We All Need a Danny Ray
You ever meet a married couple that’s been together an incredible number of years, like, 60? 65? 70? My wife Melissa’s aunt and uncle just celebrated their 77th (!!!) wedding anniversary. They’re 99 and 96 years old, respectively. God bless them. For starters, I cannot imagine how any of us in this modern, social-media-driven rage culture will ever live that long. But say we do, can you imagine having a best friend for almost your entire life? That very well could be your spouse, but I’m talking about someone you grew up with before you knew your spouse. A best friend who has stayed by your side through everything. There’s never been a moment where that person wasn’t there. Sure, you have arguments, but you’re dedicated to each other unequivocally. I’ve never believed people who say they have “lots of friends.” You might have people who like you, or wanna be around you, especially when you’re doing well. But you know what I mean, a road dog. Somebody who’s by your side when you’re struggling. Someone who’s not envious when you’re doing well. Someone who you find yourself alone in a crowded room when that person’s not around. Someone you’d give your last dollar or bite of food to, because you love them. Someone who will say, “Hey, man, you need to get it together.” Someone who ultimately doesn’t want anything from you. Lots of friends? You’re lucky if you get just one.
I’ve always been fascinated at the road dogs of artists I’ve admired. Frank Sinatra had his man, Jilly Rizzo. No matter what was going on in Ol’ Blue Eyes’ life, Ol’ Jilly was right there. When people think of Muhammad Ali, most know of his boisterous cheerleader, Drew “Bundini” Brown, but there was a man who stayed by Ali’s side before he became champ, during and after, the photographer, Howard Bingham. He was Ali’s true road dog. Many know just how important Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington were to each other for decades….Robyn Crawford and Whitney Houston…..Wynton Marsalis and his JALC producer and road manager, Billy Banks, who’s been by his side for almost 40 years. I think of my friend, Dianne Reeves and her best friend from childhood, Anna Jean Redmond, who has been traveling with her for as long as I can remember. It’s beautiful — and rare — when you get just one.
In James Brown’s career, many know that his alter-ego, the man who actually helped him get on his feet once young James was released from prison at age 19, was Bobby Byrd. Byrd also co-wrote many songs with Mr. Brown until he permanently left the JB camp in 1972. But even after that, it was always a joyous surprise to see Mr. Byrd pop up on a gig here and there. It was obvious that as challenging as their relationship was, as they fell out numerous times, sometimes for long stretches, the core was strong. Mr. Byrd passed away in September 2007, just a mere nine months after Mr. Brown.
There was also the stalwart, gray-patch-in-his-hair saxophonist, St. Clair Pinckney, who was friends with JB even before Bobby Byrd. St. Clair didn’t get a whole lot of solos, as those duties went primarily to saxophonists Nat Jones, Pee Wee Ellis, and most famously, trombonist Fred Wesley and saxophonist Maceo Parker. St. Clair was the man who held the sax voicings together with either his baritone, tenor, or (later on) his alto saxophone. In a culture which seems to demand and champion unwavering individualism, Mr. Pinckney was the type of person we don’t celebrate enough. He was a section player. Happy to play parts. Happy to do what it took to make the team better. No spotlight needed. Mr. Pinckney died in 2000 after more than 40 years with Mr. Brown. There were a couple of brief spots where Mr. Pinckney wasn’t in the band, but those didn’t last long.
So many people in Brown’s world came in and out for stretches over various periods of time since the golden era of the 60’s and 70’s. But there was one, and only one man, who was the ultimate James Brown “lifer,” and that was his loyal emcee, valet, hypeman, capeman, and any other kind of “man” JB needed, Mr. Danny Ray. Mr. Ray was the one and only man that never left James Brown’s side. He became a part of James Brown’s universe in 1960. Of the legendary crew, only Bobby Byrd and St. Clair Pinckney were there that early. Mr. Ray witnessed the evolution of soul music and the development of funk. After the infamous 1970 band mutiny, Mr. Ray remained. He saw Bootsy and Catfish Collins reinvent funk, he was there when Fred Wesley came back and took over the band after Bootsy and Catfish left. He was there during the disco-era, “Body Heat” period. He was there in the 1980’s when things got rough for Mr. Brown. When Mr. Brown returned to the road in 1992, Mr. Ray was still there, hyping up the crowd. Throughout the final period of James Brown’s life, he was there. As tempestuous as Mr. Brown could be, what was it that made Mr. Ray so fireproof? I don’t know, but Mr. Ray could say that he was the only man that was a part of every single period of Mr. Brown’s career from 1960 to Brown’s death in 2006. He didn’t miss one thing.
