You’ve heard the horns. You’ve heard the frantic, preacher-style intro that makes you want to confess your sins and dance at the same time. Whether it was from a scratched 45, a Rolling Stones record, or that chaotic scene in The Blues Brothers, Solomon Burke Everybody Needs Somebody to Love is a song that basically defines the DNA of soul music.
But honestly? The story behind the track is way weirder than just a guy in a studio singing about needing a partner.
It involves a "money march," a legendary beef over who actually wrote the thing, and a singer who was literally a consecrated bishop by birth. Solomon Burke wasn't just a singer; he was an industry unto himself. He sold popcorn at his own shows. He ran a limousine service. He was a mortician. And yet, amidst all those side hustles, he managed to cut one of the most enduring anthems in American history.
Why Solomon Burke Everybody Needs Somebody to Love Still Matters
If you look at the charts from 1964, this song didn't exactly set the world on fire. It peaked at number 58 on the Billboard Hot 100. By modern standards, that’s a flop. But music isn't always about the initial peak. Some songs are like slow-burn fuses.
The track is basically a sermon set to a 4/4 beat. It starts with that spoken word "testimony" where Burke addresses the "friends" and "everybody" in the audience. He wasn't just performing; he was holding church. That’s because, according to Burke himself, the melody didn't come from a songwriting session. It came from the "money march" at his family's church in Philadelphia.
Imagine a room full of people marching toward the altar to drop their offerings while tubas and trombones blast a joyful, driving rhythm. That is the literal heartbeat of this song. When Burke brought it to Atlantic Records, the producers thought it was way too fast. They wanted it slowed down. Burke fought them on it. He knew that the energy of the march was what made the spirit move.
The Songwriting Credit Controversy
Here is where things get kinda messy. If you look at the official credits for Solomon Burke Everybody Needs Somebody to Love, you’ll see three names: Bert Berns, Solomon Burke, and Jerry Wexler.
Burke spent years claiming he wrote the whole thing by himself. He said Wexler and Berns—two of the most powerful men in the music industry at the time—basically talked him into sharing the credit. It was the 1960s. That happened a lot. Producers would "tweak" a line or just demand a cut of the publishing rights in exchange for getting the record played on the radio.
Jerry Wexler, on the other hand, maintained until his death in 2008 that it was a genuine collaboration. He claimed they wrote it together in Bert Berns' apartment. Burke, ever the charismatic storyteller, used to say he gave up the credits because he just wanted the "product" out there. He didn't understand the long-term value of publishing back then. Or maybe he did, and he just knew how the game was played.
From the King of Rock 'n' Soul to the Rolling Stones
It didn't take long for the British Invasion kids to find it. In January 1965, only a few months after Burke released his version, The Rolling Stones covered it. Actually, they covered it twice.
There’s a long version on The Rolling Stones No. 2 and a shorter, more frantic version on The Rolling Stones, Now!. Mick Jagger clearly worshipped at the altar of Burke. You can hear it in the way he tries to mimic that breathless, half-preaching delivery. The Stones' version stripped away the horns and replaced them with jangly, aggressive guitars, turning a soul sermon into a rock and roll riot.
Wilson Pickett also jumped on it in 1966. Pickett's version is arguably the most "aggressive" take. He even shouts out Solomon Burke in the intro, acknowledging the King before launching into a version that feels like it’s being fueled by high-octane gasoline.
The Blues Brothers Effect
If you were born after 1970, there is a 99% chance your first exposure to Solomon Burke Everybody Needs Somebody to Love was through John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd.
In the 1980 film The Blues Brothers, the song is the centerpiece of their big performance at the Palace Hotel Ballroom. It’s iconic. The black suits, the Ray-Bans, the synchronized dancing. It introduced a whole new generation to the "King of Rock 'n' Soul."
While some purists felt the movie made a "joke" out of soul music, the reality is that the film saved the careers of many R&B legends. It brought the spotlight back to guys like Burke, James Brown, and Aretha Franklin at a time when disco and synth-pop were taking over.
The Technical Brilliance of the Track
What makes the song work? It’s the "vamp."
Most songs have a verse, a chorus, and a bridge. This song is essentially one long build-up. It starts with a spoken word section over a simple riff.
$$(Riff) \rightarrow (Preach) \rightarrow (Explosion)$$
The tension builds as Burke gets more and more worked up. By the time the backing singers (The Sweet Inspirations, usually) come in with the "Everybody!" response, the listener is already hooked. It uses a "call and response" technique that dates back hundreds of years in African American musical tradition. It’s designed to make you participate. You aren't just listening; you're part of the congregation.
- The Tempo: It’s roughly 115-120 BPM, which is the "sweet spot" for human movement.
- The Horns: They act as the "second voice," punctuating Burke's sentences.
- The Message: It’s universal. It’s not about a specific breakup or a specific romance. It’s a general plea for human connection.
Solomon Burke: A Man of Many Hats
You can't talk about this song without talking about the man's life. Solomon Burke was a massive figure—both literally and figuratively. He often performed while sitting on a literal throne.
He had 21 children. He was a licensed mortician who ran a funeral home in Los Angeles. During the height of the Civil Rights movement, he traveled the country in a bus, often having to sleep in the vehicle because hotels wouldn't take Black guests. He was an entrepreneur who would cook fried chicken and sell it to his fans during intermission because he didn't want the venue owners taking all the concession money.
That "hustle" is in the recording. You can hear the urgency. He’s selling the idea of love like he’s selling a car or a gospel tract. It’s a performance, sure, but it’s rooted in a very real, very gritty understanding of human need.
The Legacy of the 2002 Comeback
For a long time, Solomon Burke was a "legend" who didn't have much of a modern career. That changed in 2002 with the album Don't Give Up on Me. He worked with everyone from Elvis Costello to Tom Waits.
He finally won a Grammy. It was a late-career validation for a man who had influenced everyone from Led Zeppelin to Bruce Springsteen. When he died in 2010 at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport, he was still on the road. Still touring. Still preaching the gospel of soul.
Actionable Insights for the Soul Music Fan
If you want to truly appreciate the depth of this song and the artist behind it, don't just stop at the Spotify Top 5.
- Listen to the "Mono" Mix: The original 1964 Atlantic 45rpm mono mix of "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love" has a punch that the stereo remasters often lose. The drums hit harder, and the horns feel like they’re in the room with you.
- Compare the Intro: Listen to Solomon’s intro, then listen to Wilson Pickett’s, then the Blues Brothers'. Notice how the "preacher" persona shifts from spiritual (Burke) to gritty (Pickett) to comedic (Blues Brothers).
- Explore the "King of Rock 'n' Soul" Catalog: Don't miss "Cry to Me" or "Got to Get You Off My Mind." These tracks show the range of his "country-soul" style that many people forget he pioneered.
- Watch the Live Performances: Search for footage of Burke performing in the 2000s. Even as an older man on a throne, his vocal control and ability to work a crowd were unparalleled.
Solomon Burke Everybody Needs Somebody to Love isn't just a song; it's a piece of cultural history that bridge the gap between the church and the dance floor. It’s proof that sometimes, the best music comes from the most complicated people.
To dive deeper into the world of 60s soul, start building a playlist that focuses on the "Atlantic Soul" era between 1962 and 1966. Look for tracks produced by Bert Berns or engineered by Tom Dowd. You'll find that the DNA of this specific song is woven through almost everything that came after it, from the garage rock of the 70s to the retro-soul revival of today.