“Brown Sugar” by D’Angelo
Records for Lovers Week continues with one of the sexiest R&B records ever released.
Programming note: I got married this past weekend (!), and, as a result, I'm taking a step back from content creation until next Monday. I thought I'd keep this week's slate of album recommendations mood-appropriate by celebrating romance in all its musical forms. I'm calling it "Records for Lovers Week" because I'm cheesy like that.
Multiple genres, some hidden gems, maybe a classic or two—hope you enjoy it!
Hello! 😊👋
Welcome to a new edition of the Daily Music Picks newsletter!
Today’s music pick is the sparkling, sexy debut from a then-21-year-old D’Angelo, one of neo-soul and R&B's most gifted talents.
Genre: Neo-Soul, R&B
Label: EMI
Release Date: July 3, 1995
Vibe: 😍
Few album openers set the tone and mood better than the title track on Brown Sugar, the 1995 debut from R&B luminary D’Angelo. A stuttering organ gives way to vintage-sounding drums that are deep in the pocket, followed by the throbbing falsetto that’d become the singer’s trademark. The lyrics, which are a loving ode to weed, not the dark-skinned woman they purport to be about, don’t hit your ears so much as fill them with a soothing balm, turning a simple-but-catchy R&B creation into a genuinely hypnotic listening experience. The rest of the record falls in line from there, managing to sound innocent in one breath, like on the gorgeous “Me and Those Dreamin’ Eyes of Mine,” and downright nasty in the next—I mean, if you title a track “Jonz in My Bonz,” you’re sending the kind of message that’s impossible for the object of your desire to misinterpret.
Remarkably, D’Angelo was only 21 when Brown Sugar was released to both commercial success and critical acclaim. He burst onto the scene fully formed as an artist who was perfectly at ease drawing on the works of greats like Stevie Wonder and Curtis Mayfield without tripping over his feet. It’s why his cover of “Cruisin’” isn’t an insult to Smokey Robinson and why “Lady” could’ve been a hit single for Robinson during his Quiet Storm period. Nearly 30 years on, D’Angelo’s stature in the R&B community has reached almost mythic proportions despite having only three LPs to his name. His enigmatic side is part of his appeal, particularly on this one. At that point, there was no cult of personality, no legends of perfectionism weighing him down. On Brown Sugar, there’s only the sultry vocals and near-perfect instrumentation slathered in 70s and 80s-era nostalgia.
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