D'Angelo
Voodoo
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D'Angelo
Voodoo
Virgin, 2000
RiYL: Marvin Gaye's What's Goin' On, Isaac Hayes, Toni Tony Tone |
And those songs -- those harmonies -- what the hell? Tracks like Destiny's Child's "Bills, Bills, Bills" and Aaliyah's "Are You That Somebody?" practically reinvent popular song structure from the ground up. And in flat opposition to rock, it's the most experimental, odd stuff that achieves the most sales.
Of course, I'm not suggesting rock listeners give up on their genre altogether. R&B has many unique problems of its own. The best producers tend to be somewhat mercenary, and spread their best work across many artists. Albums in rhythm and blues are almost a lost art. And the singers themselves often have little to no involvement in songwriting or even song selection. There's only a few musicians -- Maxwell, Lauryn Hill, Missy Elliott -- who take control of their own careers, write their own material, keep the production work consistent, and make albums as opposed to singles.
Add to that list D'Angelo, a gifted singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist whose Voodoo is one of the most enjoyable start-to-finish contemporary R&B records I've ever heard. Rather than aiming for hit status, the (long) tracks on this record build their grooves, ease their way into your mind, and keep going until you've lost track of everything but the beat. Verses and choruses are almost entirely absent from Voodoo, the album coasts more on a James Brown vamps-and-variation vibe.
"Devil's Pie" is a hip-hop oriented tune with driving programmed drums, slashing bass, and subtle double-tracked vocals. "Spanish Joint" is funk/jazz, with horn breaks and guitar by prodigy Charlie Hunter. "Left & Right"'s guitar hook is outsleazed by filthy raps from the smoked-out Super Twins, Method Man and Redman. If the Princelike "Feel Like Makin' Love" doesn't get you in the mood, you need Viagra.
Voodoo is the antithesis of most modern R&B albums, like Marvin Gaye's What's Going On or Isaac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul, it's best heard from beginning to end. No real hooks or lyrics burst out at you, but that's not really D'Angelo's cause. He's not in this for one fleeting moment -- he's in it for the long run. At 78 minutes, Voodoo can be something of a marathon for the listener. But if you stop worrying about the running length and start listening to the grooves, you'll be amazed how fast D's funk flies by.
MARK T.R. DONOHUE | Mark T.R. Donohue is a prolific freelance writer whose areas of expertise include Rockies baseball, video games, genre television, English soccer, and pub rock. He lives in Colorado, where he cultivates the largest and creepiest private collection of Alyson Hannigan memorabilia in the Mountain West.