D'Angelo Voodoo (Virgin)
Reviewed by Christopher Gray, Fri., Feb. 18, 2000
Voodoo (Virgin)Single white male seeks female, age/race unimportant, for a candle-lit navigation of the erotic avenues and swampy byways of D'Angelo's Voodoo, possibly to be repeated many, many, many times. Must be willing to bump and grind, let your backbone slip, and pour this premium bottle of liquid sex all over that deliciously fine body of yours. We'll start off with a robust cabernet as "Playa Playa" unspools, followed by a savory slice of the "Devil's Pie" as we get our schwerve on to Method Man & Redman's limber rhyming on "Left & Right." Then we'll bed down on the purple sheets of "Send It On," exploring each other's pulsating pleasure zones as we sweat out all the "Chicken Grease." Languid, luscious kisses accompany "One Mo'gin" as we cool out to the jazz tones of Charlie Hunter and Roy Hargrove, our bodies locked in the rock-steady rhythm of the Roots' Ahmir Thompson's judicious drummery. The night will unfold as slow and measured as "The Root," and by the time D and Lauryn Hill revisit Roberta Flack for "Feel Like Makin' Love," we won't just be feelin' it -- we'll be doin' it (and doin' it well). As elegantly sculpted as its creator's famous pecs, Voodoo unlocks the brain's inner freak like an especially nimble Harry Whodini, but then preacher's kids were always a little on the horndog side. Expect a bumper crop of Thanksgiving babies this year, but whether or not any of them will carry the surname "Gray" is pretty much up to you dear, sweet, voluptuous readers.