Honestly, the holidays can be a bit of a musical blur. You have the same five songs on repeat in every grocery store, and eventually, the "jingles" start to sound like white noise. But then there’s Ray Charles The Spirit of Christmas. It’s different. It doesn't sound like a corporate mandated holiday album. It sounds like a guy who lived through some things, sat down at a piano, and decided to tell you the truth about December.
The Mystery of the 1985 Release
You’d think a legend like Ray Charles would have churned out a Christmas record in the 50s or 60s. That was the "prime" era for the Great American Songbook, after all. But no. He waited until 1985 to drop his one and only seasonal LP. He was 55 years old.
Why the delay?
Maybe he just wasn't feeling it until then. Or maybe he wanted to wait until he had his own studio, RPM International, fully dialed in. Whatever the reason, the timing gave us a version of Ray that was seasoned. His voice had that sandpaper-and-honey texture that only comes with age. If he’d recorded this in 1960, it might have been "sharper," but it wouldn't have been as soulful.
✨ Don't miss: Priyanka Chopra Latest Movies: Why Her 2026 Slate Is Riskier Than You Think
That One Song Everyone Actually Knows
If you’ve watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, you know this album better than you think. Remember the scene where Clark Griswold is trapped in the attic, wearing a woman’s turban to stay warm, watching old home movies? He’s crying. It’s a messy, emotional moment.
The song playing in the background is "That Spirit of Christmas."
It’s the centerpiece of the record. Written by Mable John, Joel Webster, and Parnell Davison, it isn't a "fun" song about reindeer. It’s a ballad about the ache of nostalgia. Ray’s delivery is basically a masterclass in phrasing. He doesn't just sing the notes; he sighs them. It’s why that movie scene works so well—it captures the lonely side of the holidays that we don't usually talk about at parties.
🔗 Read more: Why This Is How We Roll FGL Is Still The Song That Defines Modern Country
Not Your Typical Tracklist
Ray didn't just stick to the easy stuff. Sure, "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town" is there, but he treats it like a midnight jazz session. He’s improvising, throwing in these little asides like, "Y'know, it's supposed to be a secret, but I can't just keep it to myself." It feels alive.
- What Child Is This: This is probably the coolest track on the disk. It starts out quiet and patient, then suddenly erupts into a big band swing. You’ve got the legendary Freddie Hubbard on trumpet blowing a solo that has no business being on a "Christmas" album, yet it fits perfectly.
- The Little Drummer Boy: Most people find this song annoying. Ray fixes it. He brings in The Raelettes for that classic call-and-response and plays the Fender Rhodes in a way that feels almost like country-soul. It’s got a "throbbing" arrangement that replaces the usual stiff marching beat.
- Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: This isn't for kids. It’s a bumping blues ballad. Jeff Pevar plays some stinging guitar lines that sound more like B.B. King than a holiday workshop.
The Secret Weapon: The Collaborators
Ray didn't do this alone. He brought in heavy hitters who knew how to balance "seasonal cheer" with "serious musicianship."
- Freddie Hubbard: His flugelhorn and trumpet work on "What Child Is This" and "All I Want for Christmas" elevates the whole project from a pop record to a jazz staple.
- The Raelettes: Estella Yarbrough, Elaine Woodard, and the rest of the crew provide that gospel-infused backing that made Ray’s 60s hits so iconic.
- Rudy Johnson: His tenor sax adds a layer of grit that keeps the production from feeling too "shiny" or over-produced.
Why It Almost Disappeared
For a long time, Ray Charles The Spirit of Christmas was weirdly hard to find. It went out of print for over a decade. If you didn't have the original 1985 vinyl or the early CD, you were basically out of luck unless you caught it on the radio.
💡 You might also like: The Real Story Behind I Can Do Bad All by Myself: From Stage to Screen
Then Concord Records stepped in around 2009. They remastered the whole thing and, luckily for us, added a bonus track: the 1961 duet of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" with Betty Carter. It’s widely considered the definitive version of that song. The chemistry between them is hilarious and sharp. Adding it to the reissue was a stroke of genius because it bridged the gap between "Old Ray" and "80s Ray."
The "Attic" Feeling
There’s a specific vibe to this record. It’s not "department store" music. It’s "drinking bourbon by a dying fire" music. Ray manages to blend the sacred and the secular without it feeling forced. One minute he’s doing a somber, synthesizer-heavy version of "Christmas Time" (composed by Edward Cole), and the next he’s frolicking through "Winter Wonderland" with Kevin Turner on guitar.
Some critics at the time thought it was a bit late in the game for him. They were wrong. The fact that it feels a bit "clunky" in spots is actually its strength. It’s human.
Actionable Steps for the Ultimate Listen
If you're going to dive into this album, don't just put it on as background noise while you're cleaning the kitchen.
- Get the Remaster: Specifically, look for the 2009 or the more recent Tangerine Records reissues. The original 85' mix can sound a bit "thin" on modern speakers, but the remasters bring out the warmth of the bass and the Raelettes' harmonies.
- Listen for the "Hidden" Instruments: On "Christmas Time," Ray uses synthesizers in a way that was very "of the era" but he plays them with a church-organ sensibility. It’s a weird, beautiful hybrid.
- Watch the Movie Scene: Go back and watch the Christmas Vacation attic scene. It’ll change how you hear "That Spirit of Christmas" forever. You’ll realize it’s a song about the passage of time, not just about December 25th.
- Check the Credits: Look for the guitar work by Jeff Pevar and Kevin Turner. They aren't just playing chords; they're conversing with Ray's piano. It’s a masterclass in ensemble playing.
Ray Charles took a holiday that often feels plastic and gave it a heartbeat. He didn't reinvent the wheel, but he reminded us that even the most tired carols can sound new if you sing them like you actually mean it.