Chicapah As primitive as studio environment recording technology still was in the late 50s (relative to today’s standards, at least) taping music in a live setting was downright archaic. That’s why so few of the in-concert albums released before the game-changing innovations in aural science were inaugurated in the 60s (making such a thing practical) are worth listening to. In the rare instances that an on-stage record was above average in sound quality it was due more often than not to a deity-ordained stroke of dumb luck and atmospheric conditions that were absolutely perfect for one solitary microphone to capture a decent mix of instrumentation. Evidently that’s what happened on May 28th, 1959 when Ray Charles and his band played at Herndon Stadium in Atlanta, Georgia.

The occasion was the 5th anniversary of radio station WAOK and Ray was just one of many stars who were asked to perform. Ruth Brown, Roy Hamilton, The Drifters, Huey Smith and the Clowns, Jimmy Reed, B.B. King and Buddy Johnson were also on the bill. As is usually the case with outdoor extravaganzas, it rained cats and dogs and the enormous crowd that had been anticipated dwindled to around nine thousand because of the weather. Yet those hardy souls who endured the elements were treated to what was said to be a stellar day of music and by the time Charles and his ensemble took the stage the mood-killing precipitation had ceased to be a threat. According to the liner notes a single mike was set up on a stand 100 feet from the front of the platform and the tiny reel-to-reel tape deck it was attached to was dutifully placed in record mode. The result is a journey back in time before elaborate, efficient public address systems were even dreamed of coming into existence and the distance between an artist and his audience was kept to a minimum out of sheer necessity. However, this is no novelty album to be admired because it’s “quaint.” The quality of the musicianship and the energized response of those in attendance one can noticeably detect in the background make this a special album, indeed.

Starting off with “The Right Time,” what jumps right out at you is Ray’s incredible voice. It’s flat-out amazing and this blues standard never sounded as good as it does here because of it. Marjorie Hendricks steps up in the middle segment and conveys true, sassy anger in her singing but she’s no match for Ray’s soaring, in-his-prime chops. They don’t skip a beat in leaping right into the inimitable beginning of his huge hit, “What’d I Say,” and you can sense the excitement rising in the gathering up until the moment Charles’s inimitable vocal cuts through the tension like a samurai sword. The playful exchanges that take place between him and the Raylettes are fantastic and the crowd responds accordingly. “Yes Indeed” is an up-tempo shuffle with a hint of gospel tossed in. David Newman’s tenor saxophone solo is sharp and clear. Ray and his talented group then present a great rendition of Milt Jackson’s jazz classic, “The Spirit Feel.” On this instrumental everyone in the horn section gets a chance to shine in the spotlight and you get the sensation that this is the song they looked forward to performing at every gig.

An unusual intro graces “Frenesi,” an instrumental tune by Alberto Dominguez that sports a cool, slinky Bossa Nova rhythm slithering underneath an intriguing melody. Once again the saxophones and trumpets take turns in making strong personal statements. The apex of the proceedings just may be their inspired take on “Drown In My Own Tears.” They lay down a smooth, slow-as-dripping-molasses groove for this big band version of a revered blues mainstay. The tightness of the group shows off their professionalism and experience while Charles delivers a devastating vocal performance that sends the audience into a frenzy. When the Raylettes appear towards the end of the number it’s akin to a visitation by the angels. The album closes with the infectious R&B rhythm of “Tell The Truth.” Marjorie takes over the lead singing duties for this one and, while she’s nothing extraordinary, the track is worth sitting through just to hear Ray whoop and holler with abandon in the late goings. Let’s just say that James Brown had nothin’ on this cat!

The crowd reportedly stood on its feet and screamed for an encore for ten minutes after Charles bid them “adios” but other acts were waiting to go on and Ray declined to return to the stage in deference to them. I don’t doubt for a second that he left ‘em begging for more, though. I can only imagine how exhilarating one of his shows was back then and, thanks to fortune smiling on mankind that night in ’59, we can catch a glimpse of the magic spell he could almost effortlessly weave for his legion of fans. Ray Charles was swinging the world by the tail in that era and there was no stopping him. Check it out.