Two weeks after D’Angelo died on Tuesday, October 14th, I’m still struggling to wrap my noggin’ around the notion that the man born Michael Eugene Archer has transitioned to the great gig in the sky.
A dynamic innovator, humble spirit, once-in-a-lifetime creator, and cosmic funk Jedi who consistently mystified and effortlessly mesmerized, channeling the pioneering Yodas that paved the path for him to soar.
Now, D’Angelo flies away to be with the ancestors himself.
We awoke on the first morning in our beautiful new Oakland home to the devastating news that D’Angelo—my favorite living artist—was dead, tragically felled by pancreatic cancer at merely 51 years young.
Like so many superfans, I’ve been wallowing in somewhat of a listless fog. Shell-shocked in a strange headspace, with melancholic heartache washing over me in random waves. Sitting at my office desk, blankly staring into the screen, eyes watery, cycling through a series of futile/frustrating attempts to summon words that might adequately communicate the gravity of this sad new reality.
Nobody even knew he was sick, let alone navigating a harrowing terminal diagnosis. So raw, so sudden, so absolutely crushing.
Yet his closest peoples fiercely protected D’s privacy til the very end.
The finality of it all really rocked me to my core. And over the past week I’ve learned I am far from alone in that regard.
Teenage D’Angelo Sings BMU “You Will Know”
[Video: NYC_CA_Girl]
An introverted church kid who blossomed from rural Virginia Pentecostal beginnings to write a major motion picture theme song at 17, then captured Grammy glory several times over in his 20s. Shining shoulder to shoulder with heroes atop multiple musical mountains. Anointed as the Chosen One of his generation by peers and fans alike.
Yet the human beneath the star power was a tortured genius, a mortal being burdened by suffocating fears, battling crippling self-doubt, immense cultural pressures, plus darkness and demons that so often follow in their wake.
A troubled young man, who gracefully touched greatness with relative quickness, soon retreated. Recoiling from a dirty industry, spiraling from the glare of the spotlight, tumbling all the way out of sight before eventually rock bottoming in the most public fashion.
A dozen years after Voodoo shook the earth at the dawn of the 21st century, a Black Messiah miraculously rose from the ashes like a divine phoenix, delivering a Second Coming unlike anything we’ve witnessed before or since.
How D’Angelo Saved Music With Black Messiah
[Video: 22 Stone Productions]
Your narrator has spent the last quarter-century of unlimited devotion fervently devouring every last morsel this man saw fit to bless the people with. The only comparable parallel is my lifelong allegiance to all things Jerry Garcia, a dedication that predates my passion for D’Angelo by an adolescent stretch. Yet, both lauded luminaries share similar sacred space in the chest, with mega real estate holdings between my ears in the neocortex.
At 17 years old in the safe suburban confines of South Jersey, the back-to-back deaths of Garcia and Blind Melon’s Shannon Hoon (in August and October 1995, respectively) sent a high school senior into an emotional tailspin.
However, three decades later, 3,000 miles away in the East Bay, the autumn wind is once again a pirate, stealing another spirit out from under us without warning.
Even though I may be all grown up now, this one hits different.
I’m reminded of the somber, salient reflections Bob Dylan shared in the tailwind of Garcia’s passing:
“There’s no way to measure his greatness or magnitude as a person or player,” Dylan said in August 1995. “I don’t think eulogizing will do him justice. He was that great, much more than a superb musician, with an uncanny ear and dexterity. He is the very spirit personified of whatever is Muddy River country at its core and screams up into the spheres. He really has no equal.”
Devil’s Pie Documentary Official Trailer
[Video: Interakt]
Despite the fact I’m copping to 25 years of borderline obsessive superfandom, it’s not my place to eulogize D’Angelo, nor am I in any real condition to do so, were it even appropriate. A smattering of informed career-spanning thinkpieces tracing the artist’s narrative arc in great detail has already blanketed the interwebs, pontificating on the enormity of D’Angelo’s presence in Black culture and music history. These works are often authored by pens and voices who’ve lived his journey more authentically and personally than this cis white male could ever fathom. Most of them are indeed worth your time and attention.
