‘I Want to Have a Mystique’: D’Angelo Remembered by Early Publicist

Family, friends, industry colleagues and fans are still trying to process the untimely death of musical wunderkind D’Angelo. The Grammy-winning icon was laid to rest last weekend (Nov. 1) during a private homegoing service in Henrico, Virginia.

Among those grieving is Karen Taylor Bass. As the publicist behind the campaign for D’Angelo’s lightning-in-a-bottle debut album Brown Sugar, she witnessed first-hand the singer-songwriter-musician’s trailblazing ascent. Bass — an award-winning media strategist who now works in the corporate wellness arena as a certified 500 (AYT) Advance Yoga instructor — recalls the man who just wanted to play the music he loved… and how the industry failed him.

Meeting D’Angelo

I met D’Angelo when he was around 19. I was a publicist and excited to have my first project, which was a huge priority for A&R VP Gary Harris, rest in peace. He’d signed D’Angelo to EMI Music. I’d been with EMI for almost two years then. I clearly remember how excited Gary was about D’Angelo. At one point while D’Angelo was still recording his debut album, Gary said, “I want you to listen to someone special.” It was so soulful, so exciting; I’d not heard anything special like that in recent years. During a corporate meeting with all of the departments, D’Angelo was described as “the guy that’s going to change things; he’s got next.”

A team was soon assembled to spearhead the project. In addition to Gary and I, there was Gary Beech (project manager), Dave Rosas (radio) and Eric Turner (sales). None of us, except for Gary Harris, had met D’Angelo. He was a PK [preacher’s kid] and sang at his mom’s Pentecostal church. The team went to Richmond, Virginia, his hometown. We met him, his mom and dad, and his brothers Luther and Rodney. We also got the chance to visit D’Angelo’s high school, where he’d won the talent contest a year before, and speak with his music teacher and a couple of other teachers to learn more about him.

We spent three-four days in Richmond. Driving around the neighborhood with him, he pointed out different places where he hung out like the local record store where he would buy soul classics. When he and his cousins later made a surprise appearance at the high school’s talent show and performed, it was pandemonium. We were like, “OMG, he’s going to be really major.” And all along, I’m getting insight about D’Angelo and the whole texture of what our campaign was going to look like. That was the genesis of our relationship: talking, listening, observing, laughing — and doing my best to understand his demons.

“I want to have a mystique”

I’d sit with him in my office and say, “I want to hear your ideas; what you want and don’t want to do.” And he was clear, saying, “I want to be like Prince in the sense that I don’t want to do everything. I want to have a mystique. I don’t want to be oversaturated. I want to focus on the music. I’m a soul artist. I hate the ‘neo-soul’ title. I just want to play the music that I love.”

Now, if you met D’Angelo and you spoke to him for at least an hour, you’d definitely hear him talk about Marvin Gaye. He was influenced by a lot of soul singers, but he would always go back to Marvin.

Anyway, we had literally a year to set up this album before its release on July 3, 1995. Kedar Massenburg — who originated the term “neo-soul” — had entered the story now as his manager. Prior to Kedar and EMI, D’Angelo had signed with [Afropunk Festival partner] Jocelyn Cooper’s Midnight Songs, her publishing joint venture with Universal Music Publishing Group in 1994. She played me “U Will Know,” a song that D’Angelo and his brother Luther wrote for Black Men United and the movie Jason’s Lyric.

Like “We Are the World,” the goal was to create this all-star Black ensemble of amazing singers, including Boyz II Men, Usher and Tony! Toni! Toné!’s Raphael Saadiq and Dwayne Wiggins. If you watch the video of their performance on the American Music Awards, Brian McKnight says, “Come on D and sing that song.”  That was intentional: to set D’Angelo up so people would see him behind the keyboard. He wanted people to know he was a true, self-taught artist who played the piano, drums and guitar.

He didn’t want to be a sex symbol

D’Angelo was awkward, he was fun and liked things very natural, down to no nail polish on the hands for ladies. He loved to lick his lips when he was excited, and he would always follow it with, “You know what I’m saying; I know what you’re saying, right?”  And he loved his independence. A lot of artists love car service. But in the beginning, he’d drive himself to locations to underscore his independence.

The Brown Sugar press campaign and photo shoots were very much a collaboration with D. It was the Black press first for him: “We cannot do anything without the Black press, because that’s the foundation of who I am. I am a Black artist.” So before we even went to the mainstream, we saturated the Black press.

