This is Ray’s Country - A Review: The Idiosyncratic Genius of Ray Charles

By Chris Dunning

“We don’t play no boogie-woogie”.

The leader of a country band in a bar in Florida asks impatiently if the man who had just stumbled through the door was blind. The man in question did happen to be blind, and also happened to be black. The year was 1946; the mockery constitutes a pretty sanitised response to the unwelcome guest. But the man wins the day, making his way over to the old honky-tonk upright piano to play a country tune. “I love the stories”, he tells his bewildered onlookers.

This presumably fictional encounter is placed near the beginning of the 2004 biopic Ray for a specific reason: Ray Charles always liked, listened, and played country music. The same goes in reverse for the 2022 film Elvis, where a young Presley is seen in Black churches, Black rhythm and blues bars, and Black neighbourhoods. “Elvis didn’t steal Black music” is the narrative, “it was always a part of him”.

That country music – White music – was always a part of the life of Ray Charles Robinson is a central theme in his biopic and key to understanding his artistry. On 23rd September last year, which would have been Charles’ 94th birthday, his website, YouTube channel, and social media announced a new package – This Is Ray’s Country.

The deal was this: four original albums, plus a newly curated, career-spanning compilation album, would be remastered and released on CD, vinyl, and streaming. The five discs could also be purchased as a bundle on either CD or vinyl.

This announcement was more significant than it initially appeared. Firstly, it is a rare legacy issue for Ray Charles, whose work gets far less retrospective attention than other iconic artists such as Elton John or The Rolling Stones. Last year alone saw much activity. The Beatles released a remastered vinyl box set of their first seven US albums on 22nd November with an accompanying documentary, Beatles ’64, coming a week after, which served as a closing event for an extremely busy year for Beatles projects. In October, Queen offered us a remastered, expanded, and remixed version of their debut album. August saw MEMPHIS, a 111 track collection of remixed Elvis recordings from his hometown. That month also gave us a limited edition, deluxe 30th Anniversary release of the Oasis debut album Definitely Maybe, to coincide with the earth-shattering news of the band’s reunion. And finally, James Blunt became an internet sensation by ingeniously promoting the 20th Anniversary deluxe edition of his debut album, Back to Bedlam, released in October.

Secondly, as prominent music journalist Robert Christgau noted twenty years ago, “Ray Charles’ discography is a monumental mess”. This is predominantly because, other than his iconic stint at Atlantic in the 1950s, Charles’ work has been incoherently and inconsistently published. In 1960, he started releasing music on the larger label ABC, and created a subsidiary, Tangerine. From about 1973, he released on various labels, including Atlantic, RCA, and Columbia. Much of this material, including the majority of the ABC-Tangerine output, has not seen latter-day CD reissues and is not available on streaming. The music Ray Charles recorded in this period was hugely varied, and included a lot of country work. In 2021, Tangerine released a wide, but not deep, compilation, spanning 1960 to his death, available on CD and streaming. But unless you collected original music on release, much of his work remains unavailable. Thus, a legacy reissue of some of Charles’ more prominent post-Atlantic recordings is a welcome, albeit long overdue, surprise.

Following a couple of years of chart success on ABC with his tried and tested R&B, including the number one Billboard hits “Georgia on My Mind” and “Hit The Road Jack”, Ray Charles went into the studio in early 1962 and started recording country music – with a twist. He wanted to tell the stories he loved so dearly, but with the electric rhythms and particular inflexion of his natural soul. The resulting album, Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, was a groundbreaking work that gave Charles his first number one on the album charts. Not only was Charles supposedly the first black artist to record country music (a seismic social and cultural event in itself), but he did something to it that was unimaginable.

