2000 Rewind: Remembering D’Angelo’s Voodoo
Y’all ready to relive Y2K? All year long the Rewind column will revisit the year 2000, celebrating great releases that will mark 25 years in 2025. I’ll be joined by a host of old friends as we look back at a new millennium of music.
It took half a decade but January 2000 we FINALLY got the follow up to D’Angelo’s classic debut Brown Sugar. But this album had a much different taste that what those original fans were accustomed to. Brandon O’Sullivan AKA THEO of Shatter the Standards returns to talk about one of the most celebrated albums of its era, that infamous video and D’Angelo’s legacy 25 years later.
Brandon’s Voodoo song ranking
1. “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”
2. “Spanish Joint”
3. “One Mo’Gin”
4. “The Root”
5. “Devil’s Pie”
6. “Africa”
7. “Send it On”
8. “Playa Playa”
9. “Chicken Grease”
10. “Feel Like Makin’ Love”
11. “The Line”
12. “Greatdayndamornin’/Booty”
13. “Left & Right”
Edd’s Voodoo song ranking
1. “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”
2. “Send It On”
3. “Africa”
4. “One Mo’Gin”
5. “Spanish Joint”
6. “Greatdayndamornin’/Booty”
7. “Devil’s Pie”
8. “Playa Playa”
9. “Feel Like Makin’ Love”
10. “The Root”
11. “Left & Right”
12. “The Line”
13. “Chicken Grease”
What were your initial thoughts on Voodoo when you first heard it way back then?
Brandon: Finally, I can discuss an album with core memories! I was in Jamaica around ‘03 or ‘04 when I first heard this in its entirety multiple times (it has to be the former). Imagine the afternoon warmth in the air, the distant hum of conversations, and the scent of dinner simmering—maybe jerk chicken or curry—wafting through. I’m getting hungry right now as I’m typing this. That’s the beauty of this LP: it’s as much about the communal spirit as it is about impeccable musicianship, so hearing it in a family-oriented, food-filled setting is a perfect synergy. Now that I’m older, boy, a lot is going on musically.
Edd: First off, I’m feeling a type of way: We’ve been doing this Rewind series for so long that we’ve reached the point where Theo is old enough to hear these albums during their proper time periods. Not only am I old, now HE’S getting old.
And this is why my knees now sound like pork rinds when I stand up
But back to Voodoo: If you’re a longtime SoulInStereo.com head, you know my thoughts on this beloved album .. I just don’t love it that much. Like most R&B fans in the 90s, I was a big admirer of D’Angelo’s debut Brown Sugar and I was so excited to hear his long-awaited follow up. And … I couldn’t get into it. It wasn’t the smooth R&B I was expecting, it was a thick, gooey molasses of funk and jazz, way more groovy than melodic. I knew it wasn’t BAD, it just wasn’t for me.
Years later, as I’d evolve into the Internet’s Only Unbiased Music Reviewer™, I’d listen to the album time and again – appreciating it more and more for its boldness but still not feeling it enough to make it into my rotation. And that’s fine. Album Reviewer Edd can recognize the brilliance of Voodoo, but Music Fan Edd never truly fell in love with this project. But that’s the beauty of music – it speaks to us in different ways.
Let’s talk about the best song!
Brandon: “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”
It was a no-brainer for me since D’Angelo channeled Prince here. It’s steeped in classic ’70s soul but still brims with a sensual modern edge. D’Angelo’s hushed delivery and smoldering guitar lines make for a timeless slow jam that captures the album’s passion and attention to detail. I’m still thrown off by how the song cuts off abruptly.
Edd: “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”
I worried that going with the big hit single as my top choice would be seen a basic move, but hey, Theo named the same song as his No. 1 so you can throw rocks at both of us.
“Untitled” as No. 1 may be the obvious pick but it’s obvious because, well, it’s right. Yeah, it’s easily the most accessible song on the project because it’s the closest to Brown Sugar-era D, but it’s still a bit of an anomaly for its time. The slinky production and D’Angelo’s breathy performance was nothing like the other “slow jams” of its era. It felt like a 70s throwback but completely fresh and unique. Even today, 25 years later, when that electric guitar hits, your soul is stirred. It’s a masterpiece for sure, one that even I can’t deny.
What’s the best video NOT named “Untitled (How Does It Feel)?”