For better or worse, I have cautiously waded into the deeper end of D’Angelo scholarship in the past. Instead, today I would prefer to celebrate his legacy from a more subjective perspective. After seven days of sitting a strange parasocial shiva, I’ve finally distilled my reflections into a missive and memoriam mined directly from my broken heart.
Ultimately, my intention here is to deliver this maestro his flowers. So let’s twist up some Brown Sugar, hop in the wayback machine, remember the times, feel all the feels, and sit in those feelings—one mo’ ‘gin.
What follows are just a precious few of my favorite D’Angelo things.
The Album: Voodoo (2000)
Grammy-winning LP Voodoo, released just three weeks into the new century, was the true embarkation point for my devotion to the D’Angelo dream. Moderately familiar with 1995 debut Brown Sugar, that release didn’t make much of a real-time impact on me junior year of high school, though I’d eventually make up for lost time.
Four years onward, after discovering DJ Premier collab “Devil’s Pie” in college via Hype Williams’ motion picture Belly, my D’Angelo curiosity was officially piqued. I thirsted for more of this alluring hybrid strain that deftly wedded past with present. My buddy Jeff—always a little ahead of the curve—dubbed me a Voodoo cassette shortly after the masterpiece was released in January 2000, and an eternal flame was first set ablaze.
DJ Premier On His D’Angelo Collab “Devil’s Pie”
[Video: Mass Appeal]
A ravishing, seductive, anti-establishment slab of progressive sound art, Voodoo was the forbidden fruit of nearly four years of laborious study and jamming at NYC’s Electric Lady Studios from 1997–99. D’Angelo dove deep into a prolific, if self-indulgent, creative period working with the legendary Soulquarians collective.
D’Angelo’s co-pilot in this mission/vision was The Roots drummer Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson; both profoundly inspired by the subversive work of revolutionary producer J-Dilla, whose inescapable influence looms large throughout the record. Other notable Voodoo collaborators included late jazz trumpet giant Roy Hargrove, late gospel guitarist Chalmers “Spanky” Alford, bassist Pino Palladino, hybrid 8-string wizard Charlie Hunter, The Roots keyboardist James Poyser, multi-instrumentalist Raphael Saadiq, and all-world studio engineer Russ Elevado, among others. They experimented liberally, jammed deep into the night, broke conventional industry rules, and worked at their own measured pace.
D’Angelo Talks Voodoo On Red Bull Music Academy
[Video: Red Bull Music Academy]
The iconic, short-lived Soulquarians scene gifted the world several landmark albums from the Electric Lady sessions, with Voodoo clearly the crown jewel. Controversial for its unorthodox approach to song structure, obtuse rhythms/obscured melodies, and anachronistic sound design, Voodoo exploded like an atomic bomb, both in the culture and my own life. An entire generation that cut across racial/societal lines was seduced by this spiritualized/sacreligious sound art that slivered between spaces sacred and profane.
Voodoo‘s aphrodisiac concoctions seeped their way into my DNA. The “no-skips” listening experience was enveloping, intoxicating to a wide-eared college kid in Burlington, VT. D’Angelo and the Soulquarians revolutionized the way I hear and feel music. A serenade of the spiritual and sordid, sanctimonious and sexy, Voodoo remains the one record that I’ve never, ever tired of, offering infinite replay value, and continues to reveal its idiosyncratic brilliance.
The Show:
D’Angelo & The Soultronics, Voodoo World Tour
August 20th, 2000, Atlantic City, NJ
As much as I loved D’Angelo’s shapeshifting sophomore album, as a Deadhead/Phish kid reared on raging the live element, I counted the days til I could bear witness to R&B Jesus live and direct. The opportunity would materialize in August 2000, toward the tail end of the Voodoo World Tour. D’Angelo & the Soultronics descended on Atlantic City and proceeded to detonate the Taj Mahal Hotel & Casino with a colossal thunderclap of crunkalogic munitions. I had the good fortune and extreme privilege to share this revelatory evening with three of my childhood best friends.
