Every so often an artist arrives on the scene, a visionary who is so revolutionary through his accomplishments, that he has either changed the face of modern music or even created his own novel art form. Muddy Waters succeeded in taking acoustic blues born of poverty out of the cotton fields, electrifying it in an urban setting, and making it a commercially viable entity which would become the source of infinite inspiration to not only generations of rock and rollers but also future heavy metal exponents like Led Zeppelin and their descendants. Ostensibly ascribing to a suggestion by mentor Sam Phillips of Sun records in Memphis, Elvis Presley was able to sing an amalgam of blues and C&W and thus concoct rockabilly and rock and roll which would take the nation by storm in the 50s. Within the domain of jazz music, who could argue that talents like trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie and alto Charlie Parker, each endowed with extraordinary inventive prowess to turn mundane big band melodies inside out, did not co-found the bebop movement in the early 40s? And there were many more such larger than life individuals who made such an impact on the course of music and some yet to be discovered like perhaps a Frank Zappa, who as a technological wizard was seeking at his death to mix elements of rock, blues, and classical music (some atonal) into an avant-garde oeuvre to be taken seriously by his reviewers. But last and certainly not least in the history of popular music in the latter half of the 20th Century was the imposing figure of Ray Charles, who died this past June 11 of liver failure. Who could ignore his achievement of borrowing music from the religious realm, thoroughly secularizing it, and in the process developing a whole new designation - soul music. If anyone deserved the title of legend, it was he.
 
It is certainly beyond the scope of this article to attempt a thorough accounting of his life, as volumes can be (and have been) written. Ironically, at his death, a biopic by director Taylor Hackford, Ray, starring Jamie Foxx, was on the verge of release and is currently making the rounds at first-run theatres. It portrays him quite accurately and pulls no punches, presenting him warts and all. Far from a choir boy, he was a notorious philanderer, a penurious band leader, and inveterate heroin abuser even during the most creative, middle portion of his career. Yet, when I think of him, I only remember the title of a 1959 Atlantic records album release, The Genius of Ray Charles, which always shined through no matter with which personal demons he was struggling at the time, although I had to admit that it made me cringe to watch him relegated to the role of a buffoonish television pitch man, particularly a purveyor of Diet Pepsi in the latter stages of his musical life - “You’ve got the right one baby, uh huh.”

For genius he was. And musically, he could do it all. Not only was he a singer, renowned for his impassioned, pleading, and soaring vocals, he was also a writer, arranger, and player who was chameleon-like, comfortable with and conversant in all classifications of music - C&W, rock and roll, soul, R&B, gospel and pop. Considerably underrated as a pianist/ organist, he was in reality a virtuoso. And one needs only to hear his 1961 rendition of the Clovers’ “One Mint Julep,” his big instrumental hit on Impulse records, to fully appreciate his ear for jazz. Indeed, in his early years, often accompanied by bassist, Oscar Pettiford, alto Hank Crawford, and tenor David “Fathead” Newman, he could also have become a superstar in this improvisational sphere, had he chosen to thus limit himself.
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