The album takes us on a journey by interchanging classic country tracks, recorded with a traditionally-country string orchestra and male choir (the Jack Halloran Singers) for backing vocals, with numbers using a big brass band and Charles’ trusty and formidable female backing group, the Raelettes. Kicking off with the Everly Brothers’ smash hit “Bye Bye Love”, Charles’ R&B treatment takes the song to a place where the country-rock musicians couldn’t. By having brass numbers every other track, the album keeps a sense of fun and playfulness whilst staying true to the emotional intensity and integrity of its country roots. He and the band know how to take it down and let it smoulder when required, as seen on tracks like “Half as Much” and “It Makes No Difference Now”.

But Charles was as equally a traditionalist as he was a visionary. The album’s string numbers hold perhaps the most soul on not just this album, but of his career. It begs the question: what is soul? It is a sincere communication of emotion, borne of pain and suffering; heartache and misery; or indeed exuberant joy and elation. This is why Charles was perfectly suited to recording country music; he had soul. It has a different inflexion to that of country music titans like Hank Williams or George Jones, but if soul was synonymous with one singer, it would be Ray Charles.

The end of side one, “Born to Lose”, and the start of side two, “Worried Mind”, are hauntingly beautiful renditions from a man pouring his whole heart and soul into the lyrics, taken to the next level by expansive string arrangements and choral backing, with the perfect finishing touch of Charles’ virtuosity on piano, offering no more or less than the song requires. The Hank Williams standard “You Win Again”, perhaps the song that encapsulates most perfectly the essence of country music, is a significantly different arrangement and sound to that of the original, despite holding true to its storytelling and emotional integrity. The final string number gave Charles his third number one single in America and is perhaps his most renowned country rendition. “I Can't Stop Loving You”, written by Don Gibson, and recorded by names such as Roy Orbison, Paul Anka, Frank Sinatra, Duke Ellington, and Elvis Presley, has not seen a version with as much acclaim, or emotion, as that of this album.

Ray Charles had changed country music, but he wasn’t finished. In the September of that same year, 1962, he recorded Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music Volume Two, which was released a month later and reached number two on the album charts. This time, side one was all brass band tracks, with string arrangements on the flip. The opening track shows just why Ray Charles was called ‘the Genius’. He takes country standard “You Are My Sunshine” and turns it into a shimmering, swinging, raucous, romp. Finely placed brass arrangement provides the backing for Charles’ signature soulful vocal, with a ripping response from Raelette Margie Hendrix. It’s the closest Charles gets to replicating his Atlantic recordings from the 50s, or his increasingly developed stage act. With “You Are My Sunshine”, of all things. It served as the album’s lead single, making the top ten on the pop chart and topping the R&B. Genius.

The storytelling is as authentic as ever, with Charles taking two more Don Gibson numbers, “Don't Tell Me Your Troubles” and “Oh Lonesome Me”, and portraying their raw urgency through the brass band and vocal delivery. But as with the first volume, Charles is dutifully soft and subtle when required. The slow but steady pulse of “No Letter Today” conveys the author’s continual sense of longing to hear from the one they love, perfectly accompanied by Charles’ piano. “Midnight” expertly communicates the quiet sombre emotions experienced by those who are alone.

The second side sees a more emotionally vulnerable Charles at work. The first two numbers, “Take These Chains from My Heart” and “Your Cheatin’ Heart”, recorded by Hank Williams in 1952, not long before his death, showcase the perfect combination of country music’s raw storytelling and Charles’ inherent, genuine, soul. Backed now by the strings, the vocals are as close to breaking as you might hear from Charles. Do I believe he has been betrayed by an unfaithful lover? You bet I do; I’m crying. The same could be said for “Making Believe”, another standard with a colossal list of renditions. Emmylou Harris served it perfectly with her ethereal vocals in the late 1970s, but Charles’ raw take is, while quite different, just as effective and authentic. Some thought Volume Two was superior to its predecessor; a perfect combination of genius and soul.

Fast-forward six decades, Modern Sounds volumes one and two, already on streaming services, were ready for the 2024 remasters in September. They sound clean and expansive, more accomplished in production than most early 1960s recordings. The newly pressed vinyl is probably the biggest draw for fans, especially in England where Charles’ original records are rare finds. October saw the release of the other two albums in this package, not previously available on streaming or recent CD reissue. For the 21st century fan of Ray Charles, this amounts to gold-dust. But what would the albums hold in store? Would one be disappointed, surprised, or enamoured with the newly available material?

