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The rain has stopped. Night is full of things; the familiar stars of June, the trees that catch their faint light, the damp lawn where crickets chirp, the pavement that sounds softly to the fall of my steps. The light of the waning moon falls there too, and I walk to where my shadow appears, and follow it along the pale path a for while. The fronts of houses glow dimly where they are not shadowed by trees, and are silent. No one peers from their windows. The street is best at night, when I have it to myself. Newspapers have already been delivered, and lie in the darkness, their dark words indistinguishable from the night. No one will pass this way now until dawn, when the early risers come out to fetch the damp journals. I hear a single drop of water fall from a tree and make a soft splat on a lawn. Until the first bird chirps, there is no more news.
Jun. 10th, 2004
Genius Hits the Road
Jun. 10th, 2004 08:47 pmIf I'd been making bets on which celebrities would die this year, Ray Charles would not have been on the short list. The last time I saw him on television he appeared as youthfully energetic as ever, despite his gray hair. If anyone was indestructible, I'd have thought it was him.
The first Ray Charles records I heard were those produced early in his career by R&B tycoons Ahmet Ertegun and Jerry Wexler. His tracks, such as I Got a Woman, Drown in My Own Tears, and What'd I Say were among my favorite creations of the genre. So complete was his mastery of R&B, and so closely did I associate him with the style, that I was surprised when I first heard his recording of Joe Greene's bluesy Don't Let the Sun Catch You Cryin', with its full orchestration and a backup chrous of very white voices. Then I heard his later recording of Don Gibson's country ballad I Can't Stop Loving You, and was even more amazed. Throughout his career, he was able to capture the essence of any genre of music he chose to play, while making it his own. The guy owned music.
In the years when jukeboxes were a common appurtenance of every sort of eating or drinking establishment, one could count on even the most appalling collections of bad music which often filled these devices in out-of-the-way truck stops or greasy spoon diners or hillbilly bars would be augmented by at least one or two Ray Charles records. His music redeemed more than a few hours in such places for me, even as his evocative phrasing and subtle, supple piano style redeemed many commonplace pop songs and raised them into the realm of art. Yes Indeed!
Ray Charles
1930-2004
The first Ray Charles records I heard were those produced early in his career by R&B tycoons Ahmet Ertegun and Jerry Wexler. His tracks, such as I Got a Woman, Drown in My Own Tears, and What'd I Say were among my favorite creations of the genre. So complete was his mastery of R&B, and so closely did I associate him with the style, that I was surprised when I first heard his recording of Joe Greene's bluesy Don't Let the Sun Catch You Cryin', with its full orchestration and a backup chrous of very white voices. Then I heard his later recording of Don Gibson's country ballad I Can't Stop Loving You, and was even more amazed. Throughout his career, he was able to capture the essence of any genre of music he chose to play, while making it his own. The guy owned music.
In the years when jukeboxes were a common appurtenance of every sort of eating or drinking establishment, one could count on even the most appalling collections of bad music which often filled these devices in out-of-the-way truck stops or greasy spoon diners or hillbilly bars would be augmented by at least one or two Ray Charles records. His music redeemed more than a few hours in such places for me, even as his evocative phrasing and subtle, supple piano style redeemed many commonplace pop songs and raised them into the realm of art. Yes Indeed!
1930-2004