Brandon: “Left & Right”
This question genuinely cracks me up because, if you know you know, the “Untitled” video wasn’t for us as men, and it was a game-changer for better and worse. It was for the ladies. “Left & Right” is the only answer here. It may not be on rotation and the weakest song on the entire album, but it’s got that late-’90s/ early-2000s hip-hop flair—a looseness that contrasts the album’s overall slow-burn aesthetic. And it’s BLACK AF.
Edd: “Left & Right”
Honestly the only song not named “Untitled” that I remembered was a single was “Devil’s Pie,” and I don’t remember an official video for that one. Besides, when you have an video as infamous as “Untitled,” pretty much everything else gets overshadowed.
But there WERE other singles, just not too many memorable videos. “Send it On” is one of those chosen few songs I’ve enjoyed since 2000, although the video is the dreaded “concert tour clip show” that always disappointed me in the 90s. That means “Left and Right” wins by default, even though it’s also the dreaded Concert Tour Clip Show, but through the eyes of someone suffering from CTE.
This album had a decent amount of singles but which song would you add to the list?
Brandon: “Spanish Joint”
“Spanish Joint” feels tailor-made for single status. Its marriage of jazz flourishes (courtesy of Roy Hargrove’s co-writing), and neo-soul funk hits that sweet spot between vibrant and accessible. The horns pop in a way that hints at a danceable Latin undercurrent, the percussion is as crisp as fluid, and the guitar lines just glide. It’s that rare track that showcases D’Angelo’s range—vocally, instrumentally, and stylistically—while still sounding like it could ignite any summer cookout or radio lineup. It might’ve drawn even more ears into Voodoo’s entrancing universe if it had been pushed as a single.
Edd: “Spanish Joint”
Voodoo isn’t an album built for radio play – it was clearly constructed to be a wholistic listening experience. It loses a lot of its charm if you attempt to cherry pick tracks from its runtime. Truthfully, the only track that could even be considered for radio play would be “Spanish Joint,” and it’s all due to its lively production and D’Angelo’s energetic delivery. I’m still not sure it would have worked as a single – it would need a shorter runtime, the label would probably want to throw Beanie Sigel or some other 2000s MC on it for that hip-hop cred – but it’s addictive production is the best bet to recapture that “Untitled” magic.
What’s the most underrated song?
Brandon: “One Mo’Gin”
For me, “One Mo’Gin” claims that spot, even though “Africa” comes close. It’s often overshadowed by tracks that have flashier hooks or more overtly complex arrangements, but “One Mo’Gin” epitomizes what makes Voodoo so timeless: a slow- burning groove, melodic subtleties that reveal themselves gradually, and an almost meditative feel that draws you in deeper with each listen. D’Angelo’s vocals have a heartfelt intimacy—a reflective tone that feels emotionally enveloping once you lock into it. The subtle layering of instrumentals is equally captivating. It’s one of those songs that might not knock you over initially, but it lingers in your thoughts long after the album stops spinning.
Edd: “One Mo’Gin”
Agree with Theo on this one – “One Mo’Gin” is another of those standouts that has stuck with me over the years, one of the few tracks I revisit regularly. The brilliance is in its simplicity, a warm, heartfelt groove that quietly burrows itself into your brain and takes up residence. It’s not flashy – few songs on this album are – but there’s such a charm and earnestness about it that makes it feel so sincere.
What’s the best vocal performance on the project?
Brandon: “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”
If you’re talking purely about D’Angelo’s vocal fireworks, “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” is the standout performance on Voodoo. It’s an outright showcase of his range, from his tender falsetto all the way down to that signature, smoky rasp. Throughout the track, he alternates between near-whispers and impassioned belting, evoking classic Prince but still sounding undeniably like D’Angelo. The way he bends and stretches notes —especially in the final minutes—feels raw, intimate, and downright spiritual. It’s the moment on Voodoo where his voice is front and center, no question, and it resonates as a timeless neo-soul statement.
Edd: “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”
Once again, no contest. Some of y’all get fixated on that video (do you, boo) but I was always entranced by the vocal showcase. D’Angelo’s performance is like a pot of water on a stove – it starts mellow and still, slowly gaining more steam as those vocals ripple. By the time we reach that crescendo at the end, D’Angelo is at a fever pitch and those vocals are truly unleashed, completely boiling over. The notes aren’t even pitch-perfect, they’re raspy and raw. But that just adds to the grittiness that defines the overall project.
