Review: Ray Charles - Ray Charles And Betty Carter (1961)

Tracks: 1) Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye; 2) You And I; 3) Goodbye/We’ll Be Together Again; 4) People Will Say We’re In Love; 5) Cocktails For Two; 6) Side By Side; 7) Baby, It’s Cold Outside; 8) Together; 9) For All We Know; 10) Takes Two To Tango; 11) Alone Together; 12) Just You, Just Me.

REVIEW

ABC Records picked up Betty Carter, who had already made a solid name for herself ever since joining Lionel Hampton’s band back in 1948, some time around 1960, and she and Ray actually ended up sharing the same concert bill, so it was only a matter of time before some­body came up with the idea of pairing two of ABC’s most renown artists on the same record. The idea was probably to try to emulate the tremendous success of the three records that Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald recorded in the late Fifties — after all, the reverence for Ray Charles’ voice was hardly any less than for Louis, and Betty was considered to be a more «modern» type of jazz vocalist than Ella (her 1960 album was proudly titled The Modern Sound Of Betty Carter), so how could this fail?

Yet fail it did. Released in August 1961, the LP stalled on the charts, not even making it into the Top 50, despite all of Ray’s previous jazz albums from the same year charting quite imposingly high. To remedy this situation, ABC put out the duo’s recording of ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ as a single for the Christmas season — and despite predictably heavy radio rotation, it barely cracked the Top 100. (Some sources, including the album’s Wikipedia page, parrot the strange info that ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ had topped the R&B charts — but I can find no confirmation of this on any list of chart-topping R&B singles from either 1961 or 1962, and, frankly, given how thoroughly «pop» the song is, it’s downright impossible to believe that it might have properly registered on the R&B market). Certainly compared to Ray’s chart-smashing singles from the same time such as ‘Hit The Road, Jack’ and ‘Unchain My Heart’, Ray Charles And Betty Carter was a commercial disaster — and, honestly, I don’t see any critical rush today to remedy that assessment.

First and foremost, there is the problem of musical arrangement. An album like Ella And Louis, no matter how fantastic the vocal parts are, could never yield the same feeling of class and taste without relying on its small jazz combo, in which every single musician was a genius in his own right (Oscar Peterson! Herb Ellis! Buddy Rich!) and Louis’ own trumpet was the principal instrumental counterpart to the voices. Contrast this with Marty Paich’s orchestral arrangements, drowning the singers in the usual syrupy violins, angelic harps, gospel choirs, and Vegas-y brass — everything perfectly professional, unbearably predictable, and completely devoid of individuality. With this kind of backdrop, a song like ‘Cocktails For Two’, at best, brings on visions of a generic Fifties’ TV commercial, «for the perfect family». I wish there’d been at least one song on the record to shed the black suits and ties and evening cocktail dresses, but no. No luck.

Second, there is the issue of Betty Carter herself. Respected as one of the most versatile and innovative jazz singers of her generation, she was indeed able of sounding «modern» as heck even on her earliest records (she "...took extreme rhythmic liberties with her material, sometimes offering such arcane reinterpretations of standards that one is tempted to include her among the jazz avant-garde", according to Ted Gioia). But while her singing on these numbers is certainly far more individualistic and striking than the musical accompaniment, the emphasis here is not on anything even remotely arcane in nature. Instead, Betty sounds like a bit of a cross between Billie Holiday and Nina Simone (the latter in her «romantic» rather than «martial» mood), combining the thin, high-pitched fragility of the former with the moodiness of the latter, but somehow ending without the deep humanity of either. The effect is unfortunate, at least to my ears: I can admire the technical aspects of her singing, but remain completely unmoved by the tone and modulation.

Whether she has any genuine «chemistry» with Ray’s voice is up to subjective debate; personally, I’m not even sure what sort of male singing style would go well hand-in-hand with Betty’s «cats-on-methadone» approach. Ray, as usual, feels comfortable, safe, and (more often than not) boring in his role of lazy, languid, suave high-society lover, but Betty seems to be vacillating between the roles of «starry-eyed innocent victim» and «strong-willed independent lady», and I hardly ever get the feeling that the two are truly engaged in some sort of artistic dialog where they’d recognize and play off each other — not even on the above-mentioned ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’, which, of course, barely makes any sense if the singers are singing as if they have no business truly hearing one another.

Speaking of ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’, I am not sufficiently familiar with the history of the song’s innumerable recordings to know if the «menacing» brass & piano opening theme to the song (later reprised a couple of times to spice up the mood) was specifically invented for this recording or not. Strange enough, with this little touch the song is introduced as if it were some creepy-ominous R&B anthem from Big Bad Ray — before subsiding, ten seconds later, into the tune’s familiar and relaxing Christmas vibe. Ironically, this decision somehow ends up being in tune with the modern-day intepretation of the song as a predatory anthem (and who knows how Uncle Ray himself interpreted his character?), but most importantly, it is at least a bit of an experimental and intriguing approach to the song’s presentation, which is more than I could say about any other number on here.

Perhaps it’s all much simpler than what I am talking about and the record is just way too happy and fluffy for my taste; surely a little bit of heartbreak and pain couldn’t hurt when it came to selecting the program, because the endless stream of purry, lovey-dovey numbers could easily cause diabetes in those with weak immune systems. But then again, Ella And Louis was hardly a downer, either; there certainly are ways to express happiness that feel genuine and natural, and do not require the use of romantic strings and harps or nostalgic singing styles hearkening back to the Golden Age of Radio. Worst of all, I believe that there may have been quite a few ways to ignite a properly exciting flame between Ray Charles, the master of soulful yearning, and Betty Carter, the queen of scat singing, but none of them were explored. Consequently, Ray Charles And Betty Carter may only be recommended if you plan upon throwing a really old-fashioned Christmas party, tuxedos and bow ties required and all.

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