Of all the major musical genres, country music probably has the most embarrassingly and intentionally whitewashed history. It’s no secret that country remains largely segregated, and though it’s finally becoming more diverse—especially through its more progressive, harder-to-define cousin, Americana—it is still nearly impossible for an artist to have mainstream success in country unless they are white and straight.

The most notable exception to this, as any country fan knows, is the trailblazing Charley Pride, a black singer who would sell over 70 million records and chart 29 No. 1 country hits—an astonishing number that currently places him as having the sixth most number 1’s ever (just above Alan Jackson at 26 and Alabama at 33). Pride’s status as a country music icon is the exception that proves the greater problem. Charley managed to become undeniable, but almost no other black artists have been able to penetrate the genre in a similar way (the closest would be Darius Rucker, who currently has charted 10 No. 1 country hits). It wasn’t even until this week that the No. 1 country song was written solely by a black woman. The song is “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman, as faithfully reinterpreted by Luke Combs, who is a white man.

It’s a perplexing situation, considering country music’s origins as “hillbilly music” in America was created by immigrants from around the world finding ways to combine the sounds of their homelands’ instruments. (For example, the banjo is from Africa, and the steel guitar is from Hawaii). And while their influence is often overlooked, black musicians have had a significant impact on defining the sound of country music as we know it. From Jimmie Rodgers, the first big hillbilly music star, taking influence from black bluesmen and jug bands, to Lesley Riddle, who would would teach The Carter Family how to play un-copywritten songs, so that they could rewrite and record them, which helped the family become one of the earliest and most influential country acts of all time. 

Almost a century later, music has changed in more ways than we can count, but white country stars are still profiting off the influence of black music—specifically the blatant borrowing of hip-hop beats and vocal styles—as often seen through successful yet unsavory vessels such as Jason Aldean and Morgan Wallen. (The latter famously was caught using racial slurs on camera, and—hopefully unrelated—also currently holds the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100.)

Anyone with more than a surface-level understanding of country music will tell you that the industry’s historic racial divide was manufactured early on, and the lack of diversity amongst the genre’s charting stars has never correlated to its fanbase, which is actually much more diverse. This fanbase would include Ray Charles, who loved listening to hillbilly music on the radio growing up, and was even quoted, “You take country music, you take black music, you got the same goddam thing exactly.” 

Ray Charles proved this sentiment by releasing two volumes of country covers in 1962, challenging the established racial barriers in music at the peak of the Civil Rights Movement. The classic country standards were reinterpreted in Charles’ own style, combining pop, jazz, soul, and blues with tinges of gospel and country. The first volume, titled Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, was an instant hit on country and R&B charts, and became not only one of the best-selling albums by a black artist, but one of the best-selling country albums at the time. Modern Sounds volumes 1 and 2 are often considered among the greatest albums of all time of any genre, and it continues to have an influence on country music culture—for example, the title of Sturgill Simpson’s fantastic 2014 album, Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, pays homage to Ray’s iconic work.

Willie Nelson, who at almost 100 studio albums has done more for the country genre than almost anyone, even said that Modern Sounds, “did more for country music than any one artist has ever done.”

And now that we’ve set the stage with an all-time great album: it’s time to get into Ray Charles’ less-remembered and objectively worse country album, released 22 years later. 

1984’s Friendship, is many things. First and foremost, it’s a missed opportunity to name an album Moderner Sounds in Country and Western Music. It is also an album that benefits from being two decades removed from Modern Sounds, because that album was a game changer, and this album simply is not. But also Charles isn’t attempting to repeat what he accomplished in the early 60’s. Instead of reinterpreting country into his own style, this time Charles jumps into the radio country sounds of the time with both feet, cowboy boots and all. This LP is also a duet album, which is an extremely country thing to do.

The Ray Charles voice we’ve known and loved for decades is still solid here, but he’s decided to share the spotlight with country stars new and old, plus BJ “Hooked on a Feeling” Thomas, for some reason. I suspect this is to give Charles some cred with the modern mid-1980’s country listener, who may not have be old enough to remember his last venture into the notoriously exclusive genre. Yes, I imagine it is because Charles wants this country album to be taken seriously, which is interesting because so many of the tracks are basically novelty songs.