For a relentless two-hour revue, D’Angelo was a tour de force, channeling James Brown, Sly Stone, George Clinton, Prince, Jimi Hendrix, Fela Kuti, Marvin Gaye, and The Gap Band, all rolled into solid gold and profusely sweating out the funk. Musical director Questlove steered the new mothership. The Soultronics—made up of several Soulquarians plus select mercenaries drafted from all over the world—followed their spellbinding frontman and the giant afro keeping time.
D’Angelo & The Soultronics — North Sea Jazz Festival — The Hague, Netherlands — 7/16/00 — Partial Video
[Video: FunkItBlog]
A whirling dervish and Superman lover, D repeatedly heaped praise on “good God almighty,” he dazed and astounded with nary a f–k given. Simultaneously tight and greasy, as freewheeling and versatile as any band I’ve ever seen, The Soultronics delivered an incomparable history lesson and uncorked a downright religious awakening.
From Sly Stone’s “Loose Booty” to The Junkyard Band’s “Sardines”, D & The Soultronics were perpetually standing on the verge of a madhouse; segueing in and out of rare grooves, paying homage to their heroes, and communicating in a seemingly secret language. They rang the fire alarm for Ohio Players, funkified Roberta Flack, had us fantastically fallin’ in love with Slum Village, and bumped a little Minnie Ripperton in their native tongue.
These cats expertly wove together deep cuts, beloved bangers, and D’Angelo’s contemporary creations with seemingly effortless transitions and unflappable swagger. This creativity, virtuosity, and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants gusto spoke to a guy who cut his teeth on ’90s jambands’ improv recklessness; quite frankly, I have not been the same boy since I caught the Holy Ghost on the Atlantic City Boardwalk 25 years ago.
Okayplayer Message Boards
Giving us true sites since 1999, Okayplayer‘s part in D’Angelo’s meteoric rise and staying power cannot be overstated, nor can the role it played in our music-obsessed lives. Somewhat of a digital homebase for the extended/post Soulquarian diaspora, Okayplayer proved an essential cog in my journey as a devout D’Angelo evangelist. Without question, OKP is where I got the lion’s share of my musical education and exposure for over a decade, facilitating an enthusiastic embrace of Black music and the cultures that surround, passions that continue unabated today.
The Okayplayer message boards—specifically/infamously, The Lesson—were a worldwide community rooted in the Philly/NYC region, offering a vibrant nerve center for coalescing around the music and commiserating with like-minded folk. An inclusive, liberating space that fostered informed, analytical, and often spirited discussions among the deeply devoted, vocal detractors, non-believers, and greener folk just arriving on the scene.
Questlove & Donwill Discuss 25 Years Of Okayplayer
Long before social media poisoned the proverbial internet well, Okayplayer cultivated an extremely dedicated and engaged online fanbase for the associated artists like founding band The Roots, as well as Common, Mos Def, Erykah Badu, J-Dilla, Jill Scott, and later the next generation like Little Brother and Foreign Exchange (the latter of whom was quite literally born on the boards.) However, none were championed more fervently than D’Angelo, with OKPs generating tidal hype waves, teasing future collabs and features, leaking demos and outtakes, trafficking in dubious rumors, all the while reliably preserving/furthering D’s unique mystique during lengthy, reclusive spells of near total silence.
While the mainstream zeitgeist either moved on from D’Angelo altogether or frustratingly focused on his offstage/personal challenges, OKP held D down without condition. During the 14-year gap between Voodoo (2000) and Black Messiah (2014), Okayplayer kept D’Angelo’s music alive and relevant, consistently huffing the headiest hopium with regard to any forthcoming new music or even the most innocuous developments. With little legit official info besides some troubling behaviors reported in the media, we speculated wildly on the dude’s whereabouts, musical direction, and collaborations, baking imaginary clues as if they were Soulquarian Q-drops. And who could ever forget the D’Angelo forever wars in The Lesson between OKP doctorate scholars ‘Warren Coolidge’ vs. ‘AFKAP of Darkness’?
Back when he was still somewhat of a cult-hero and not yet a household name, Questlove (OKP handles: ‘qoolquest’, & later ‘15’) regularly engaged with us in The Lesson, an intimate and illuminating connection to D’Angelo’s one-time/long-time co-conspirator. Ahmir provided unprecedented peeks into D’Angelo’s universe and confirmed/dispelled assorted lore via vivid Voodoo-era tour diaries, detailed predictions from the latest Electric Lady recording sessions, and touching anecdotes that humanized D’Angelo in ways we’d otherwise never know.
