Weekend self-care open thread: In memoriam, D'Angelo, by New Breed Leader
Hi-ho, everyone, LL here.
Last week I gave weekend self-care duties to Victor of the Crab. This week, I give it over to NBL to honor the tzaddik D'Angelo. Attend.
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D’Angelo didn’t like the term “Neo Soul”. He thought it was too trendy. He considered himself simply a soul artist. But his manager had to call the sound of his music something, so that he could be anointed the king of it, and so, Neo Soul it was.
Michael Eugene Archer was born February 11, 1974, in Richmond, Virginia, to two Pentecostal preacher parents.
D'Angelo was raised in the church. A musical prodigy, he could play piano by the age of 3.
He was discovered by a talent scout one day and encouraged to play talent shows, which eventually led to his first appearance at Harlem’s Apollo Theater’s Amateur Night.
He was signed to EMI Records in 1993. Two years later, he released his debut album, “Brown Sugar”. Consider the music landscape that existed when Brown Sugar arrived in 1995. Rap and hip hop was king. New Jack Swing, popularized by Teddy Riley, was on its way out; Brown Sugar sounded like nothing else on the radio. Gospel-infused soul, infused with sensuality, desire, longing, and funk; That was Brown Sugar. The singles “Lady”, “Cruisin”, and the title track were big hits. The album peaked at No. 22 on the Billboard charts.
But it was his second album, “Voodoo”, that changed everything for D’Angelo.
The music video for the single “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” broke the Internet before breaking the Internet was a thing. At hair salons, spas, and slumber parties all over the country, women were hypnotized by the sexy sultry video, featuring D'Angelo’s sculpted shirtless body, belting out the erotic song into a camera. The song itself was a loving tribute to The Purple One. And Prince received the message; his groundbreaking 2001 album “The Rainbow Children” was an indirect response to Voodoo. (It was as if Prince was saying “See? I can play the Rhodes piano too – and without cursing!”)
I’ll admit, I was one of those hypnotized women, and I fell in lust with the Soul crooner; but what came next, I was not expecting, and neither was D’Angelo. He became a reluctant sex symbol, and struggled with the sudden fame that The Video brought him. There were stories of him being heckled by women at concerts, who didn’t care about D’Angelo’s music; they just wanted to see him take off his clothes.
I remember seeing him live in 2000 on the Voodoo tour; fortunately, on this particular night, there was none of that, but there was plenty of screaming; and at one point during the show, during “Shit Damn Motherfucker” (a tour highlight) D’Angelo leaped wildly into the crowd of crazed women, and almost didn’t make it back to the stage; one more minute, and he would’ve been torn to shreds.
It was D’Angelo mania, and it was a lot of fun for the fans, but not for D’Angelo. His sudden sex symbol status was torture.
As much as I lusted after the man and thought he was hot, I did not want that for him. After all, there were other songs on Voodoo; excellent songs, dripping with
sex, funk, longing and worship; and I loved them all. The album earned D’Angelo two Grammy awards, and rightly so.
D'Angelo, unfortunately, never recovered from the sudden fame that The Video had brought him; he became depressed that his (mostly female) public was focused on his physical appearance and not his music.
He became a recluse. It would be 15 years (and a brief stint in rehab) before we heard from him again. Black Messiah, D’Angelo’s third and final album, is a gorgeous collection of lush songs, focused on black liberation and social justice, no doubt a continuation of the music of Curtis Mayfield.
With only three albums, D’Angelo had transformed Black music.
In the hierarchy of R&B, the up and comer always presents a threat of sorts to the old guard. D’Angelo was no different. Prince considered him a threat, much like Marvin Gaye considered Prince a threat nearly 20 years earlier. But D’Angelo had no interest in unseating his hero; he merely wanted to show love for him and expand on what he did.
Prince was infused into almost everything D’Angelo did (much like Sly and James Brown was infused into everything Prince did), but make no mistake – D’Angelo forged his own unique musical path that was highly influential. There’d be no Miguel, no Steve Lacy or Thundercat, no Childish Gambino, without D’Angelo.
Soul was more than D’Angelo’s passion; it was his inheritance; he took it seriously. He never stopped being a student of music.
His short but impactful body of work will be studied for years to come.
We will not see his like again.
Goodbye, Michael Archer.
LL again. May his memory be a blessing. May he be reunited with his love, Angie Stone. And may their child grow up to be strong in the memory of his parents.
As always, dear friends, be ever kind, gentle, and joyful, to yourselves and those around you.