This week’s Blues Before Sunrise travels deep into the grooves of blues history, radio rhythm, and soul evolution. Across five hours, Steve Cushing builds a show that mirrors the full emotional and musical range of Black American music — from ballroom swing to raw Delta truth, from gospel fire to soul sophistication. There’s no single theme this week, but there is an unmistakable throughline: the power of performance and the joy of rediscovery.

Hour One warms up the night with a cool glide through the golden age of swing and early R&B. Erskine Hawkins’ “Tippin’ In” sets a lively tone, its brass lines punching through with jump-era energy. Joe Williams, paired with Count Basie’s unmatched rhythm section, shows how blues phrasing could elevate big band jazz into something deeply personal. Dinah Washington’s sultry phrasing, the tight vocal harmonies of the Delta Rhythm Boys, and Wild Bill Davis’s Hammond organ mastery all contribute to an hour that celebrates the crossroads where sophistication meets soul. By the time Earl Bostic closes with “Flamingo,” the air feels electric — ready for the long night ahead.

Hour Two turns the spotlight to the women of postwar rhythm and blues — voices that defined an era but too often went under-celebrated. From Lulu Reed’s confident delivery on “What Makes You So Cold” to Ruth Brown’s polished fire on “So Long,” this hour honors the singers who built the bridge between jump blues and early soul. Etta James, LaVern Baker, Irma Thomas, and Sugar Pie DeSanto all make appearances, each bringing her distinct take on heartache and independence. The hour closes with a nod to gospel — Georgia Peach, Mahalia Jackson, the Gay Sisters, and Dorothy Love Coates — a reminder that even in the most secular R&B, the roots of the church ran deep.

Hour Three takes listeners into a unique BBS tradition — The Blind Man’s Ball. It’s a musical gathering of artists who carried “Blind” in their stage names, a nod to the many visually impaired blues musicians who shaped the early sound of the genre. Blind Blake’s guitar runs, Blind Willie McTell’s storytelling, and Blind Lemon Jefferson’s haunting tones set the scene. The lineup continues with Blind Boy Fuller, Blind Gary Davis, and Blind Roosevelt Graves — each representing a different corner of prewar blues expression. The hour moves from sacred to profane, from field hollers to parlor blues, painting a vivid portrait of the blues’ earliest years.

Then comes Hour Four, a pure powerhouse: The Blues Big Three of Chicago — Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and Little Walter. Each giant is represented by 1960s recordings, an era when their sound grew heavier and their authority deeper. Muddy’s “You Shook Me” and “Tiger in Your Tank” burn with Chess Records fire; Howlin’ Wolf roars through “Wang Dang Doodle” and “Killing Floor” with feral force; and Little Walter closes the set with harmonica mastery that still defines the instrument’s modern sound. Together, these sides mark the last great decade of the classic Chicago Blues sound before the world changed around it.

Finally, Hour Five offers a reflective close — a “Soul Breakfast” with a spotlight on Ray Charles in the studio. Before diving into Ray’s alternate takes and studio chatter from The Complete Atlantic Recordings, Disc 7, the hour eases in with elegant cuts from the Ink Spots, Ella Fitzgerald, Jimmy Smith, and Una Mae Carlisle. Then comes the magic: Ray Charles shaping and reshaping “Heartbreaker,” “Sinner’s Prayer,” “Tell Me How Do You Feel,” and “It Had to Be You.” Hearing him direct the session — testing grooves, fine-tuning phrasing — reveals the meticulous artistry behind his effortless genius.

The show closes, fittingly, with Fleetwood Mac’s “Albatross” — a serene, wordless farewell that drifts like a final exhale after five hours of musical conversation.

This week’s Blues Before Sunrise is both a history lesson and a meditation on craft. It moves from the dancehall to the church, from the country to the city, from the blind bluesmen of the Delta to the sighted genius of Ray Charles. It’s not just a playlist — it’s a map of how the blues became the backbone of American sound.