In 1969, you put out an instrumental album, "Eivets Rednow." Will there be another one in your future?
I'd love to do another one. Maybe I'll be Stevie Wonder this time [laughs]. But I've actually talked with Herbie Hancock, Quincy Jones and other people about this, a jazz album with harmonica. I'd also like to work with Toots Thielemans, who is incredible.
The way you play the harmonica, it seems like it is your second voice.
It is. The more I play the harmonica, the more I have an affection for it. I love the sax, and the harmonica is my small version of that.
What other albums are in your head after you finish "Time"?
I have three immediate goals after that. Besides the jazz album with harmonica, I want to do a gospel album and then work on doing a musical.
What inspired your epiphany at 21 when you restructured your contract to include your own publishing?
I just thought as I began to understand more about the business and artists' rights, it was only right for me to have my own publishing company and to really secure that part of my life.
My lawyer at the time and I met with different people, like Curtis Mayfield, to get a sense of what other writers had been able to do in various situations. When you think of record companies, well, it's really almost like a stable. You have all these different artists; they sing and do their thing. But at the end of the day, they don't own their masters.
There has to be something that is given to artists to continue their livelihood. It's imperative that artists have the right to be able to own their masters after a period of time. Artists and record companies can work out something where they mutually agree that after [the companies] have made back the money [they] put out on the product, the artists should have the right to ownership.
Do you own your masters?
No. But we're going to work out some things up and coming.
You are one of the few who have been able to make the transition from teen to adult artist without missing a beat. How did you manage that?
My faith is first and foremost in God. I'm not trying to get all deep here. But my faith is in the fact that I've been blessed with receiving from God some really great music and great lyrics. Because of that, I have been blessed with being steered in the right direction as far as communicating with people. They know it's from the heart, they know it's real. And I don't take those blessings for granted, and I don't take the opportunity to do it again and again for granted.
I'm only being used as a vehicle through which comes encouragement, inspiration, hope and some clarity. The blessings of these songs that I receive from God come through me, to be heard and felt. It is an honor to do it, and I never forget the honor. So maybe that's why I've been able to keep my job.
What is missing in today's music culture?
I'd like to see my culture and my people have a greater appreciation for all of what we've done musically and not limit it to just one particular time and space. We've done so much and created so many things, yet we're constantly moving to the next thing and what's next after that. We throw away those gifts.
If you don't cherish the gifts you've been given, what happens to them? They're taken away. Not enough people really understand how incredible B.B. King is and what he has done in his life. And how many people understand the significance of Chuck Berry, the Dixie Hummingbirds or Clifford Brown?
Listen to a lot of the music from West Africa, the rhythms and vocals. You can hear how the blues thing started. But you can only know that if you check it out.
There's also a lack of appreciation in terms of downloading. In one sense it has cheapened the value of an incredible art form. In another sense, it's a reflection of where society is: lack of respect for an art form ... for women ... for life itself.
Your music has been sampled, most notably "Pastime Paradise" for Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise." What is your criteria for allowing your songs to be sampled?
Sampling is OK as long as it doesn't get out of hand. I'm not really feeling when someone samples a whole song and puts a whole other melody on it. I'm also not going for songs that call women out of their names. If I want to OK a song, it's got to be for something that at the end of the day it won't be so crazy that the parent can't supervise it or explain it to his child.
Would you say you're more musician or more activist now?
I'm more musician. My way of expressing how I feel when I'm talking about political or social positions is better served when I do it through my music. It's not to say I can't express myself verbally. But music is the vehicle I've been given as a way to do that.
You also express your activism by owning Los Angeles radio station, urban outlet KJLH, which is promoting your ninth annual House Full of Toys holiday benefit. How does KJLH fare against such major-league owners as Clear Channel?
Musically and as a community force, the station is getting better. As I said, I'm my best critic. We have some great things happening under GM Karen Slade and PD Aundrae Russell. We've also got some new faces on staff and are tapping into those energies.
The one major criticism against that station has been its weak signal. Any plans to increase its power?
We've been talking with the [Federal Communications Commission]. We are serving a certain part of American culture, and it would be appropriate for them to give us more power to reach and fulfill that commitment. It's a long process. But we're the only privately owned and independent black station [in Los Angeles]. There are certain things we can do as a station that others cannot do.
With kudos being showered on the Ray Charles biopic, have you entertained the notion of a film about your life?
I plan to do a book, and I'm excited about the prospects of a film. But maybe I wouldn't limit it to one film. There are some things that could be talked about in the first part of my life. It would be very inspirational in the things that I went through growing up as a little boy being blind and the things my mother had to contend with plus my brothers and sister in the days before Little Stevie Wonder and Stevie Wonder. Then maybe there would be another film about the second half of my life. We're still telling that story now.
More than anything, I want to do a musical. I'd also like to do an acting role. I have a couple of ideas I've been working on, film storylines that are pretty good.
Early on, you were sometimes called Baby Ray. In fact, one of your first albums was titled "Tribute to Uncle Ray." Did you and Charles ever talk about working together?
We talked about it. There's a song I wrote, and I was hoping we would be able to do it. It's called "You're Too Much for My Eyes to See, I've Got to Touch You." It's really a nice song. Timewise, though, we just couldn't work it out.
When I say "Lula Hardaway," what are your first thoughts?
Your mother is your first love. She's the one who brought me into this world, and I thank God for allowing me to come through her. She handled my blindness a lot differently than maybe other mothers would have. As much as my being blind hurt her in the beginning, she did not limit me to just being in one place ... She allowed me to discover.
And it was through my discovering that I got the thirst for wanting to know. "What is that? What is it made of? I know how it sounds, but how does it look? Can I touch it? What's a radio? Where are the people? Why do they come out of the radio?"
There were times when she would say, "Don't go out back." But I'd go anyway, one time stepping in dog poop and getting my butt whipped [laughs]. But it was just about wanting to know and having a better understanding of things.
Berry Gordy?
With everything he had to go through, he was truly a genius with what he did in pulling Motown together. The musicians. The songwriters. The artists. The whole idea of the Motown family.
And in the midst of all that excitement, here I come. I heard from different people that Berry will cheat you out of your money; that you shouldn't go to Berry because he can't do what you really need to get done. But I was excited about a black person taking a chance; going out there and doing it.
It was an incredible experience. I thank Berry for enabling me to fulfill the dream I had for my mother to be queen for a day. And I got far more than that. I thank him for the challenges of "I don't agree with you, try it this way. I don't think so." Me saying "Songs" is going to be a double-album and him saying, "That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous."
The marriage of myself, Berry Gordy and Motown ... all of that couldn't have happened at any other place.
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