Questlove & D’Angelo Discuss Prince | Okayplayer
D’Angelo’s Onstage Evolution
To really step into the scintillating sanctum of the D’Angelo thang, one can’t only listen to studio gloss, near-perfect as his trifecta of records may be. You gotta watch him sweat, feel the songs stretch, breathe in the dank, smoky, sanctified air of the live transmissions. D’s onstage evolution from neo-soul prodigy to electrifying cold-sweat heartthrob to psychedelic funk-rock shaman wasn’t only found in setlists; it was an entire spiritual transformation that unfolded over the course of three decades.
And as a hippie kid who came of age dissecting and devouring the markedly different eras of live Grateful Dead—and later The Phish from Vermont—I was already primed and prepared for such nerdery.
Among the more remarkable and rewarding aspects of D’Angelo as an artist and performer is how his songs evolved and mutated in the live element. He was an avowed student of the forefathers (Yodas) who laid the groundwork before him, aforementioned soul/R&B/funk luminaries of the ’60s and ’70s. He also surreptitiously incorporated golden-era hip-hop nuggets from the late ’80s and ’90s into his potions. When D took it to the stage, he was constantly reinventing himself and his songbook, prone to stitching together segues and transitions that connected his influences across generations.
D’Angelo — “Brown Sugar” — Later… With Jools Holland — 1995
Back in ’95, his stage was a cozy, intimate affair, less spectacle and more musical conversation. Fresh off the release of debut Brown Sugar, D’Angelo sat at the keys, bathing in the muted glow of a jazz club. D’s early live sound was lush, sparse, and classy, paying a humble homage to soul heroes. Unassuming, smooth, and deeply reverential. He wasn’t the star; the music was. It was a neo-soul coming-out party, and the songs remained mostly unadulterated. A one-man show, his hands tickling the Fender Rhodes, vocals like butter baby, and choice covers invoking inspirations like Al Green, Earth, Wind, & Fire, and Smokey Robinson.
The 77-date Voodoo World Tour in 2000 was a different beast entirely. D’Angelo shed the piano bench for a mic stand up front, transforming into a physical specimen who stalked the stage, levitating and glistening with hypnotizing charisma. A bona fide force of nature, a possessed, gyrating conduit of pure, uncut mojo that whipped audiences into a frenzied chorus of shrieking and screaming. The scene no longer felt like a cafe; this was a funk inferno, an homage to the Godfather for the 21st century. Backed by the methodical Soultronics, compositions like “Lady”, “Brown Sugar”, and “Devil’s Pie” metamorphosed into living, breathing leviathans that took feverish joyrides through the Yoda scriptures with reckless abandon.
D’Angelo & The Soultronics — Montreaux Jazz Festival — Montreaux, Switzerland — 7/14/00
[Video: FunkItBlog]
After nearly a dozen years in the abyss, D’Angelo re-emerged a wizened and weathered prophet. He’d privately faced down some demons, renewed himself with passion and purpose, a fresh sound and a vibrant new band, The Vanguard. The short Occupy Music (Europe) and Liberation (U.S.) tours in 2012 saw D kick off his comeback shows with a stirring interpolation of Motherlode‘s “When I Die“, a gripping homage to his dearly departed homie J-Dilla. Three years later, in the tailwind of Black Messiah, the subsequent Second Coming run proved nothing short of incendiary, a Herculean return to the D’Angelo chamber.
During his quasi-sabbatical, D had become increasingly fond of playing guitar, soon shredding alongside the iconic Vanguard tandem of Jesse Johnson (The Time) and Isaiah Sharkey. Several cuts were once again reimagined in fresh tempos, contexts, medleys, and arrangements; “Brown Sugar” flipped over Fred Wesley’s “Four Play” remains a personal fave.
