D'Angelo died earlier this month after a battle with pancreatic cancer. The neo-soul legend left us with a relatively small discography -- just three studio albums in 20 years -- and his latter two albums, 2000's Voodoo and 2014's Black Messiah, both featured the Roots drummer Questlove. Along with fellow Roots member James Poyser and the late J Dilla, D'Angelo and Questlove also co-founded the Soulquarians, a collective of forward-thinking Black musicians that was active from 1999 to 2004. All of that is to say: Questlove has a lot to say about D'Angelo. Today he published a personal essay in Rolling Stone paying tribute to his frequent collaborator and longtime friend.
Questlove's essay brings us way back to 1993, when he first encountered D'Angelo in the studio. D'Angelo -- whose birth name, it's worth noting, is Michael Archer -- was working on Brown Sugar while the Roots were finishing up Do You Want More?!!!??! "Engineer Bob Power kept raving about some 'Mike' who was the second coming of Marvin Gaye, Al Green, and Frankie Beverly," Questlove writes. "Then 'Mike' walked in. Game over. His Timberland chukkas gangsta-leaned like the 'Smooth Criminal' video. No way THIS guy was the future in those dusty-ass Timbs. I gave him a pound and retreated to the break room to exploit the free long-distance phone. (Consistency check: A year later I’d initially dismiss J Dilla the same way. I’m a lucky man.)"
By 1996, Questlove had fallen in love with Brown Sugar, and he and D'Angelo became friends. The essay details numerous studio antics: "D’Angelo, to me, was one of the last pure artists in Black music. I know we sold the mysterious seriousness well, but the truth is -- we were a silly bunch."
Finally, Questlove reflects on his final moments with D'Angelo as his health declined, which lead the singer to cancel his headlining Roots Picnic set earlier this year. Questlove adds:
I have to say, the last weeks with him were probably the best for our friendship. Music was always the template for our communication. Now here we were in the hospital -- no soundproof separation booths, no drums, no keys, no instruments, no musicians. Nothing but just the two of us talking. About where our lives had been in the past five years or so. I’ll admit that the uncertain finality of it all was somewhat awkward for me. Is this visit gonna be my last visit? Is this concert gonna be the last one we watch together? Will this be the last J Dilla beat we lose our minds over? Man...since that day back in 1996, talking about our hometowns and high school and our churches and our fathers and how we escaped it all, we hadn’t talked all that deep.
Read the full tribute here.
