Songs in the key of life
[Text for this essay is restricted.] It could be said that Ray Charles is soul music's heart and soul. Blinded by glaucoma at age 7, the piano man entered the St. Augustine School for the Deaf and the Blind in Florida, where he picked up a half-dozen instruments and learned to read and write music in Braille. He got his start backing up bluesman Lowell Fulson and singer Ruth Brown, then made music history with his 1954 recording "I Got a Woman." The song, marked by Charles's full-throated vocals and an infectious electric piano line, was a revolutionary hybrid of blues and gospel. It shot to No. 2 on the R&B charts, opening the pop music world to a generation of soul performers that included James Brown and Sam Cooke.
In the nearly half century since, Charles has released more than 100 records, collecting 12 Grammy Awards along the way. At 71, he continues to tour and make albums. In this essay for U.S. News, Charles reflects on his life in American song.
[Text for this essay is restricted.] DUKE ELLINGTON SAID IT best: There are only two kinds of music, good and bad. And you can tell when something is good. When you have a good song, it will be beautiful even when it's sung by somebody with a bad voice. Of course, a fantastic vocalist can make a huge difference.
Me, I love the old writers who wrote beautiful love songs. I came up on those songs, but I have just as much love for blues and jazz, too. I was raised in the church and was around blues and Muddy Waters and Big Joe Turner and Howlin' Wolf. I would hear all these musicians on the jukebox, and then I'd go to revival meetings on Sunday mornings. So I would get both sides of music. A lot of people at the time thought what I was doing was sacrilegious, but I was singing the way I felt. Music always reflects the culture, and is often ahead of the times.
For many years, I used to try to emulate Nat King Cole. I loved him so much, I used to dream, eat, and drink Nat Cole. And I became pretty good at it. In fact, I could get jobs because I could sound like Nat Cole. Then I finally remembered my mom's words. She told me, "You know, boy, you gotta be yourself. Learn to be yourself."
In my career, throughout my life, I never thought about becoming famous. It never entered my mind. I was so much into the music, all I wanted to do was to be good. Because I was around other musicians who were good, I wanted to be as good as they were. I think that passion might be missing in some of the formula groups you see being processed today.
Fads come and go, but the song, man, the song is forever. In music, you can't escape when something is beautiful. You can't get away from a good song: Anything by Hoagy Carmichael, Nat King Cole, or by my friends Willie Nelson or Quincy Jones. There's a song on my new album called "Mother." We played that song at a meeting, and grown people--seasoned record company people--just started crying. That caught me off guard because these were some hard-nosed people, and they just don't cry over anything. That's the effect a real soul singer has. Although a song can stand on its own, there are performers and there are artists. Aretha Franklin. Gladys Knight. Stevie Wonder. When you hear them, they make you feel something.
This story appears in the July 8, 2002 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.