Chicapah The impact that the great Ray Charles had on music in the 60s is immeasurable. He did more to break down barriers between blacks and whites through the unbiased power of music than all of the brave freedom riders put together. His stubborn determination in refusing to limit himself to any particular genre (as exemplified by his groundbreaking album “Modern Sounds in Country & Western Music”) opened countless doors that might’ve remained closed for several more years if it wasn’t for his taking such a risky, courageous stance. But the 70s weren’t as good to Ray. Aural artists of all races and creeds sped around him and through the very breaches in the walls that he helped to make possible. In retrospect Charles wasn’t so much an innovator as he was a fearless pioneer so while the likes of Stevie Wonder and Miles Davis used advances in sound technology to expand the horizons of what was possible Ray was figuratively left behind in their wake. In a way he was like Moses in that he proved to his brothers and sisters they could (and had every right to) live and thrive in the promise land of unlimited opportunity while he himself could only gaze upon it from the mountain top.

I was always more of an admirer of Ray Charles than a dedicated fan so when he disappeared from the spotlight in the early 70s I can’t say that I noticed or rued his absence. He was too young to be regarded as an iconic relic but too old to be considered relevant. In the 80s he would start to be viewed as a national treasure and be deservedly honored for his vast contributions to society and the music industry as a whole but until then he’d sadly become more of a follower than a leader. I sense that he was trying to figure out where and how he and his craft fit into the wild, ever-changing musical climate that was the 70s and “Brother Ray is At It Again!” is quite representative of that struggle. Being included in the cast of “The Blues Brothers” movie gave him a boost of much-needed exposure and that impressive cameo may have led me to consider this record in 1980. I was also curious as to how he would interpret two songs I was partial to so I took the big chance and brought this one home without hearing it.

Gene McDaniels’ “Compared to What” has always been one of my favorite tunes and Ray begins the disc with his own version. The disheartening disco rhythm he attaches to it is extremely unnerving and disappointing at first but its tight stops and his inimitable, one-of-a-kind voice goes a long way in making it somewhat palatable. There’s no listing of the studio cats that played on the sessions but the guitar and synth work are surprisingly exciting as they add a bit of pizzazz to what could’ve been an absolute travesty. The better cuts on the album are next and “Any Way You Want To” arrives first. It has a slow, funky groove and the number excels on many levels ranging from the female chorale to the subdued horns to the sprightly synthesizer solo. Ray’s vocal is as strong and confident as ever. “Don’t You Love Me Anymore?” is a fine contemporary ballad in which Charles brightens the mood with some of his trademark blues-styled singing to keep it from becoming too mushy. The flugelhorn ride is exquisite and is backed by a lush string section. “A Poor Man’s Song” follows but it signals a downturn in the proceedings. Yet another lame disco beat pulses underneath it but at least he doesn’t get lazy and let it run on and on interminably. Crisp horns embellish Mike Paul’s perky arrangement but they’re not enough to pull this tune from the pit of mediocrity.

“Now That We’ve Found Each Other” has a too-smooth AOR flow going on for me to fully endorse it but I can say that it’s pleasant enough for a basic love song. Other than an energized horn arrangement there’s not much to write home about, though. The other tune that I bought the LP for is The Band’s fun “Ophelia.” I thought this would be right up Charles’ alley but he makes the fatal mistakes of rushing it horribly and stupidly trying to turn it into a disco dance track. By 1980 that overdone, mind-numbing trend was finally falling from grace with the public but Ray didn’t get the memo, evidently, so it only further shows how far he was lagging behind the times. Somebody laid down some cool slide guitar but that’s the only upside I can find to report. “I Can’t Change It” is a bluesy thing delivered with a gospel feel, bolstered by a large chorale and some clever synth lines. Still, there’s an unsettling atmosphere hovering about it that emanates from it sounding like he was forcing the issue. Charles wrote the closer, “Questions,” and it’s a case of light funk interacting with a heavy dose of modern day blues. Ray has a touch of anger and a bitter, sarcastic attitude residing in his voice as he vents his unbridled complaints about the sorry state society was in and it’s refreshingly invigorating. The song isn’t much, musically speaking, but his fiery vocal is worth a listen or two.

From scanning over his lengthy discography it becomes clear that throughout his long life he continued to record incessantly and never lost his zeal for making music. The problem is that the majority of it was predictably safe and too much of it was pedestrian at best. Don’t get me wrong. I would never disparage Ray Charles or play down his immense talent and importance but I would be less than responsible if I didn’t warn you of what you might discover should you invest in some of the albums he made after the 60s were over. This record’s title of “Brother Ray is At It Again!” is appropriate but they should’ve added the subtitle of “…and it’s more of the same old stuff.” This is not how I choose to remember his legend or his legacy.