A Decade of Black Messiah: D’Angelo’s Anthem for an Unfinished Revolution

D’Angelo’s Black Messiah continues to resonate a decade later as a raw, urgent masterpiece born out of resistance and reckoning.

The image features a turntable in the foreground playing a vinyl record, with the album Black Messiah by D'Angelo and the Vanguard prominently displayed in the back right. The album cover showcases a grayscale photograph of a crowd in motion, evoking themes of activism. On the left, another album cover with stylized artwork of D’Angelo is visible but not the focal point of the composition. The setup highlights the appreciation for vinyl records and the music of D'Angelo.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a decade since D’Angelo and the Vanguard blessed us with Black Messiah. Black Messiah landed with the weight of a movement and the immediacy of a siren. Released December 15 2014, the album felt less like a comeback and more like a revelation—an artist finding his purpose in the chaos of the world.

Released almost 15 years after the sensual thunder of Voodoo and nearly two decades since the soulful unveiling of Brown Sugar, this wasn’t just a return—it was a statement. D’Angelo himself described feeling an almost spiritual obligation to release the album when he did. The deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown, and the protests that followed, hung heavy in the air. In interviews, he spoke of the moment’s weight and how the escalating crisis of police brutality against Black Americans demanded a voice like his to amplify the pain, resistance, and resilience of his people.

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That urgency threads through Black Messiah—it hums in the restless grooves of “The Charade,” a song both defiant and mournful, a mirror held up to systemic violence. It spills out in “Till It’s Done (Tutu),” where environmental collapse and societal decay tangle in a way only D’Angelo can make sound beautiful.

This wasn’t the D’Angelo of honeyed seduction in Brown Sugar, or the funk-worshipping, time-suspending alchemy of Voodoo. Voodoo thrived on its organic, jam-session essence, but Black Messiah was jagged, raw, and urgent. Distorted guitars, shadowy basslines, and layered vocals carried the weight of unrest. It was a protest, an unapologetic call to arms.

This album leaned into the idea of imperfection—each track a smouldering, unpolished gem. “The Charade” provided protest through poetry, while “Sugah Daddy” radiated with understated intensity. And “Really Love”? It’s all desire wrapped in strings, a reminder that tenderness is its own act of resistance.

Ten years later, Black Messiah is as vital as ever. It reminds us that music can shoulder the burdens of the world while still offering release. It’s funk as survival and soul as testimony. A decade on, we’re still marching to its groove—and its call.

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0 thoughts on “A Decade of Black Messiah: D’Angelo’s Anthem for an Unfinished Revolution”

  1. It’s an important piece of work and you describe the emotion it evokes to a T. “Really Love” is my favorite track. It breathtaking to me every time i hear it. The intro of the song sets the mood with the Spanish guitar and the sexy lady voice. By the time the beat comes in, I’m already vibin. I could go on… happy anniversary to this masterpiece 🎵

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