D’Angelo & The Vanguard — North Sea Jazz Festival — Rotterdam, The Netherlands —7/10/15
In the culture, the moment was heavier; D’Angelo responded with militant energy, more politically charged lyrics and intention than ever before. There was a righteous anger simmering beneath the surface, a resonant funk riding a psychedelic rock razor blade; a soulful resistance forged in the flames of Black history and contemporary struggle.
Between these storied eras, D’Angelo performed select sets that further peeled back the layers of his seemingly limitless artistry. For his first Stateside show in over a decade, D’Angelo finally materialized at the famed 2012 Bonnaroo Superjam with a backing band made up of members of The Vanguard and The Roots. The stalwarts dug deep into the funk-rock jukebox that delivered in patented D’Angelo revival style.
Questlove & D’Angelo SuperJam | Ep.3: Hit It and Quit It, “Funky Dollar Bill” (Funkadelic), “Hit It and Quit It” (Funkadelic) | Bonnaroo 2012
In 2013, Questlove and D teamed up for a pair of heart-filling duo shows dubbed Brothers In Arms. These instant classics saw the Soulquarian besties reignite their long-dormant, forever-brilliant bond, explore beloved Black musical terrain, and touch on a few D’Angelo chestnuts to boot. The hastily-announced, utterly enthralling Brooklyn Bowl throwdown in March—with a who’s who of maestros dotting the crowd—is long the stuff of legend, (I had the privilege to catch the second engagement at Philly’s TLA in that July, also an unforgettable affair.)
D’Angelo & Questlove Brothers In Arms — “Tell Me You Still Care” (S.O.S. Band) — Brooklyn Bowl — 3/4/13
[Video: Nelson George]
On two other special occasions, D’Angelo linked with The Roots (and a few trusty Vanguard backing vocalists) for a couple wildly different shows. Brooklyn’s AfroPunk event welcomed them in 2014 for a covers sesh that included a searing sit-in from Fishbone’s Angelo Moore. About two years later, a similar squadron coalesced for the lone Roots Picnic to go down in the Big Apple. October 2016’s blended family, which also included admitted D stan John Mayer, saw the group stick to D’Angelo’s album canon, busting out a few treasured deep cuts. That evening in Bryant Park would prove the last time I would catch D perform live.
In April 2022, D’Angelo performed his final act, an unannounced half-hour opening set for Dave Chappelle’s Netflix Is A Joke event at the Hollywood Bowl backed by a crew of familiar faces. In a stroke of cruel irony, this guy was languishing in a hotel merely a few miles away, while visiting LA for a weekend writing conference. If your boy only knew…
D’Angelo w/ The Roots & John Mayer — Roots Picnic — New York, NY — 10/1/16
[Video: Megan Elizabeth]
Black Pentecostal Church Influence
Despite the fact I grew up caucasian and Jewish in South Jersey, I’ve always been drawn to Black spiritual music, intrinsically moved by songs that sing the praises of Creator. Such penchants have led me to deeply embrace both reggae and gospel. The numerous elements of gospel embedded in D’Angelo’s music and live performances would only draw me further into his spell-casting, and prompted my interest in the nature of his Black Pentecostal upbringing.
Long before he became “D’Angelo,” Michael Eugene Archer was imbued with the raw, transformative power of Black Pentecostalism. From embryonic days playing piano in his pastor father’s church in Richmond, VA, and later playing in his maternal grandmother’s church, where she too was the pastor, D’angelo was exposed early and often to the immersive Pentecostal caress. Bearing witness to fiery brimstone passion and fervent worship, the churches didn’t just provide a backdrop for his music; gospel became the very foundation upon which his entire artistic world formed.
Learning to play multiple instruments in church, a young Michael would have been instilled with the fear of God for playing—or even enjoying—secular music. But, as he relayed to Tavis Smiley in a rare 2015 television interview, we can thank his grandmother for giving him permission to play secular music, even when family and church elders strictly forbid it.
D’Angelo Talks Church Upbringing With Tavis Smiley — 2015
[Video: Mom’s VHS Cabinet]
One of D’Angelo’s transformative gifts was porting the intense fervor and spirituality from Black Pentecostalism into the secular sound art he created. “Pentecostalism totally informs everything I do. When I’m on the stage, I bring that with me,” D told Smiley.
