35 songs and three studio albums was all we got from D’Angelo. Called the “founding father of neo-soul” by Apple Music, the Virginia singer passed away on Oct. 14 after a battle with pancreatic cancer. While not the most prolific of artists, it was that scarcity that made every one of his tracks special. From the youthful vibrancy of “Brown Sugar,” to the chaotic intimacy of “Voodoo,” to the political consciousness of “Black Messiah,’ D’Angelo was forever changing, never contained by genre or label.
As unique of a musical talent as he was, much of D’Angelo’s career was unfortunately defined by the time he spent away from music. After the release of “Voodoo” in 2000, itself a product of several years of writer’s block, D’Angelo would essentially disappear from the industry, not returning until his next record in 2014. The primary reason attributed for D’Angelo’s absence was the music video for his hit single “Untitled (How Does It Feel),” which featured him shirtless, leading him to be overly sexualized by fans, who prioritized his image over his music. “It took away his confidence,” said tour manager Alan Leeds in an interview with Spin Magazine, “he [wasn’t] convinced why any given fan is supporting him.”
This treatment, where D’Angelo was becoming more of a sex symbol than an artist, left him both disillusioned with stardom and turning to substance abuse to cope. At the same time, he was dealing with record label pressure to make new songs and a falling out with his girlfriend. “He’d basically hit rock bottom,” commented Gary Harris, the A&R who first signed D’Angelo, in the same Spin article.
For many, that would’ve been the end of the story. Countless musicians have either retired or lost their lives due to the pressure of being a celebrity. His status as a Black superstar only furthered the weight on his shoulders. As Chris Rock, who spent time with D’Angelo as he worked on “Voodoo”, told GQ: “If you’re a Black ballerina, you represent the race,” he said, “you have responsibilities that go beyond your art. How dare you just be excellent?”
So when it was reported in 2008 that he was back in shape and working on new music, it was like D’Angelo had defied the odds. He was slowly coming back, rebirthing himself in the studio to return rejuvenated. Channeling the revolutionary Beethoven, D’Angelo said he “wasn’t making music for [anyone]. [He] was making music for the ages.” Rumors around a new album continued, with excitement increasing after a European tour where D’Angelo started to look like himself again. “Black Messiah,” released in December 2014, would immediately receive critical praise from publications and eventually won two awards at the 2016 GRAMMY’s. The album, an explicitly political blend of funk, rock and R&B, was a statement: D’Angelo was back; more mature, just as talented.
In an internet era where it’s easier than ever for listeners to separate themselves from artists through a screen, D’Angelo’s life is a powerful reminder of the humanity of celebrities. Even at the peak of his popularity, he wasn’t untouchable. He grappled with mental health and self consciousness in the same way that many of us do. Despite his commercial success, it’s remarkable that D’Angelo never succumbed to pressure with his music. He only released his music when he wanted to, and because of that, it leaves his discography pure, untainted by record label intervention. D’Angelo’s influence will always live on musically, but his career should also be remembered as a testament to an artist’s ability to resist the dehumanizing nature of fame, and to come back from the darkest of places. D’Angelo broke the system, dying free of its shackles.
