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D
’Angelo and Questlove were sitting on a couch in a swanky hotel watching, or rather,microscopinga video of James Brownperforming in1964.D and Questobserved every gesture, each dance step and light cue,and anytime the Godfather of Soul subtly signaledthe band to do something.
Thisscene transpired25 years ago. I was in the roomcovering D’Angelo for Rolling Stone. He was,at that moment, one of the hottest artists in the world. His sophomore album, Voodoo,hadestablished him asan undeniablemusical genius.It was the zenith of the modern soul genre — deep, powerful,sexual, sensual, and intimate. It was precisely what drew so many to soul music:an album of long, dirty grooves, falsettoserenades, andgut-tickling bass.And it wasn’t just music, it wasD’s declaration ofwar over the future of music.
D’Angelo told me this is howhesawit: Music was becomingoverlycommercial,andVoodoowas an attemptto push artists away fromthattowardfollowingthe voice inside —wherever it led. Voodoo was also meant to get Prince’s attention, with the hope of convincing the Purple One to collaborate with D and Questonan album — essentially, to serve as an audition for Prince — but that’s another story.
Dwas on top of the world —abonafidesuperstarmusician —andevenstillhe wassitting therestudying the greatslike a hopeful student.Not justBrown,but also Stevie Wonder, Prince, Al Green, Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye — the soul-music canon, in a sense. They called these predecessors“Yodas,” and the videos were called “treats.”That day Questlove said toD, “What would your life be like if you hadn’t seen that George Clintontreat?” D answered: “Totally different.”
Watching him hyper-analyzeolder musicianshelped me understand some ofwhereD’s greatness came from. He was a serious student of his craft, anda hard worker, even though he wasamazingly gifted.In fact, he was so naturally talented from such an early age that his older brother told me they never thought D would be anything but a musician.
Dgrew up playing in a pentecostalist church in Virginia andwent to New York Cityin search of a record dealas a teenageras part of atrio. The label said,“Weonlywant him.” Hisdebut album, Brown Sugar, put everyone on notice: There was a new soul giant in town.His single of the same name, a cheeky back-and-forth about his love of marijuana, was among the top songs of that summer in 1995. Butsome feltit was a project left unfinished,as if the songs were more like sketches.Fiveyears later,Derased all of thatwithhis second album, Voodoo.It was a towering achievementthat made itclear that he was not only a disciple of soullegends,he wastheir peer as well.
But Voodooled toa problem.
The song “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” was D’Angelo’s masterwork:a swirling groove of erotic funk so hot you could get pregnant just by hearing it.His manager, DominiqueTrenier, envisioned a video where D was alone on a stagewiththe cameragivingus closeups of his incredible body — from his cornrows to just below his belly button.It would be simple, and sexual, and powerful. This would be the culmination of years of work on his body. When D droppedBrown Sugarhewas overweight. In thefiveyears after, as he worked onVoodoo, he changed his diet and trained obsessively. When it was time to shoot the“Untitled”video,D looked as fit as a human couldpossiblybe. But he didn’t want to dothe video. His limo pulled up outside the shoot, and he refused to get out. He was nervous.Treniercame out and sat with him until finally he felt ready.
They went in and created one of the most iconic videos of all time.The video hit the culture like a neutron bomb and titillated everyone. Was this the best-looking man alive? Maybe.The visual alone gave D’Angelo an even bigger profile. Buthere comes therub:After“Untitled,”people began to see the singer differently. At his shows, fans screamed for him to take his shirt off.That wasacceptable,but he wanted to be seen as a musician.
D had studied music like a graduate student and then spentfiveyears working on Voodoo. He wanted it all to be about songs — to convey that he was a great musician — but they were screaming so loud for his abs that you couldn’t hear the music. Hefelt like he’dbeendemoted from geniusto sex symbol. He rebelledby disappearing.We spent years missing him.His third and final album, Black Messiah, came out in 2014, more than a decade later.
Voodoo remains a towering achievement. It will be remembered as a powerful source of inspiration for so many, proving he may have persevered in the war he took on so bravely. D’Angelo reminded people that you can be successful by listening to your muse, ignoring industry trends, and giving the people innovative music.
Now, D’Angelo is gone, and when I hear his progeny —artists likeFrank Ocean,H.E.R.,and SZA —it’s like watchingbeautifulflowersbloom fromthemusicalseeds heplanted. All of which is to say, in the long game, he won.
