https://rollingstone.com.br/noticia/a-ascensao-recuo-e-ressurreicao-de-dangelo/

https://rollingstone.com.br/noticia/a-ascensao-recuo-e-ressurreicao-de-dangelo/

How the soul artist studied the greats of music — from James Brown to Prince — and became one of them

D’Angelo and Questlove were sitting on the sofa of a luxurious hotel watching, or rather analyzing, the video of a performance by James Brown in 1964. D and Quest They watched every gesture, every dance step and light signal, and every time the “Boss of Soul Music” subtly signaled the band to do something.

This scene happened 25 years ago. I was in the room, covering D’Angelo for the Rolling Stone. He was, at that moment, one of the hottest artists in the world. His second album, Voodoohad established him as an undeniable musical genius. He was the pinnacle of the modern soul genre — deep, powerful, sexual, sensual and intimate. It was exactly what attracted so many listeners to soul music: an album of long grooves, falsetto serenades and stomach-tickling bass. And the album wasn’t just a compilation of songs, it was a declaration of war by D’Angelo for the future of music.

D’Angelo told me that he saw the situation this way: the music was becoming overly commercial, and Voodoo it was an attempt to steer artists away from that, encouraging them to follow their inner voice—wherever it led them. Voodoo also aimed to draw the attention of Princehoping to convince “The Purple One” (nickname of Princeor “O Roxo”, in free translation) to collaborate with D and Quest on an album — essentially, to serve as an audition for Prince — but that’s another story.

D he was on top of the world—genuinely a music star—and yet he was sitting there, studying the greats like a hopeful student. Not just Brownbut also Stevie Wonder, Prince, Al Green, Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye — the canon of soul music, in a sense. They called these predecessors “Yodas”, and the videos were called “treats”. That day, Questlove asked D: “What would your life be like if you hadn’t seen that candy in the George Clinton?” D replied: “Totally different.”

Watching him closely analyze older musicians helped me understand a little about where his genius came from. D He was a dedicated student of his craft and a hard worker, even though he was incredibly talented. In fact, he was a natural from such an early age that his older brother told me he never imagined it would happen. D I would be anything other than a musician.

D He grew up playing in a Pentecostal church in Virginia and went to New York as a teenager in search of a record deal as part of a trio. The record company said, “We just want him.” His debut album, Brown Sugarleft everyone on alert: there was a new soul giant in town. The eponymous single—a provocative dialogue about his love of marijuana—was among the most played songs of the summer of 1995. But some felt the project felt unfinished, as if the tracks were more sketches than complete compositions. Five years later, D erased any doubts with his second album, Voodoo. It was a monumental achievement that made it clear that he was not just a disciple of the soul legends, he was also their equal.

But Voodoo caused a problem.

The song “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” was the masterpiece of D’Angelo: a swirling groove of erotic funk, so intense that it seemed possible to get pregnant just by listening to it. Your manager, Dominique Treniercreated a clip in which D he would appear alone on a stage, with the camera offering close-ups of his body — from his braids to just below his navel. It would be something simple, sensual and powerful.

This would be the culmination of years of work on his body. When D dropped Brown Sugarhe was overweight. Over the next five years, while working in Voodoohe changed his diet and trained obsessively. When it came time to record the video for “Untitled”, D He was in almost superhuman physical shape. But he didn’t want to make the video. His limousine stopped in front of the studio, and he refused to get out. I was nervous. Trenier went out and sat with him until finally D felt ready.

They burst onto the scene and created one of the most iconic music videos of all time. The video hit the culture like a neutron bomb and excited the public. Was that the most handsome man in the world? Perhaps. The look alone was enough to D’Angelo an even greater projection. But then came the problem: after “Untitled”, people began to see the singer in a different way. At his shows, fans shouted for him to take off his shirt. This was acceptable, but he wanted to be seen as a musician.

D studied music as a graduate student and then spent five years working on Voodoo. He wanted it to be all about songs—to convey that he was a great musician—but fans screamed so loudly to see his abs that it was impossible to hear the music. He felt demoted from genius to sex symbol. Then he rebelled, disappearing. We spent years missing you. His third and final album, Black Messiahwas released in 2014, more than a decade later.

Voodoo remains a powerful achievement. The album will be remembered as a source of inspiration for many, proving that he perhaps persevered in the war he fought with such courage. D’Angelo reminded the world that it is possible to succeed by listening to your own muse, ignoring industry trends and offering audiences a truly innovative sound.

Now, D’Angelo is gone, and when I listen to his musical descendants — artists like Frank Ocean, HER and SZA — it’s like seeing beautiful flowers bloom from the musical seeds he planted. In other words, in the long run, he won.

Source: Rollingstone

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