If you were ever lucky enough to see James Brown live, you’ll never forget the man who came out and got the crowd hyped up. “Right about now, Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s Startime! Are you ready for Startime?” You’ll also never forget seeing Mr. Ray draping James Brown with the lavish, sequined capes during “Please, Please, Please.” He was an unforgettable figure. The first time I got to meet the James Brown crew in person in 1993, the crew I met that night was drummer Robert “Mousey” Thompson, guitarist Ron Laster, keyboardist/bassist/bandleader “Sweet Charles” Sherrell, saxophonist St. Clair Pinckney, and of course, Mr. Ray. This was at the 1993 Montreux Jazz Festival. (A little side note: The tennis player, Yannick Noah, had a band that played the festival that night and I remember all the guys from James Brown’s band watching it on the monitor. Midway through the first song, they all looked at each other and gave a benign shrug. 🤣) Everything about Mr. Ray just exuded old-school, black entertainment. The way he talked, the way he dressed, everything was Apollo Theater — circa 1964 (or ’74 🤣). When I met up with the James Brown gang again at the Apollo Theater the following year, it felt like a James Brown “This Is Your Life” episode as everyone was there — Bobby Byrd, Vicki Anderson, bassist (and bus driver!) Bernard Odum, Rev. Al Sharpton, and of course, longtime band members like Fred Thomas, Martha High, Charles Sherrell and Arthur Dickson. But even with all of those towering figures present, Mr. Ray was omnipresent. Back then, I believe you could still smoke indoors at certain venues, so I remember he always had a cigarette, either a white or a red suit on (depended on the night) with his white hat. No matter where I turned, there he was, murmuring. 🤣 I’m willing to bet my life that he talked much differently in 1960. The longer he stayed with James Brown, the more he started to talk like him. When Mr. Ray was speaking in his regular, non-emcee voice, you really had to zone in and focus because often you just couldn’t understand him. He spoke quickly and with that Birmingham (his hometown)/James Brown drawl. He was an unforgettable character.
When James Brown died, I worried specifically about Mr. Ray. I knew that many of Mr. Brown’s other band members had found other gigs with people like Maceo Parker, Joss Stone and others, but what would become of Mr. Ray? Who was in the market for a 74-year-old capeman and emcee? From what I heard, he would pick up a gig every now and then emceeing Maceo or some sort of James Brown tribute show, but more or less, he wasn’t working much.
When I started my very first touring quartet in 1995, I would have the band play me on. In retrospect, that must have been funny to see. As Melissa told me many years later, “The first time I saw you play, I thought, “Only singers get played on, not bass players!” 🤣 My response to that would now be (in my James Brown voice): “See, Mz. Walker, that’s what the jazz world NEEDS — some imagination…in the PREsentation, you understand? See, Mr. McBride watched me. He understands that it can’t JUST be about playing that bass. Oh, no. Ain’t nobody surprised he can play the bass at this point, so he got to do something different with the presentation. Put some showbiz in it! I ain’t mad at Mr. McBride. See, them other jazz cats gonna try to make him feel bad ‘cause he like the showmanship, but trust me, Mr. McBride gonna always be workin’! Believe that. Workin’! He watched me. Got all that from me.” Once I got tired of getting played on, I went standard entrance for a long time — “Ladies and Gentleman, Christian McBride.” and walked out. No big deal. It was all good. Then in 2010, I started my big band.
My intention with my big band was (and still is) to use it to develop my writing and arranging and to find a band sound. A few years later, James Brown’s imaginary voice came to mind: “imagination….in the PREsentation.” If there was ever a time to have a band play me on, it would be now. So one day I took the shout chorus from James Brown’s version of Lieber and Stoller’s “Kansas City” (arranged by Sammy Lowe and Pee Wee Ellis) and started using that as my walk-on music. I would have whoever was the venue’s announcer or club manager or local DJ handle the intro. Then a virtual hand came and slapped me across the head — “CALL DANNY RAY!!” The idea seemed so logical, I was upset that it took me so long to figure it out. In 2013, Mr. Danny Ray became my big band’s official emcee. The first time I heard Mr. Ray onstage introducing me with “Kansas City” playing behind him, I almost fainted. For my entire life, the name “Mr. James Brown” always followed Mr. Ray’s “and now the star of the show…” Now, I’m hearing, “….and now the star of the show, Mr. Christian McBride!” I’m getting chills remembering this.
It was the thrill of a lifetime for me and the entire big band to have Mr. Ray around. His energy, his stories, his voice, his HISTORY, made the band feel so grounded. For a four year span, Mr. Ray traveled with me and the big band all throughout the USA, China, Japan, the Caribbean, and along the way, I was the musical director of two James Brown tribute concerts at the Hollywood Bowl and at NJPAC. Mr. Ray was with me for both. I also remember when my big band played at Dizzy’s in 2015 and 2016, Mr. Ray invited two old friends to the club, former James Brown dancers, Ann Norman and Cookie Odum. One year, those two, plus my dear friend and former JB tour manager, Alan Leeds, were all in attendance. For that night, Dizzy’s felt like the Apollo Theater.
In 2018, Mr. Ray started to have chronic bronchial problems. He was permanently placed on oxygen and found it more and more difficult to travel. Mr. Ray did his last gig with my big band at Dizzy’s Club at Jazz at Lincoln Center in the spring of that year. He was carrying around an oxygen tank and I had that sad feeling that it could be the last time we all saw him. It was. Although he never did another gig with us, Mr. Ray always stayed safe and sound….and sharp….in his home in Augusta, Georgia.
Yesterday, our dear friend, Mr. Danny Ray, passed away just one month shy of his 86th birthday in Augusta. Yes, he was the last man standing from James Brown’s pre-Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag days, but more importantly, this man was living history from a world people younger than me will never get to experience. I will miss hanging with him and hearing him introduce me. I’ll miss him introducing Melissa as “The girl with the angel voice!” I’ll miss seeing him perpetually in a suit and tie. I’ll miss him calling gigs jobs. As in: “Where’s the next job, Mr. McBride? Austin, right?” That’s that old school show-biz! Yes, Mr. Ray was something. He was full of wisdom, stories, character….and soul.
RIP, Mr. Ray.