Y’all have heard me complain countless times about the lack of emotion in modern R&B, and how tracks no longer have the peaks and valleys that make vocal performances so memorable. Vocalists, I’m begging y’all to study this track. It’s an unforgettable seven-minute journey.
Which track features the best production?
Brandon: “Spanish Joint”
Tough call—each track is meticulously crafted—but “Spanish Joint” might just take the cake. Co-written with jazz trumpeter Roy Hargrove, it’s a microcosm of everything that makes Voodoo special: layers of instrumentation that flow in and out, drum grooves that feel both loose and laser-focused, and guitar and horn flourishes that give it an unshakeable spark. Maybe it’s because I replayed it a few hundred times that I lost count. It’s a masterclass blending jazz, funk, and neo-soul into a single, irresistible track that oozes personality and style.
Edd: “Spanish Joint”
Three for three, playa! Nothing on Voodoo is poorly produced, obviously, but, in terms of production, most of the tracks kinda settle into one steady groove. It’s up to D’Angelo to use his vocals to keep the experience dynamic. But “Spanish Joint” is one of the few instances where the production itself feels like a living, breathing element. Just as Theo said, it successfully marries so several different production styles together into one experience. The horns, the drums, the congas – there’s a entire cacophony of sounds that makes it one of the most memorable scores on the project.
The shift in sound from Brown Sugar to Voodoo was a risk. Did it pay off?
Brandon: From a purely commercial standpoint, Voodoo might not have churned out as many straightforward hits as Brown Sugar, but it was a massive win artistically. D’Angelo took a serious gamble, leaning harder into live jam sessions, unorthodox patterns, and deep-pocket grooves. That approach demanded more patience from listeners (depending on who you’re dissing this with)—but it also created an album that felt like nothing else in R&B at the time. While it initially threw some fans for a loop, Voodoo has aged beautifully, solidifying its place as a neo-soul cornerstone and influencing countless artists who embraced its warm, improvisational style. In other words, yes—the risk absolutely paid off. This album can come out today, and it STILL fits in line with what‘s out (mainly in the indie R&B space).
If you consider how artists/groups like Mac Ayres, VanJess, Tom Misch, or JMSN approach sultry melodies and silky production, you can trace a direct line back to D’Angelo’s penchant for groove-heavy minimalism and live, “in-the-room” instrumentation. And when you look at projects like Janelle Monáe’s The ArchAndroid or Solange’s A Seat at the Table, you see echoes of Voodoo in the way they interweave personal reflection with heady experimentation. Beyond that, Voodoo also impacted gospel-infused releases like Ty Tribbett & G.A.’s Life. The syncopated cadences, layered vocal harmonies, and raw emotion that define D’Angelo’s work opened doors for faith- based music (also, hi, Cleo Sol) to explore new tones and textures. This set the stage for the wave of boundary-pushing, jazz-tinged, deeply soulful music that followed in the new millennium.
Edd: The short answer is yes. But if you asked me this in 2000, my answer would have been a hearty “playa please.” As fans, we have a bad habit of wanting our faves to be frozen in time, to ONLY release music like the music they released when we became fans. Any deviation from that is a betrayal of our trust. In fact, that mindset is actually a betrayal of the fandom.
Artists should be allowed to create, to grow and expand. And while Voodoo wasn’t a diamond-selling mega-smash short term, it was hugely influential for the genre of R&B long term – Theo named many of the R&B and even gospel projects that benefited. The risk paid off and it moved the industry forward. Not a bad legacy at all. And speaking of legacy…
Has D’Angelo’s infrequent releases hurt his legacy?
Brandon: It’s tempting to say that releasing music so sporadically damages a musician’s momentum, but in D’Angelo’s case, the rarity of his output has arguably added to his mystique rather than hurt his legacy. Yes, he’s gone long stretches without new material— between Voodoo and Black Messiah, for instance—but those extended hiatuses have also given his work an almost mythic quality in R&B and neo-soul circles. The die-hards spend years dissecting and praising each album because there’s no steady trickle of releases to overshadow the last one.
