Jimmy Ruffin’s “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” Gives Soul to Heartache and Hope in 1966

In the summer of 1966, Motown released a soul ballad that cut through the upbeat rhythm of the era with a raw question: “What becomes of the brokenhearted?” Sung with aching clarity by Jimmy Ruffin, the track became a breakthrough hit, reaching No. 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 6 on the UK Singles Chart. More than a commercial success, it was a song that gave voice to quiet pain, transcending radio formats and generations to become one of the most enduring soul recordings of the 20th century.

Jimmy Ruffin, older brother to David Ruffin of The Temptations, had worked in the shadows of Motown for years before this moment. Born in Collinsville, Mississippi, and raised in Detroit, Jimmy’s early musical foundation came from gospel music. While his younger brother David was being groomed as a star, Jimmy toiled as a session vocalist and factory worker, occasionally stepping in for touring members of Motown groups. His rich, emotive voice didn’t rely on theatrics—it was full of restraint and soul, the kind that revealed sorrow without ever collapsing under it.

The origin of “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” is a story steeped in serendipity and soul. Originally written by William Weatherspoon, Paul Riser, and James Dean, the song was first intended for The Spinners. But when Ruffin heard the track, he begged for a chance to record it. The writers were moved by the conviction in his plea—and more importantly, his voice—and agreed. The song’s theme of post-breakup emptiness, rarely addressed with such emotional maturity in pop music at the time, seemed tailor-made for Ruffin’s dignified delivery.

The recording was a masterclass in Motown orchestration. Produced by William Weatherspoon and arranged by Paul Riser, the track featured The Funk Brothers’ understated rhythm work, alongside soaring strings and The Originals on background vocals. The intro—delicate piano notes under a somber string line—sets the mood instantly, before Ruffin’s voice enters with measured sadness. His phrasing is deliberate but never stiff, his tone trembles but never breaks. Riser’s arrangement built gradually, echoing the rising tension and quiet resilience in Ruffin’s performance.

Upon release, the song stood in contrast to many of Motown’s feel-good singles of the mid-60s. But that contrast is precisely what made it resonate. It climbed the charts slowly and steadily, eventually selling over a million copies and becoming Jimmy Ruffin’s signature hit. Critics praised the song’s lyrical honesty and emotional depth, and listeners connected with the universal pain it captured: the quiet, invisible ache of being left behind.

In the broader cultural context, “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” gave Motown something different—an anthem of sorrow. At a time when the label was focused on hits that crossed racial lines and kept tempos high, Ruffin’s ballad proved that a slower, more introspective song could still break through. It paved the way for other emotionally rich ballads to emerge from the label, balancing Motown’s signature sound with a deeper spectrum of human experience.

The song also marked a turning point in Ruffin’s career. After years of standing in the background, he was suddenly headlining tours, appearing on television, and recognized in his own right—not simply as David Ruffin’s brother. His solo career gained new momentum, especially in the UK, where the song enjoyed renewed popularity in the 1970s as part of the Northern Soul movement. He would return to the UK charts again with future releases, becoming a cherished figure overseas.

“What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” also left a significant mark on the soul genre itself. Its blend of orchestral strings, restrained vocals, and poetic melancholy influenced the trajectory of soul ballads for years to come. Artists like Al Green, Teddy Pendergrass, and even Lionel Richie would borrow from its blueprint: elegant sorrow wrapped in lush, radio-friendly production.

Over the years, the song has been covered by a wide range of artists. Paul Young famously recorded it for the 1991 Fried Green Tomatoes soundtrack, taking it back to the charts. Joan Osborne, Roberta Flack, and Rod Stewart all offered interpretations, but few matched the emotional weight of Ruffin’s original. Bruce Springsteen has even cited it as one of the most perfect soul recordings ever made.

Behind the scenes, Ruffin’s life after the song wasn’t without struggle. While he enjoyed moderate success, he never reached the same commercial heights again. Nonetheless, he continued recording and performing for decades, especially in Europe, where his contributions to soul music were deeply respected. His voice aged with grace, retaining the weariness and wisdom that made “Brokenhearted” so timeless.

In the years since its release, the song has remained a staple of heartbreak playlists and classic soul anthologies. Its lyrics—”Every day heartaches grow a little stronger / I can’t stand this pain much longer”—still speak directly to the human experience of loss. It is both specific and universal, a rare combination that only the finest songs ever achieve.

More than just a relic of Motown’s golden age, “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” influenced how ballads were produced and performed. It widened the emotional vocabulary of soul, proving that subtlety could be just as powerful as bravado. The song also remains a touchstone in conversations about grief and resilience in popular music.

After Jimmy Ruffin passed away in 2014, tributes poured in from both fans and fellow musicians. Most referenced this one track—the one that turned a background singer into a frontman, and a question into a hymn of longing. It was a reminder of the quiet man with the aching voice who asked something no one else was asking—and gave millions a space to feel not alone in their own heartbreak.

“What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” stands as one of Motown’s most introspective masterpieces. It doesn’t just recount loss—it dignifies it. And in doing so, it gave generations of listeners the courage to admit their sorrow, and perhaps, begin to heal.