In 1959, before Motown became a cultural empire, before The Supremes ruled the charts, before Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder defined a generation, a sharp, pounding piano riff exploded out of a modest Detroit studio and announced something new.
It wasn’t lush. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t sophisticated.
It was raw, direct, and hungry.
The singer was Barrett Strong.
The song was “Money (That’s What I Want).”
And with that single, Motown Records scored its first major hit — laying the foundation for one of the most influential labels in music history.
Before the Empire: Motown in Its Infancy
When “Money” was recorded, Motown wasn’t yet the sleek hit machine we associate with the 1960s. It was a fledgling label operating out of a converted house on West Grand Boulevard in Detroit — soon to be nicknamed “Hitsville U.S.A.”
Founder Berry Gordy had a vision: create music that could cross racial boundaries and reach mainstream America without losing its R&B roots.
“Money” was one of the first big steps toward that dream.
Though technically released on Gordy’s Tamla imprint (Motown’s earliest subsidiary), the success of “Money” proved that the label could compete nationally.
It didn’t sound like New York R&B. It didn’t sound like Chicago blues. It had its own Detroit grit.
The Opening That Demands Attention
Few songs in rock and soul history begin with such urgency.
The piano riff hits like a hammer — loud, percussive, insistent. It’s not decorative. It’s declarative.
Then comes the lyric that would become immortal:
“The best things in life are free…”
A brief pause.
“But you can give them to the birds and bees.”
And then the hook:
“I want money!”
It’s bold. It’s almost shocking in its bluntness.
At a time when many pop songs revolved around romance or heartbreak, here was a record centered on economic desire.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t metaphorical.
It was honest.
A Different Kind of Love Song
On the surface, “Money” sounds like a rejection of romance in favor of material gain. But beneath that bravado lies something more complex.
The narrator isn’t dismissing love entirely. He’s frustrated by poverty. He’s aware that affection alone doesn’t pay bills.
In postwar America — a country celebrating prosperity yet marked by economic inequality — that sentiment resonated deeply, especially within Black communities facing systemic barriers.
Barrett Strong delivers the lyrics with a mix of swagger and desperation. There’s humor in his voice, but there’s also edge.
When he shouts, “That’s what I want!” it doesn’t sound greedy. It sounds urgent.
The Sound of Detroit Grit
Musically, “Money” is stripped-down and aggressive.
The pounding piano dominates the mix, creating a rhythmic foundation that feels almost proto-punk in its intensity. The bassline walks steadily underneath, while the drums snap sharply, keeping the groove tight.
There’s little ornamentation. No sweeping strings. No elaborate harmonies.
This rawness would later be smoothed into the polished “Motown Sound” of the mid-1960s. But here, in 1959, the edges remain jagged.
That grit gives the song its power.
It doesn’t ask politely for attention. It grabs it.
Chart Success and Cultural Impact
Upon its release in late 1959, “Money (That’s What I Want)” climbed to No. 2 on the Billboard R&B chart and broke into the pop Top 30.
For a young label, that crossover success was monumental.
It proved that Detroit could produce hits. It validated Berry Gordy’s vision. It brought national attention to a studio that would soon become legendary.
Without “Money,” the Motown story might have unfolded very differently.
A Blueprint for Future Hits
Though Barrett Strong would not go on to have a long string of solo hits, his role in Motown history is far from minor.
In fact, he became one of the label’s most important behind-the-scenes figures. Strong later co-wrote classics such as “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” contributing to Motown’s golden era in a different capacity.
But “Money” remains his defining performance — the spark that ignited the flame.
The song’s structure — punchy intro, repetitive hook, driving rhythm — became a template for countless R&B and rock tracks that followed.
The Beatles and Global Reach
The influence of “Money” extended far beyond Detroit.
In 1963, The Beatles recorded their own version of the song for their album With the Beatles. Their rendition amplified the raw energy, turning the piano-driven groove into a guitar-powered rave-up.
John Lennon’s snarling vocal performance captured the song’s urgency in a new way, introducing it to an international audience.
For many British listeners, the Beatles’ version served as a gateway into American R&B.
That cross-Atlantic exchange further solidified “Money” as a foundational rock standard.
The Boldness of the Message
One reason “Money” endures is its unfiltered message.
In popular music, desire is often romanticized. But here, the object of desire is financial security.
There’s something refreshingly honest about that.
In a society where discussions of money can feel taboo, Barrett Strong put it front and center.
The song doesn’t glorify greed. It acknowledges reality. Love is wonderful, yes — but it doesn’t pay rent.
That realism feels timeless.
The Motown Contrast
When most people think of Motown, they imagine smooth harmonies, choreographed stage moves, and sophisticated arrangements.
“Money” stands in stark contrast to that image.
It’s loud. Rough. Almost chaotic.
But that contrast highlights Motown’s evolution. The label didn’t begin as a polished machine. It started as a scrappy operation with ambition and hunger.
“Money” captures that hunger perfectly.
A Song That Feels Perpetually Relevant
Decades later, “Money” still feels contemporary.
Its theme is universal. Economic struggle remains a defining reality for many. The tension between love and financial stability continues to shape lives.
Musically, the song’s stripped-down intensity aligns with later movements in garage rock, punk, and indie rock.
You can hear echoes of its pounding minimalism in bands that prize raw energy over production gloss.
That’s the mark of a truly foundational track.
Barrett Strong’s Vocal Edge
Barrett Strong wasn’t known for vocal gymnastics. His strength lay in conviction.
On “Money,” his delivery teeters between controlled shout and melodic phrasing. There’s grit in his tone — a slight rasp that adds authenticity.
He doesn’t oversing. He drives.
That directness makes the song feel less like performance and more like proclamation.
The Economic Subtext
It’s worth considering the broader context of 1959 America.
The country was enjoying postwar economic growth — but that prosperity was not evenly distributed. For many Black Americans, systemic racism limited access to opportunity.
“Money” can be heard as both a personal declaration and a subtle social commentary.
It doesn’t spell out injustice. But the hunger in Strong’s voice carries weight.
Wanting money isn’t about luxury. It’s about survival and dignity.
Why It Still Matters
“Money (That’s What I Want)” matters because it captures a moment when ambition met opportunity.
It marks the beginning of Motown’s ascent. It bridges R&B and rock. It speaks to universal human concerns.
It’s simple, but not simplistic.
The piano riff still hits. The hook still sticks. The message still resonates.
Final Thoughts: The Sound of Hunger
In the grand story of American music, some songs mark transitions. They signal shifts in power, in style, in possibility.
“Money” is one of those songs.
With a pounding piano and a fearless lyric, Barrett Strong helped launch a label that would define a decade.
He sang about desire — not for romance, not for fame — but for financial stability.
And in doing so, he gave voice to a truth that transcends eras.
“The best things in life are free…”
Maybe so.
But in 1959 Detroit, a hungry young label proved that sometimes, money — and the drive to get it — can change the course of music history.
