If you're out late with someone you're even slightly
attracted to and D'Angelo's sophomore album Voodoo
plays nearby, you are in serious, serious danger.
Sexual rhythms and carnal vocal arrangements stir up lustful
trouble in the body, making thoughts of love come quicker
than Allen Iverson's shot release. With each listen, the
sweetly seductive sounds of Voodoo begin to have
the same effect as having the root really worked on you.
More importantly, Voodoo bespeaks D'Angelo's lofty
stature among his peers in the current R&B era. During
the '90s, R&B artists abandoned the idea of being a
band, becoming groups of singers with producers programming
beats, often including an eight-bar rap in the middle. Not
to say the genre is terrible--there are quite a few R&B
albums worth owning. Everyone from the penthouse to the
outhouse enjoys R. Kelly, and Jodeci crooned their way into
many a woman's heart. Others, such as Ginuwine and 112,
hit the end of the decade with smooth harmonies over tracks
laid down by Timbaland and the Hitmen.
Yet the majority of CDs falling into this category turn
out to be listless listening experiences, typical of a genre
some call "rap'n'bullshit." That's why much ado has been
made about the nouveau soul cats coming up in the latter
half of the '90s who went against the trends, performing
live with tight bands. Erykah Badu, Maxwell, Eric
Benet and Lauryn Hill provided the public with quality products
reminiscent of the old days, keeping stride with today's
youth.
Still, D'Angelo stands heads and shoulders above his contemporaries.
Voodoo arrives close to five years after his dope
debut, Brown Sugar, dropped in 1995. Critics, as
well as admirers, waited anxiously for the follow-up. The
young brother from Virginia turned out to be a perfectionist,
patiently bringing the album up to his standards. D'Angelo
gathered together hornmaster Roy Hargrove, drummer Ahmir
Thompson, Raphael Saddiq, Charlie Hunter and others. The
crew set up shop in Electric Lady Studios and did the whole
project in the house Jimi Hendrix built.
After spending a rumored 70-odd hours in jam sessions,
they culled a little over an hour for Voodoo. And
the influence of the great ones is heard in that short time:
the sincerity of Marvin Gaye, Al Green's testifying, James
Brown's proud funk, the thoughtfulness of Stevie Wonder
and the eroticism of Prince. Of course, Hendrix's presence
is felt all over the joint, from Hunter's guitar work on
"The Root" to the hiss coming from the analog equipment.
D'Angelo deftly combines the impact of his inspirations
and his days spent playing organ in his father's church
with his love of hip-hop, making the hardest of hardrocks
nod to Voodoo's beat. Songs flow continuously like
an underground mix tape, and hip-hop's elite--DJ Premier,
Method Man and Redman--add fire to the brother's second
album. However, the primary purpose of soul music rings
in D'Angelo's falsetto, bringing the calm appropriate for
bedroom behavior. An album such as Voodoo is not
to be slept on. I know what will be playing tonight when
I get home to my baby.
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Willamette Week | originally
published March 1,
2000
|
