Saw a special concert Sunday night. One I had waited for since I was a teenager. One the world had waited for since the last millennium.

D’Angelo is one of those once-in-a-generation artists. I was fortunate to catch him at a small club in New Jersey, and in top form. Gone are the drunken problems, the legal tangles, and years of creative blocks. This man is a magician, a five-star chef, and his band cooks.

An amazing comeback story. Amid years of healing wounds unseen, with paralysis and silence, the man picked up a guitar. He came back stronger, with a faith in himself and his craft. It will make an Oscar-winning movie in twenty years or so.

He also happens to be one of the greatest songwriters in history. At the end of the much-lauded song “The Charade” (“all we wanted was a chance to talk/’stead we only got outlined in chalk”), with all of its rage spilling out in a wave of feedback, I could feel everything he had poured into its craft chord by chord and syllable, from Ferguson to Staten Island and Trayvon Martin and back again. It moved several in the back, near the bar on a Sunday night, to tears.

But the best part of all is the joy. He is clearly enjoying himself, and the crowd loves him for this unfettered revelry in his Art.

D’Angelo is an artist that can move mountains. He better come back ’round.

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