Poster: Ray Charles

I first discovered Ray Charles thanks to my friend Volodya, our local music guru.

He had impeccable taste, an encyclopedic knowledge of jazz, blues, and rock, an astonishing vinyl collection, and a superb turntable with equally impressive speakers. Just as importantly, he lived in one of those old German-built houses with walls nearly a metre thick—perfect for playing music very loud without disturbing the neighbours.

That evening, he pulled a hefty American double LP of Ray Charles from the shelf, housed in a beautifully made black gatefold sleeve, and dropped the needle on "Hit the Road Jack."

After "Jack"—and everything else on those records—my life split into two parts: before and after.

Believe me, I've listened to an enormous amount of music over the years. I've heard countless great artists, and more than a few genuine geniuses. But Ray became something else.

An idol? A hero? No, those words feel too temporary.

He simply became part of my life—and never left.

Before long, every Ray Charles recording I could possibly find in Minsk had been copied onto my reel-to-reel tapes.

As the years passed, the tape collection gave way to vinyl. I finally assembled a respectable shelf of Uncle Ray's LPs... only for the CD era to arrive out of nowhere. Compact discs occupied far less space—although they could never replace the pleasure of browsing through large-format album covers.

Naturally, I rebuilt the collection again, this time on CD and DVD.

Then came MP3s, reducing even those carefully collected albums to little more than anonymous files on a hard drive.

That's progress for you.

Every technological leap asks us to sacrifice a little more of the physical pleasure of collecting in exchange for a little more living space.

Do I still listen to Ray Charles today, despite having terabytes of extraordinary music at my fingertips—music that seemed almost unattainable back in the days of vinyl and reel-to-reel tapes?

Absolutely.

And every time I hear that unmistakable voice, I'm transported back to that evening in Volodya's apartment, when the raw power of a man in dark sunglasses completely blew my mind.

Do you think that's why I've always loved wearing dark sunglasses myself?

Perhaps it is.