Ray Charles - Swiss Radio Days Vol. 41 - Zurich 1961

Pitchfork 90

All is not well with Ray Charles’ catalog nowadays. Digital retailers in the US can’t sell or stream the entirety of titles like Genius + Soul = Jazz. Same goes for both volumes of Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music. While the pianist, vocalist, and composer’s essential 1950s sessions for Atlantic Records remain in print, CD editions of his classic 1960s albums for ABC are only available on budget import labels. One exception to that rule—Concord’s five-CD box of the ABC singles, issued in 2011—has already been discontinued. This isn’t remotely fine. But until new distribution agreements are hammered out, that’s where the situation rests.

At least the general scarcity has a way of making a fresh discovery seem all the more exciting. Now, a new entry in the long-running “Swiss Radio Days” reissue series gives us Zurich 1961, a concert that certainly qualifies as thrilling. On this 79-minute gig, captured that year in a Swiss concert hall, Charles’ big band rips into a few tunes he’d already made popular, in addition to songs and arrangements crafted by a certain up-and-coming talent named Quincy Jones. (The two men met in their teens; Jones later gave Charles some arrangements that he’d already released on his own.)

Charles’ band begins this Zurich date with two Jones charts: “Happy Faces” (originally by Sonny Stitt) and then “Along Came Betty” (a Benny Golson composition). The opener leaps out with an urgency that stacks up well against Jones’ original version (as heard on The Birth of a Band LP). Charles isn’t audible on these first two performances, but his band delivers the hard-charging riffs and cooler, finger-snapping rhythms with regal confidence.

Charles’ composition “My Baby” follows, and the track serves as his formal introduction to the audience—as well as that of the Raelettes, a quartet of backup singers. As an ensemble within the larger group, the Raelettes provide suave harmonies and bluesy, solo exclamations. They offer swinging support behind Charles’ lead vocals during the uptempo “Sticks and Stones”—a cover that Charles found success with, two years prior. The only thing dragging this song down is the fact that the leader’s piano is mixed too low. As the crowd’s post-song applause dies away, you can hear a tense bit of chatter from Charles, addressed to an unidentified colleague, as the pianist slides into the introduction of “Georgia on My Mind.” (At one point, it sounds like he says, “I can’t hear, man; I told you.”)

The balance problems are fixed in a hurry. The subsequent performance of “Georgia” is a soulful revelation, as Charles stretches the tune to over six minutes, supported by bass and flute. He teases like hell with his vocal and piano lines, while David Newman’s flute pirouettes in a showier manner. At its close, the full band’s entrance makes for deliriously hot stuff. After you’ve heard this take, you might never need to hear the comparatively chaste studio version ever again.

The rest of the concert repeats this recipe: an extended jam that allows big band members to flex their soloing muscles, and doesn’t always feature direct involvement from Charles himself (including “Blue Stone,” written by Charles’ musical director, Hank Crawford.) Then he swoops in to make everything that much better, as you can hear on a strutting sequence that includes “Margie” and “Hit the Road Jack.”

By this point, all of Charles’s contributions are being mixed properly—and everything is coming up god-level. His high screams and gully-low growls cavort with barroom piano trills during “I’ve Got News for You.” The Raelettes outdo their past work with Charles on a shattering, occasionally hushed “I Believe to My Soul.” This version of “Come Rain or Come Shine,” in a modernized Jones arrangement, is another powerhouse that makes the canonic ‘50s studio reading seem bashful. The blending of styles is so transporting, it can be easy to neglect all that's going on—the flashes of R&B, soul-jazz, gospel, post-bop and blues that pull together. The result is some of the best American pop that’s ever been made. The way things have been going in the world of distribution, this CD will probably fall out of print in a few months. Sleep on it at your own risk.

Thu Dec 22 06:00:00 GMT 2016