The end of 1964 saw a marked decline in Ray Charles sales. He was not alone; of the 50s titans still relevant by this point, any remaining grip on the charts was smashed by the British Invasion. Country and Western Meets Rhythm and Blues (also known by its opening track “Together Again”) was released in August 1965 and was the first Charles album to chart outside the top 100. Another phenomenon had also occurred by this point. Charles, buoyed by the success of his early ABC years and by the budget the label could afford, had complete artistic control of his work. This meant that, like with many creatives, his output became less tight and contained, instead becoming both more expansive, and messy. As the name of the album suggests, the work no longer fitted nicely into one genre, box, label, or category. Not satisfied with merely modernising country music, Charles wanted to conflate it directly, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say contrast, with his meat-and-gravy music; R&B.

The opening track is a bona-fide country song, and performance. “Together Again”, written and released by Buck Owens the previous year, would have fitted well on Modern Sounds. An authentically emotional vocal and smooth piano is set to a backdrop of strings and choirs (once more the Jack Halloran Singers). But the album quickly changes pace; “I Like to Hear It Sometime”, written especially for Charles, is as reminiscent of his 50s R&B as it gets. It swings with a bluesy groove, with the singer fully at home with the Raelettes on backing. The rest of the album continues to descend (or ascend?) into music that is neither one thing nor another. But perhaps this is kind of the point. When Ray Charles sings country (or anything else, for that matter), it isn’t so much a country album, as it is a Ray Charles album.

Two self-penned ballads, “Please Forgive and Forget” and “Light out of Darkness” are gorgeous, and earnest, expressions of Charles’ humanity and creativity. He no longer needs to deliver his work in a specific way to a specific audience, but instead can follow freely where his juices flow and his instincts go. That’s not to say he forsakes his roots, however. “Next Door to the Blues” and “Watch It Baby” are classic R&B takes, complete with vocal riffs and brass licks. Even if it wasn’t selling by this point, Ray Charles could still groove. The country is still there, however, just less prevalent than his previous albums. Charles’ treatment of further Buck Owens numbers, “I've Got a Tiger By the Tail” and “I Don’t Care”, as well as the Bill Monroe standard “Blue Moon of Kentucky”, are fun, free, authentically country, and authentically Ray Charles. Perhaps the apex of the album is the ballad “Don't Let Her Know”. Yet again, Charles’ natural ability to convey emotion through his voice brings the lyric a new gravitas, supported faithfully by the Jack Halloran Singers.

Charles was evidently making an album he wanted to, with no fixed sense of what it was or should be, which works to both its benefit and detriment. The album doesn’t flow like his Modern Sounds records, and altogether doesn’t feel that coherent. But I’d argue that doesn’t matter. The point of the album is that Charles is sharing his passion with his audience for a variety of genres and styles, and he is merely inviting you to, hopefully, enjoy it as well. Perhaps the best signifier of this is Charles’ cover of the jazz tune “All Night Long”, first recorded by an eighteen-year-old Aretha Franklin in 1960. Charles had been doing this type of stuff since the 1940s, and it shows. His rendition is less smouldering than the youthful Franklin, instead taking a mature, melancholy approach to a lyric of loneliness and longing. A true artist never stands still, instead always moving around to, from, and between styles, eras, and modes of expression. To my mind, this album further signifies the (albeit idiosyncratic) genius of Ray Charles.

Three months after the disappointing chart performance of Country & Western Meets Rhythm & Blues, in November 1965, Ray Charles released the Buck Owens number “Crying Time”. It made the top ten in both the pop and R&B Billboard charts, the first of his singles to do so since “Busted” in 1963. It also won the Best R&B Recording and Best R&B Solo Performance Grammy Awards in 1967 (surpassing the one R&B Grammy won for “Busted” in 1964). It seems Charles was making a habit of taking country songs and turning them into pop and R&B crossover hits. On the back of this success, the album Crying Time, released in February 1966, went to 15 on the main album chart and, remarkably, gave Charles his only number one R&B album (perhaps the focus here should lie on the fact that, before January 1965, there was no R&B album chart on Billboard).

