Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On (1971)
By Rafi Mercer
A saxophone drifts in, gentle, almost conversational. Voices murmur in the background, like neighbours gathering on a front stoop. Then Marvin Gaye’s voice enters — tender, questioning: “Mother, mother…” With those words, soul music changed forever. What’s Going On, released in 1971, was more than an album. It was a turning point — for Gaye, for Motown, for Black music in America, for the very idea of what popular music could say.
Gaye had been Motown’s golden voice throughout the 1960s. He sang love songs, duets, hits built for the dancefloor. Yet by the end of the decade, he was restless. The Vietnam War weighed heavily; his brother Frankie had returned from combat traumatised. Poverty, police brutality, and political unrest filled the streets. And the death of Tammi Terrell, his duet partner and close friend, left him devastated. Gaye stepped back from the spotlight. When he returned, it was with something different — a record that turned inward and outward at once, intimate and political, spiritual and grounded.
“What’s Going On,” the title track, opens the album like a prayer. Built on a languid groove and lush strings, it is not a protest song in the blunt sense. It is softer, more sorrowful. Gaye does not shout. He asks. His voice is layered, harmonising with itself, creating a sound both human and ethereal. The effect is disarming: resistance not as anger but as compassion.
The album unfolds as a continuous suite. Songs blend into each other without pause, like chapters in a single story. “What’s Happening Brother” voices the struggles of returning veterans, its rhythm steady but unsettled. “Flying High (In the Friendly Sky)” addresses addiction with heartbreaking vulnerability, Gaye’s falsetto floating like smoke. “Save the Children” begins almost like a sermon, spoken and sung, its plea universal.
“Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler),” the closing track, brings the themes together. Over a simmering groove, Gaye sings of injustice, poverty, systemic oppression. The refrain — “Make me wanna holler, the way they do my life” — is both cry and chant, despair and defiance. It remains one of the most poignant expressions of Black American experience ever set to music.
What makes What’s Going On so enduring is its balance. It is lushly produced — the strings, the percussion, the layered vocals — yet it never loses intimacy. It is political but never didactic. It is deeply personal yet universal. Gaye’s voice, supple and empathetic, carries it all. He does not dictate. He invites. He sings not only for himself but for his community, for his family, for anyone willing to listen.
At the time, the album was a risk. Motown founder Berry Gordy initially resisted its release, fearing it was too political, too uncommercial. But once it appeared, its success was immediate and overwhelming. Critics hailed it as visionary, and listeners embraced it as truth. It sold millions, reshaping Motown’s image and opening space for more socially conscious music.
Over fifty years later, its relevance has not diminished. The issues it addresses — war, inequality, environmental destruction, systemic injustice — remain urgent. Yet the album is not mired in despair. It carries hope, compassion, faith in community. It models a way of speaking truth without closing doors, of addressing pain without abandoning beauty. That is why it resonates across generations, across genders, across divides.
For women entering what was long framed as a male-dominated world of “serious” albums, What’s Going On offers a different vision. It is not about bravado or virtuosity. It is about care, tenderness, listening. It shows that protest can be intimate, that resistance can be voiced in falsetto, that strength can be quiet. In this sense, it is as welcoming as it is radical.
On vinyl, the experience is heightened. The grooves are warm, the transitions between tracks seamless. The surface crackle adds to the sense of presence, as if the community of voices were gathered in the room. The artwork — Gaye in raincoat, pensive in a drizzle — reinforces the intimacy. He is not superstar here, but neighbour, brother, son.
What’s Going On is often described as one of the greatest albums ever made. And yet that accolade, while deserved, risks flattening its spirit. It is not simply a masterpiece to be revered. It is a conversation, ongoing, still relevant. To put it on is not only to hear history but to be addressed in the present tense: what’s going on? The question remains, and so does the music.
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.
