Ray Charles and Me: Rock & Roll Memories

Posted: February 23rd, 2026 | Filed under: Culture, JazzFest, Rock & Roll Rewind | 3 Comments »

The story’s been told before.

But it’s my favorite about Ray Charles and me.

The time I didn’t hear him when I intended to. At JazzFest.

As I’ve written many times over, one of the cool daily rituals during Fest has been the krewe gathering in the evening for some sumptuous meal, pulling out our cubes from the day and playing a friendly battle rock & roll one upsmanship.

How each of us would lord over the other some band we heard the others didn’t. How much they missed. Knowing of course they were hearing something just as special.

So that night when I’m looking at my schedule, marked with whom I heard and whom I intended to, I broke out laughing. and couldn’t stop.

My companions looked at me quizzically, as if to say, “Whaaaaaa?”

“Oh, nothing much. I blew off Ray Charles today. Didn’t realize it until now.”

Fortunately, I had heard him other times. Including another time at JF, if memory serves.

 * * * *

I was in high school the first time I heard him live.

The circumstances of the evening are more memorable than the actual show.

It was at Louisville Gardens, which may still have been the Jefferson County Armory.

I remember whom I had a date with.

Most of all I remember that Ray Charles and his entourage were very very very late. Promoters kept coming out and advising that his bus had broken down somewhere along the way, but he would make it for the show.

Which meant that this portly high schooler, with scant social skills on a first date, had to make small talk for a long time. Painful. Plus we had to go use the pay phone in the lobby to call our parents to see if it was OK to stay?

Charles did show. But I truly can’t remember whether he was good or not, though I’m sure, iconic as he was (and remains) I was entranced.

 * * * * *

A somewhat staid version of “What I Say” was a Top 40 hit.

The take I’ve always cherished, from a live LP which I had, chronicles — so I recall — the first time he ever played the tune live in Atlanta in his home state of Georgia. It was at some radio station sponsored show outdoors.

Here it is, though the crowd reaction is not mixed as loudly as the album.

Stay with it to the end, when the show’s MC is so pumped he jumps on stage to herald Charles in the middle of the set.

 * * * * *

I do distinctly remember the great show Charles put on one year at those summer festivals they had at Riverfront Stadium. Produced by George Wein, the lineups were always eclectic. Mixing such as Billy Eckstine, Stevie Wonder and Rashaan Roland Kirk* on the same bill.

*An aside. Wein always ran a tight ship. Or tried to. Each artist had an allotted time, and the impresario would announce them off stage when their time was up. Kirk would have none of it. At 40 minutes he was just getting warmed up. Wein kept trying to announce him off the state. “Rashaan Roland Kirk, how about it, let’s hear it for him . . . ” Wein gave up. Kirk kept playing. For another half hour until he was ready to exit.

Anyhow, the night I heard Ray Charles there, he did an effecting version of  the Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby.” Here’s a live video from ’73, which would be about when I heard him in Cincy.

 * * * * *

A seminal moment in evolution of pop music arrived in ’62, when Charles, whom some called the first soul singer* recorded an orchestral infused group of country and western classics.

*Meaning really, the first rhythm and blues artist to break through to a big Caucasian audience. Obviously he was far from the first soul singer. Or first one to break through. Which designation is hotly debated. Sam Cooke for one gets a lot of nods.

 * * * * *

Finally, here’s Charles with an incendiary version of “The Night Time is the Right Time” with Marjorie Hendricks wailing on vocals. (Warning the video is somewhat pixelated. The music is not.)

This was always one of my favorite Charles songs, used to great effect in a movie.

In Marting Scorcese’s portion of the directorial tryptych “New York Stories,” Nick Nolte plays an artist obsessed with his young assistant, Rosanna Arquette. She’s his muse, but she wants out.

When she finally escapes, Nolte needs to paint away his emotions. Before putting paint to canvas, he jams a cassette into the box with this song.

—  c d kaplan

 

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