Chicapah I once saw an interview with the accomplished actor Morgan Freeman in which he expressed how much he disliked being referred to as a black actor. “I’m an actor,” he stated flatly. In the same vein, if Ray Charles was still with us I expect that he’d prefer not to be revered as a blind, black musician but simply as “a musician” in the broadest and most respectful sense of the term. Yet his importance can’t be overstated. Beginning his career in the midst of an era when the color barrier in America was still as strong as steel he played a big part in punching some sizeable holes in that wall simply by carrying on as if it didn’t exist. He refused to be quarantined in any particular niche of music and certainly didn’t limit himself to just being a soulful R&B singer. This is especially remarkable considering he’d just set the world on fire with his first big hit tune, “What’d I Say,” as the revolutionary 60s started up. His new, game-changing contract with ABC-Paramount records had granted him unparalleled artistic freedom and he wasn’t about to squander the opportunities it afforded him. “Genius + Soul = Jazz” offers proof positive that he felt he could successfully do any style he felt a passion for because most of the songs included are jazzy instrumentals. The man was a phenomenon. And he was fearless.

In December of 1960 Ray went into the studio with a slew of musicians borrowed from Count Basie’s renowned ensemble and, along with the experienced arranger Ralph Burns as well as the heralded up-and-comer Quincy Jones, knocked out a host of dynamite songs that featured him comfortably seated in front of the incomparable Hammond organ. I guarantee that if you’re even a casual fan of big band jazz you’d be doing yourself a huge favor by acquiring a copy of these sessions. What these tunes lack in technical proficiency they more than make up for in unbridled excitement and raw enthusiasm. If you didn’t know Mr. Charles had this side to him then I urge you to explore “Genius + Soul = Jazz” ASAP. It’s quite unique and a hell of an entertaining listen.

Ray comes out with guns ‘a blazin’ for his cover of “From the Heart.” It’s an excellent, aggressive jazz orchestra performance that lets the budding prodigy (Charles was but 22 years old at the time) show off his skills on the mighty B3. He was no stranger to its aural charms, so it seems. This album is not without a few vocal numbers and their bawdy rendition of the blues standard “I’ve Got News for You” is priceless. Ray belts out this classic as well as anyone ever has and the bold horn section kills without remorse. They follow with a strong, in-your-face version of “Moanin’” and then spring into “Let’s Go,” an energy-filled number possessing tightly-knit horn harmonies and a handful of blistering solos from selected boys in the band. The light Bossa Nova rhythm they build “One Mint Julep” upon provides a nice change-of-pace and I always love it when the hired help gets to vocalize en masse as they do from time to time here. Charles mans the microphone once again for “I’m Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town” and his young, unfettered voice is impeccable as he fronts this devastatingly great and confident collection of seasoned professionals. Ray’s organ solo sizzles and pops like bacon grease frying in a hot cast iron skillet.

A traditional big band groove propels “Stompin’ Room Only” gracefully through a series of ascending key changes that hoist your mood up along for the climb. A walking bass line pushes “Mister C” relentlessly and the brazen brass arrangement is loud and sassy. “Strike Up the Band” is more high-quality stuff. They just don’t put ‘em together like this anymore, ya know? They take a much more subtle approach for “Birth of the Blues” and you’ll be mesmerized by the lazy momentum that lopes underneath the lush horns. This repackaged CD also includes several vocal pieces from that same era of Charles’ distinguished career, starting with his gruff but delightfully jazzy cover of “Alabamy Bound.” For “Basin Street Blues” Ray slides over to his trusty piano and does the old gem true justice. The disc ends with “New York’s My Home” where his playful, conversational vocal breakdowns showcase Charles’ uncanny phrasing and God-given technique to the max. It’s not to be missed.

In various biographies it’s been documented that during this period Ray was intent on further exploring his interpretative side by taking on some of the recognized chestnuts of big band jazz music and adding his own personal twist to them. As good a bandleader as he turned out to be, I can’t say enough about the crackerjack arrangements scored by Burns and Jones, though. The blasts jump right out of the speakers at you and make you feel like you’re right there in the cozy studio with the fellas. The release of the original LP didn’t exactly set the world ablaze but I’m sure that Charles didn’t mind for he didn’t do it for the moolah it would bring in. He did it because he had no doubt it would be worthwhile and, more importantly, because he could.