass in how a raw voice can melt into a lush soul arrangement without losing its bite. Written by Bobby Womack, the song is part sweet confession, part gospel vow, and pure Southern soul.
Pickett’s opening lines are conversational — you feel like you’ve caught him admitting something to himself before the band even kicks in. But as the groove builds, so does his intensity. By the chorus, his shout cuts through the buttery strings and warm horns like a spark through oil. It’s a beautiful contrast — the arrangement smooth and elegant, Pickett’s voice just rough enough to remind you this love comes from a real place.
The Muscle Shoals session band behind him deserves its own credit — they craft a groove that’s both romantic and driving. You can hear Womack’s fingerprints in the gently churning guitar, and the backup singers give the chorus a gospel lift that feels like a Sunday morning service for two people who can’t keep their hands off each other.
What makes “I’m in Love” timeless is its balance of sweetness and heat. Modern soul artists like Leon Bridges or Anderson .Paak tap into this same blend — that ability to make romance feel urgent, slightly dangerous, and deeply human. It’s the kind of track you spin late at night when you’re falling deeper than you planned. Pickett didn’t just sing about being in love — he made you feel like you’d caught the same fever.
It’s amazing how Wilson Pickett’s music still feels so immediate — like he’s reaching across the decades to pull you onto the dance floor or stand you up in the church pew. His voice wasn’t polished for the sake of it; it was honest, gritty, and full of the kind of spirit you just can’t fake.
When you spin these songs today, they don’t sound like relics. They sound like reminders that music is supposed to make you feel something deep down — to shout when you’re fed up, to groove when you’re in love, to let it all out when ninety-nine and a half just won’t do. And if these tracks make you do that? Then the Wicked Pickett is still doing exactly what he always set out to do. Long live that voice.
Staff Writer; Jamar Jackson