A beauty of the Pentecostal church is its embrace of the raw, imperfect human condition in the face of the divine. Much like tarrying—waiting expectantly for the holy spirit—the man took his precious time. Akin to testimony, D’Angelo’s songwriting is rooted in an unvarnished vulnerability. He was never afraid to bare his soul in song, whether litigating matters of the heart or tackling deeper political matters ala Black Messiah. This spiritual frankness, a willingness to explore the depths of his being, can be traced back to tenets of Pentecostalism.
D’Angelo’s vocal prowess and performance style reveled in controlled chaos, a black-satin smooth falsetto often buttressed with raspy, guttural exultations and ad-libs swimming in a chorus of stacked harmonies, like a layered a cappella church choir. Whether it was The Soultronics, The Vanguard, or any of his hybrid bands, D’Angelo always brought along backup vocalists. His intentions were to approximate classic gospel quartet harmonics, a tradition born from both the blues and spirituals.
D’Angelo & Soul Disciples — “Don’t Let Jesus Down” (Pilgrim Jubilees) > “Properties Of Propaganda” (Fishbone) — Oak Grove Baptist Church — Richmond, VA
[Video: jackplanetcity]
At its core, the Pentecostal church experience is a rhythmic, hypnotic event, with foot-stomping, hand-clapping, ecstatic expressions of emotion. D’Angelo’s music—particularly in the live element—would occasionally tap directly into that physical, all-consuming energy that connects body to spirit. A trademark of Pentecostal gospel is extended, filled climaxes, where the music continues to cook in a long, joyous, improvisational coda. Onstage, D’Angelo adopted this concept, with jams and medleys often building to an explosive, ecstatic, instrumental peak.
For evidence of these raucous revival elements at play, look no further than the classic 1997 television performance of “Lady” from The Chris Rock Show, alongside Raphael Saadiq, Ali Shaheed Muhammed, Questlove, and Spanky; the Essence Festival tapes the following year; throughout the high-voltage sets on the Voodoo Tour; or over 15 years later, the jubilant outro jam on “Brown Sugar” from Roots Picnic NYC with John Mayer in 2016.
D’Angelo, Ali Shaheed Muhammed, Raphael Saadiq, Spanky, Questlove — “Lady” — The Chris Rock Show — 1997
[Video: twinbreed]
D’Angelo Fans/Community
While it may come off a tad corny, something that’s really risen to the surface during the grieving process is how many friends D’Angelo helped us make along the way. Decades of dedication and dialogs have brought me dozens of D homies, countless late nights or long car rides testifying & evangelizing in the great Okayplayer tradition.
An abundance of thoughtful friends and peers from all corners of my life have reached out across the miles in the wake of his passing. Everybody is gutted and reeling. Yet we’re still checking on each other, purging the grief, trading treasured rare “treats” from the archives, and just unabashedly celebrating the profound greatness of this dearly departed legend. Online, the endless flow of stirring tributes and heartfelt goodbye letters has provided somewhat of a medicinal balm for the undercurrent of mourning, while occasionally cracking me open without warning.
In the aftermath of this news, I’ve also learned that pancreatic cancer was responsible for taking at least three of my friends’ fathers. D’Angelo’s death brought up deep trauma associated with losing their dads; his music forever linked with the most devastating loss of their lives.
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Meanwhile, my wife and I are just a couple weeks away from welcoming our firstborn to the world. D’Angelo’s music has played a major part in our love story; we both invoked him in our wedding vows. With the baby in utero, we had plans/flights to travel from the Bay back to Philly to experience D’Angelo together at Roots Picnic last spring, before his illness forced a cancellation.
However, this week it’s been nothing but D joints ringing out at the crib, and that kid has been thumpin’ around in mom’s belly to Questlove’s Dillafied kickdrum like nobody’s business. The circle of life continues.
D’Angelo — “Africa (Demo)”
[Video: Music For Listening]
A unicorn, conjurer, old soul, icon, virtuoso, trailblazer. Our humble king among men.
Thank you for talkin’ to me, Michael. From which you came was love, and that’s how it all should be.
words: B.Getz
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