The Big O’s Unsung Anthem of the Grind: A Rockabilly Howl Against the Daily Toil
In the pantheon of rock and roll legends, the name Roy Orbison typically conjures images of the operatic balladeer: the dark, sorrowful figure in perpetually black attire and trademark sunglasses, his voice soaring with an almost unbearable, trembling intensity over tales of lost love and profound loneliness. Yet, to confine The Big O to the realm of tragic romance is to overlook the vibrant, often raw, rock-and-roll heart that beat just beneath the surface of his most famous torch songs. A perfect case in point is the driving, irresistible tune, “Working For the Man.”
Released as a single in September 1962 by Monument Records, with the haunting “Leah” as its B-side, “Working For the Man” presented a different, yet equally essential, facet of Orbison‘s artistry. While it wasn’t the kind of earth-shattering, high-drama hit like “Crying” or “Only the Lonely,” its performance was solid and widespread, particularly in the international markets that adored him. In the United States, the single reached a respectable No. 33 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. More significantly, it was an absolute smash hit in Australia, where it soared all the way to No. 1 on the Kent charts, becoming one of the biggest singles of that year down under. Its chart run demonstrated that the simple, visceral theme of the daily grind resonated deeply with listeners across continents.
The sheer authenticity behind the song’s meaning is what gives it its enduring power. Unlike many of his signature tracks that were co-written with his frequent collaborator Joe Melson, “Working For the Man” was penned solely by Orbison himself—and it was deeply personal. It drew inspiration directly from his hardscrabble years before musical fame hit. As he later recalled, this driving rhythm was a memoir of his grueling time working for the El Paso Natural Gas Company. Picture the young Roy Kelton Orbison—not yet The Big O—sweating in the blistering Texas heat, cutting steel, loading trucks, and chopping weeds. He spoke of the sheer physical exhaustion, often being “too tired to eat or even to undress” after a day of hard labor, followed by late-night gigs. The lyrics are a straight-forward, almost primal depiction of this toil, featuring a “straw boss” named Mr. Rose who “wouldn’t cut me any slack.” The song’s call-and-response chorus and its energetic, almost frantic rhythm perfectly mimic the relentless, clock-punching pace of factory or field work.
This is where the nostalgia takes hold for an older generation. “Working For the Man” is a timeless piece of Americana, a musical snapshot of the early 1960s when the post-war boom was in full swing, and millions were clocking in every morning. It’s the sound of the common experience, the universal lament of having to submit to the demands of a boss and a tight schedule: “Well, pick up your feet / We’ve got a deadline to meet / I’m gonna see you make it on time / Don’t relax / I want elbows and backs / I want to see you stay right on the line.” The song isn’t a cry of despair, but rather a playful, slightly rebellious yodel of resignation, an acknowledgment of the price of a paycheck, backed by an insistent, almost rockabilly beat driven by Bob Moore’s tight rhythm section. It’s a song that makes you want to wipe the sweat from your brow, grab a cold soda, and turn up the volume as a minor act of defiance against the workaday world. It remains a crucial piece of the Roy Orbison tapestry, reminding us that even the most ethereal, soaring voice was once grounded in the sweat and dust of a real-life job.