The accolades are well-deserved, certainly for the single. Charles’ take is transcendentally haunting, imbued with all the emotions suggested by its title. But, just like its predecessor, the album takes an immediate R&B turn. “No Use Crying”, a blues number written for Charles, is a low down, smouldering performance, perfectly conflating Charles’ timeless soul with the contemporary sound of Billy Preston on electric organ. The blues theme is furthered with “Let's Go Get Stoned” and “Going Down Slow”. In fact, the majority of the album is a combination of Charles’ signature soul and old-time blues. The only Charles original is a pulsing number, “Peace of Mind”, complete with Raelettes on backing vocals and comparable to his Atlantic work. Perhaps the best number is the six-and-a-half minute take of the 1940s standard “Drifting Blues”, complete with a bona-fide blues guitar riff, a rare occurrence in Charles’ piano-centric music. But Charles still mixes the album up a little, including a cover of pop tune “Tears”, comparable with the title track for its emotional sincerity.

The paradox of this album, and of the This Is Ray’s Country package, is that, other than the title track, the only vaguely country song is one written by country songwriter Johnny MacRae, called “You're Just About to Lose Your Clown”. The melody and strings give it enough of a country feel that it wouldn’t seem out of place on Modern Sounds, but it’s still just Charles pouring his heart and soul into the lyrics, accompanied by his piano playing saturated with the same feeling. As the only number one R&B album of his career, its decent value; indeed, a country album it maketh not. But perhaps that’s a contradiction that exemplifies Charles’ genre-defying, non-conforming artistry.

The final piece of the new package came in November, with a newly curated compilation, Best Of Country & Western, of tracks from across Charles’ career. Already, however, there is cause for question. Of the thirteen numbers, six appear on the Modern Sounds albums, plus there are the title tracks from Crying Time and Together Again. Thus, only five new songs are present.

The first of these, the album opener, is the critically and commercially successful 1967 single “Here We Go Again”. Another fine combination of country sensibilities and Charles’ knack for delivering a lyric just-right, it remains one of his most renowned post-Atlantic recordings. “Together Again” is a nice follow-on before the pace is picked up with “You Are My Sunshine”. What follows is six heartbreak songs; “Crying Time” and five string numbers from the Modern Sounds collection. It’s an undeniably moving and satisfying experience, despite the feeling that you’re treading on the same ground twice. Somehow, the new arrangement of songs brings an enhanced emotional delivery. We have, possibly, the closest thing to a country album in Charles’ catalogue.

The final four tracks of the album are new to the package. “That Lucky Old Sun”, a pretty successful single from 1963, is a 1940s pop tune about toil and trouble, suffering and strife. It’s been covered by just about everyone under that ‘old sun’, from Frank Sinatra to Sam Cooke, Johnny Cash to Arethra Franklin, Tom Jones to Louis Armstrong. I haven’t heard many renditions, but I’d be shocked to hear one with as much raw emotional intensity, with as much soul, as the one Charles delivers.

Next is one of two non-ABC tracks in the collection. From 1983 to 1988, Charles released six albums on Columbia Records, of mainly country music. “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind” sold poorly as both single and album but allows us to experience Charles’ genius in another dimension; his take on 1980s countrypolitan, complete with slide guitar and polished production, is still as Ray Charles as ever.

But what we hear next is perhaps the most striking testament to his genius. Charles covered “Ring of Fire” on his 1970 album Love Country Style and, with help from an electric bass giving it a fully contemporary feel, he transforms the song from Johnny Cash’s country and Latin flavoured jaunt to a soul-funk groove packed with the raunchy, burning passion that the lyric demands.