D was comfortable in his skin and with his weight. I’m not going to say he was pudgy, but he carried a little bit of weight. And it was cool, because he was cool. Now in hindsight, the more popular he became, management and the record label put him with a trainer. That, among other different things, did impact him. The bottom line was he didn’t like being a sex symbol. Music was his thing, not his physical exterior.

D’s press days were challenging, as he didn’t like to do interviews: at the start, a press day easily went from mid-morning to evening. Try having a musician become engaged for that length of time. He was also a chain smoker. It would start with cigarettes and end up with weed. There was no TMZ or social media then. Journalists were happy to have face time with him and endured it. So nobody was saying, “D’Angelo is smoking” or “He’s doing weed.” We protected him because we understood.  I remember talking with him and saying, “You have to stop smoking weed during the interviews.” This went back and forth, but it was always respectful.

He also loved the artist Ernie Barnes. When you watch the “Brown Sugar” video, there’s a reason why it looks like a painted canvas with a lot of fluidity and smoke. That’s what D wanted. The team made sure we created and kept that kind of authenticity for him. However, he hated to do videos, or anything that put the spotlight on him to perform.

Partying with Scorsese and Madonna

For the album’s release party, I thought, “Why don’t we mail Domino packets of brown sugar with the invitations?” It’s so corny now as I think about it. Then next was, “Why don’t we invite everybody who is famous that we don’t know to the Supper Club, and maybe they’ll come because of all the buzz we’ve been building?”

We had Madonna, Prince, Martin Scorsese … all these folks. It was absolutely memorable, and a game-changer for D’s album, press and sales. The fire marshal shut us down, and D couldn’t get into his own party at first. But that was the beginning of everything for both of us. Because of that party, I was able to place a Page Six item about D’Angelo, which was hard to come by. Giorgio Armani’s people reached out to me after the party and said they wanted to sponsor his first tour.

Last conversation

I worked with D’Angelo from the year before Brown Sugar came out [up to] seven months into the album’s release cycle. I left after the “Cruisin’” single, and while they were prepping “Lady,” because I had the opportunity to go to East West and work as a product manager for its chief, Sylvia Rhone. D’Angelo came to my office after hearing the news, and talked with me about not taking it; how things would be different, that he’d be on time for interviews and photoshoots.

Having witnessed firsthand from members of my family how demons can take hold, I knew that eventually things would become challenging sooner than later. It’s really hard when you love someone. I loved D as an artist and a person. After I left EMI, I would run into him here and there. It would be nothing to see D’Angelo walk into Bar Six in the Village at midnight or 1:00 a.m., sit at the bar and groove to the DJ spinning the classics. I also kept in touch with people in our mutual circle when I still worked in the industry.

The last time I spoke with D’Angelo was in October 2024. He’d called one of my yoga clients, Dyana Williams — also his media coach in the early days — and I was there. He was having some back issues and the conversation between the three of us was that maybe he should try yoga. He was like, “Yeah.” And we’re joking about imagining D on my yoga mat. I knew he had some health challenges but didn’t know the severity until this August when I was alerted that he wasn’t doing well.

D’Angelo’s legacy

Brown Sugar was released 30 years ago. He wanted it to be as it is: raw, Black, uncut, powerful and soulful from the rooter to the tooter. No matter how old you are, no matter where you’re from, D’Angelo’s legacy is like Bob Marley’s: universal. He was unapologetically Black, unapologetically soulful, unapologetically young — and writing what he felt in that moment. He was an extraordinarily gifted man who only wanted to be a true musician. He loved his people. He loved Black music. And he loved Black women.

In a world where we sometimes forget about the Black woman, he always made certain that we were represented in a certain light, in a certain way. And even when he wasn’t his best, you could always count on his kindness and generosity. That’s why his music touches all of us. You can hear the soundtrack of his life. He was simply being himself. We didn’t understand what that meant back then, but now we do. There was also the pressure of the church. That’s why I think Marvin Gayle resonated so much with D because they were both PK kids — and dealing with all the nuances that came with that.

D needed to retreat. He needed to not be chiseled. We boxed him in. We failed him because we just didn’t listen to what was important to him. We didn’t understand what depression really is, how to treat it and how to give an artist the space to create. I wish I’d known about yoga and meditation earlier. I would have understood more back then — and had more tools to help him.

— As told to Gail Mitchell