
A masterclass in country-soul heartbreak where gospel-drenched piano meets orchestral swells and the weary, gravelly wisdom of a man who has seen it all.
June 1966 · ABC-Paramount
Crying Time is the sound of a man who has turned his sorrow into a high art form. It is an album that exists in the blue hours of the night, where the only company is a glass of something strong and the hum of a tube amplifier. Ray Charles takes the skeletal structures of country-western music and breathes into them the fire of the black church and the sophistication of the jazz club. The result is a listening experience that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. It is the sonic equivalent of a heavy velvet curtain: warm, dark, and capable of muffling the outside world.
How does Crying Time sound next to the rest of Ray Charles's catalogue?
Melancholic saturates this record notably more than the artist's norm.
Cassette uses generative AI to enrich its catalog. How we use AI →