The album concludes with a track from Charles’ 1984 Columbia album Friendship, consisting of country duets with names such as Hank Williams Jr., George Jones, Merle Haggard, and Johnny Cash. The album was a number one country hit, as was the single “Seven Spanish Angels”, featuring Willie Nelson. A heartbreaking story of a runaway and his lover trying to evade a gang of bounty-hunters, the two are shot dead and taken up to heaven by Seven Spanish Angels. Being both otherworldly and genuinely relatable in feeling, the ballad is taken to unbelievable heights by instrumentation, including steel guitar, Spanish guitar, harmonica, and trumpets. But what really delivers the knockout blow is Charles and Nelson trading verses, not as a competition, but in complementation of their equally unique but equally profound storytelling.

When listening to the compilation album, it’s hard to hold one’s emotions in check. Whether recorded in the early 1960s or the early 1980s, Charles delivers heart-wrenching renditions of stories of love and life, loss and loneliness. It’s certainly a well put together collection that is a truly moving listen. But it still feels like a missed opportunity. All but two of the tracks are featured on the 2021 Tangerine box set compilation True Genius, so the album could have been compiled as a streaming playlist if so desired. There are definite omissions that mean this package still fails to constitute Charles’ country work on ABC, let alone with other labels. The 1963 single “Busted”, from the same album as “That Lucky Old Sun” but more critically and commercially successful, should have been an instant inclusion. The 1970 album Love Country Style should have, one would imagine, enough country on it to be deemed worthy of this collection. But as the work that is included suggests, Charles’ output is far too varied to be neatly divided into genre or style.

Perhaps it is more prudent to simply listen; to not approach with prejudices and preconceptions. Instead of getting hung up on historical continuity or producing a complete catalogue, This Is Ray’s Country invites us to simply join Charles on his journey of storytelling, being taken to new depths of emotional connection the listener can reach through their shared humanity with the singer. And quite a good singer it is, too.

How does one judge a singer? My answer is this; do you believe them? Ray Charles is one of the best interpreters of song ever, part of an elite group including perhaps only two other names; Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. Whatever he sings, I believe him. I believe the fun he’s having on “Hey, Good Lookin'”, the unrequited love in “You Don't Know Me”, the desperation of “Born to Lose”, and the heartbreak on “Careless Love”.

I believe the elation he brings to “You Are My Sunshine”, the frustration of “Don’t Tell Me Your Troubles”, and the resignation in “Your Cheatin’ Heart”. I believe the anguishing lament of “Don’t Let Her Know” and the defiant optimism of “I Don’t Care”. I believe the surrender of “Crying Time”.

I believe that “Seven Spanish Angels” took another angel home.

The collection’s release announcement declared “Modern Country Starts Here”. I was hoping that a proper retrospective of Charles’ post-Atlantic catalogue would also be starting. Perhaps it will. But maybe that’s not the point. The package sees the Genius at work; an artist in full flow; and a man in full expression of what it means to be human. This is, perhaps, a far more significant outcome.

Earlier last year, Beyoncé released the staggering achievement Cowboy Carter to almost universal critical and commercial acclaim. The idea was to showcase the diverse listening experience of a girl raised in Texas. Her roots aren’t just R&B; there’s also country (and a ton of other stuff, too). Beyoncé didn’t just think outside the box; she smashed it smithereens. As the opening words of the track “SPAGHETTII” (read by Linda Martell, the first black woman to record country music) go;

“Genres are a funny little concept, aren’t they? Yes, they are. In theory, they have a simple definition that’s easy to understand. But in practice, well, some may feel confined.”

When Beyoncé dropped the first two singles of the album in February without warning, there was no indication from her or her label whether the songs were country, or not. Misguided by preconceptions of genre, Oklahoma country radio station KYKC didn’t realise the singles were value for their listeners, with the station manager responding to a request with “We do not play Beyoncé at KYKC as we are a country music station.”

Sound familiar?

This is Ray’s Country is available to purchase here