Ray Charles and his singing partners often play themselves in the songs on Friendship, and even refer to each other by their names. They toss out little asides and you can hear them winking at the camera, so to speak. I’m going to call this characterized Ray Charles “Ray the Rascal,” because he’s goofin’, schemin’, and getting hammered with George Jones.

Ray the Rascal kicks off the album with outlaw Nepo Baby Hank Williams Jr. on “Two Old Cats Like Us,” a feline-themed boogie-woogie number, complete with a sax solo. It accurately conveys the album’s overall tone, but isn’t a particularly good song. Ray spends track two singing some high-speed Southern Baptist gospel with The Oak Ridge Boys. It’s a pretty fun hand-clapper, but then Ray struts out of the church and right into the bar, where he once again becomes The Rascal, and grabs a drink with the Possum.

Friendship’s third song is “We Didn’t See A Thing,” featuring country legends George Jones on vocals and Chet Atkins on guitar. I would argue this is a standout track on the album because it is catchy as hell, but also because it is a truly crazy premise: Ray and George are pals that help each other cheat on their spouses by insisting that they “didn’t see a thing,” even though they are both present for all the indiscretions. Cheatin’ songs are common in country music, but what makes this song different is that Ray Charles is, of course, actually blind. And because of the way this song is delivered, there is just simply no way the song isn’t a joke about Ray Charles’ literal inability to “see a thing.” And I’m not saying that’s necessarily offensive or bad (obviously Ray liked it), but it is a pretty bold choice.

The next track is the lone male-female duet: “Who Cares” featuring 80’s country star Janie Fricke. It’s a classic bittersweet love song, full of the kind of snark that makes us love other duet acts like Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty. (Though this song is far from being Loretta/Conway-level, apologies to Ray and Janie.)

The title track is a duet with Ricky Skaggs, penned by composer Cole Porter, and is full of little punchlines and silly ways to pronounce the word “forgot.” It feels like Ray and producer Billy Sherrill might’ve included this song in order to tie together the whole duet concept, and less because it’s actually good. That being said, it is not necessarily any worse than the other two appearances of Ray the Rascal.

We’re now more than halfway through the album, and Friendship is, if nothing else, living up to its name. Most of the duets are meant to convey the notion that these two singers are longtime friends. Though I’m not getting a lot of genuine chemistry—more like a rehearsed duo comedy act. It’s less Willie & Waylon and more Statler & Waldorf. 

In the back half of the album Charles is joined by country’s elder statesmen—Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, and Willie Nelson. Outlaws musically and literally. The Rascal sheds his kitsch and sings more serious songs about age and loneliness. The songs with Merle and Cash are truly, undeniably FINE. Nice, inoffensive, and frankly unmemorable. 

And then there’s the Willie Nelson duet, the album’s hit song “Seven Spanish Angels.” This song is different than the rest—novelty is traded for the story of two outlaw lovers trying (and failing—spoiler!) to outrun a posse; the instrumentation beautifully combines Tejano music, country, and gospel. And, simply put, it’s just a better song than the others, even though it has zero blind jokes.

“Seven Spanish Angels” was the most successful of Charles’ 8 country songs that made it on the charts. It reached number 1 on the Country charts, and no contributed to Friendship’s 70 weeks on the album charts. It remains the album’s enduring favorite, and has been covered by newer country favorites like Sierra Ferrell, Corb Lund, and Chris Stapleton and Dwight Yoakam.

Ray Charles never released another full length country album, though you can find some other country covers he’s done, like various Buck Owens songs and the horniest version of “Ring of Fire” ever recorded. Despite multiple hit country albums, Charles isn’t always remembered as the country fan and innovator that he was. Though he was inducted in the first Rock and Hall Hall of Fame Ceremony in 1986, he was only inducted in the Country Music Hall of Fame in 2021, almost 60 years after “he kicked country music forward 50 years,” to quote Willie Nelson once more.

Ray Charles was such a hugely successful artist across multiple genres that the scope of his influence is incalculable. And thanks to his country albums or not, people would probably agree with his sentiment about country music and black music’s similarities now more than ever. If you’re looking for examples of this today, you can easily find them in current artists like Allison Russell, Yola, Adia Victoria, Amythyst Kiah, Our Native Daughters, Mickey Guyton, The War and Treaty, Chapel Hart, and Darius Rucker.

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