Of course, from a commercial standpoint, regularly putting out new music can keep an artist’s name more firmly in the mainstream conversation. But if D’Angelo’s aim has always been more about genuine creativity and less about sustaining a standard pop career, then his infrequent releases haven’t truly hindered his artistic reputation. In fact, his select discography— Brown Sugar, Voodoo, and Black Messiah—has each been hailed as a creative evolution. Every time he resurfaces, it’s a cultural event, and that sense of occasion fuels a cult-like reverence. So while he’s not as ubiquitous as some contemporaries, his legacy remains strong precisely because he pops up only when he has something substantial to say.
Edd: I know y’all hate when I say this, but this is a case where a strong argument can be made for both sides.
Theo’s point is sound – the infrequent releases have led to the mystique of D’Angelo, which has become such a poignant part of his legacy that the TV show Atlanta even had an episode about it. In this era of social media providing instant access to your fave’s personal life and intimate thoughts, there’s something powerful about an artist disappearing for years, only to return on their terms. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder and overexposure has hurt many modern-day careers.
*COUGH*Drake*COUGH*
But in D’Angelo’s case, I do think he’s become a little too inconspicuous. He typically only re-emerges once a musical generation, with each a project (in my eyes at least) a little less impactful than the last. So now we’re at the point where today’s R&B fans basically have to hear stories about how great/cool/important D’angelo was without experiencing it in real time, which unfortunately slowly chips away at an artist’s legacy.
Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not demanding that D’Angelo drop three 38-track albums this year to make up for lost time. Flooding the market for visibility’s sake will not aid his legacy. As a longtime fan, I respect that we only hear from D’Angelo when he really has something to day. But the longer he says quiet, the more likely he’s forgotten. Sadly, it’s the way of the musical world.
Now, the eternal question: Brown Sugar or Voodoo or Black Messiah: What’s his best album?
Brandon: It’s tough to deny that Voodoo is a high-water mark—not just for D’Angelo, but for neo-soul as a whole. Whether it’s his absolute best, however, often depends on how you vibe with each of his albums, but nobody with a brain will say Black Messiah as their #1. Brown Sugar’s immediate charm and classic soul-meets-hip-hop hooks are enough to make it a favorite for many people; it’s easier to digest on the first few spins and marked a real turning point in R&B when it dropped.
Voodoo, on the other hand, asks you to slow down and settle into a deeper groove. There’s a hazy, jam-session quality to it that doesn’t always click right away. If you’re used to crisp radio cuts and straightforward melodies, Voodoo can feel challenging. It plays with syncopation and leaves space for instruments to breathe, which creates a mesmerizing — but at times meandering — atmosphere. And that’s precisely why so many modern artists treat it like a bible for boundary-pushing R&B: the production choices, the layered vocals, and the live feel opened up new ways to approach soul music.
So is it his best? For me, absolutely. Voodoo may not have the easy accessibility of Brown Sugar, but it stands as a kind of masterpiece that influenced an entire wave of artists who discovered new possibilities in its grooves. If you give yourself the time to sink into its murky, hypnotic world, you’ll hear exactly why so many people cherish it as D’Angelo’s crowning achievement.
Edd: I know a lot of people love Black Messiah but it’s easily the lesser of the trio. So this is a convo between Brown Sugar and Black magic.
Aight, so I’ve made clear during this retrospective that I don’t love Voodoo. As a historian of music and objective reviewer, I highly respect it. Still, when I put Voodoo side by side with Brown Sugar – in my opinion, one of the greatest albums of the 90s and arguably the greatest neo-soul record ever – Voodoo loses every time.
Voodoo’s biggest strength is its unconformity, D’Angelo’s willingness to rip up the 2000s R&B playbook and rewrite everything in his own image. The unconventional song structure, the heavy, murky mood – it’s daring and brilliant, but not easy to digest. Brown Sugar is a meal that goes down much more smoothly, with much higher musical highs and a clearer vision. I might give Voodoo the edge for stronger songwriting, but Brown Sugar’s harmonies just stick to my ribs better.
At the end of the day, it comes down to personal preference. Voodoo is a more technically proficient and imaginative experience, Brown Sugar is a more accessible and inviting listen. I’m Brown Sugar brother, but even I’ll admit that every time I listen to Voodoo, I fall under its spell a little more deeply than the last. That’s the makings of a great album.
Who do you agree with, Brandon or Edd? Talk about it below, and share your memories of Voodoo too.
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