Robert Cray – To Cry or Not to Cry?

(To cry, or not to cry, that is the question. Do you cry? If so, why? If not, how can you avoid it?)

I started to cry easily in my childhood, even in situations I cannot recall as especially frightening.

As a small kid, I was fascinated by the comics published in Pif magazine, so I asked my parents to find a private tutor to learn French to read and comprehend the stories of my dearest characters. After a few years, I had to switch teachers. My father accompanied me to Vendel Gráfi, who lived on the top floor of a four-story building on Mosolygó Antal (now Kazinczy) boulevard in Gödöllő. Uncle Vendel was born in 1918, and he even taught Russian to my mother at Petőfi Sándor Elementary School, where he served as headmaster for a long time. He was a devoted, strong-voiced man. He loved and experienced French culture. My father and my new teacher had an instant bond living a hard-working, but bohemian life, but I was a bit afraid of the loud conversation, and after an unexpected question, I started to cry. Later on, I became fond of Mr. Gráfi, and he helped me understand French much better than before.

Naturally, I cried when my loved maternal uncle died in 1980. I cried when I fell down from the giant willow tree at the back of our old house and broke my wrist. I cried when my brother had his near-fatal accident. I cried when I debated with somebody more important to me than my truth. I cried at the funeral of the brother of my mother in law. I cried in desperation when driving to Kovácsszénája. I had cried for two years, bringing my father from doctor to specialist, from medical station to hospital, but strictly when he did not see me. My older son and I agreed not to cry at his funeral.

„I’m done crying
I’ve got no more tears
You can’t hurt me anymore
At least now I know where I stand
You won’t take away my dignity
Cause I am still a man”

Sings 

 in the eighth song of the wonderfully titled album Nothin But Love. This song has been part of my life since 2012 since it touched me profoundly and gave new meaning to the word dignity. The way he laments on the hardship of life, how the beautiful sounds of his guitar push further his train of thought words cannot express, its pure magic. The whole album is a benchmark in his life work. The tone of his guitar is perfect, his vocal performance is outstanding.

My first concrete Cray moment goes back to 1997. I worked for Sony Music already, and our releases were distributed by PolyGram (now Universal). We were visiting the distribution center at Gyömrői Way every week to meet the sales representatives and introduce the new products to them, so we could build good intercompany relationships, exchanging music. That’s the way I got a CD copy of Sweet Potato Pie, that hit me hard. My brother showed me great blues artists in my early childhood, I appreciated Muddy Waters, Alexis Korner, John Mayall, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, and was definitely open to discover new blues artists by then. The moodily stepping Back Home was an instant favorite with its outstanding guitar licks on top of the uplifting horn section and the playful organ harmonies, and with Mr. Cray’s unique vocals ranging from melancholic whispers to painful screams. Mezmerizing.

As always, I traced back the career of the new-found favorite as much as possible. As an avid CD collector, I went back until 1985, finding a second-hand copy of False Accusations. Interestingly enough, it is not available on Spotify, nor the first two albums, which I still have to listen to on youtube. If I take a closer look at the five Grammy-award career, it becomes quickly apparent why I became a dedicated fan of Robert Cray. As soon as I made a list of each album’s personal picks, I discovered that besides being a flawless guitar player and an unmatched soulful singer, he is a unique composer and lyricist. My most treasured songs of each album was written by Robert himself: The Last Time (I Get Burned Like This), I Wonder, I Can’t Go Home, My Problem, I Shiver, I’ll Go On. These pieces deliver that lyrical blues that I identify Mr. Cray with, and I love so much. Naturally, I admire Right Next Door (Because Of Me), the keytrack of the double-platinum album titled Strong Persuader that brought crossover success for The Robert Cray Band, but the protagonist of the song written by producer Dennis Walker is not fitting to the picture I draw about my hero.

My hero is an unmatched human being who can write songs like Twenty. Who does not meditate on his own problems always, but can voice opinions of those who remain silent because of obedience, sense of duty or pride. His songs stand for values that are rare nowadays. He can write about the pain of marriage with dramatic power. The line-end breaks, silences of Passing By, tell more than others can tell in a lifetime. The artist, who can convince the listeners that he believes in forever-lasting partnership, is extraordinary. The one who makes it real, a rare role model.

Robert and his future wife, Susan Turner, a British model, actress, director, has met in 1989 in Tokyo, and married in 1990 and has been living happily together since then. When they expected their son, Winston, in 2007, they moved out of the turmoil of Los Angeles, to lead a simpler life in Santa Ynez Valley.

„And if we protect our love
There’s a chance that we might
Make it last forever”

I don’t cry.

Or do I?