DâAngelo is free.
Watching him sing (and growl and scream) and move around the stage last night at the Showboxâbetween his glittery, silver guitar and keyboard, through choreographed dance moves with his back-up singers (including a few perfectly executed mic stand tricks), in and out of various capes and large fedorasâwas to watch a grown-ass man fully inhabit his body with palpable joy. Black liberation is urgent and real.
Whatever psychological and physical demons DâAngelo has battled over the last 15 years, they werenât holding him back last night. Halfway through "Ain't That Easy," the opening track on Black Messiah which he and his band the Vanguard performed a rousing, 12-minute rendition of to open last nightâs showâI turned to Larry Mizell Jr. and said, "I'm not sure where we even go from here."
Where exactly DâAngelo went is impossible for me to fully describe. It was as much a feeling as a physical place, and the journey was long and satisfying. Every song on the (relatively short) setlist was drawn out into feverish, 10-plus-minute spells filled with slow builds, plenty of teases, and multiple climaxes. Grown women (and men) were reduced to wailing puddles.
To be honest, whenever I listen to Voodoo or Black Messiah, the production leaves me a little frustrated. I always want more DâAngelo. Unlike 1995âs Brown Sugar, his honeyed voice sounds buried in layers, just another instrument among many, no more or less important than the filthy bass line of "Devilâs Pie."
But at the end of the night, for the last bars of âUntitled,â which lasted either fifteen rapturous minutes or forever, it was all DâAngelo. One by one, each member of the ten-piece Vanguard walked off stage, leaving him alone at his keyboard, his unmistakable voice asking the darkness, one final time, âHow does it feel?â