Shit. Damn. Motherfucker.
Dude was an authentic, unapologetic trailblazer who had a 100% strike rate. He could have cashed in massively on the r&b heartthrob status he had after the 'Untitled' hoopla. I love that he didn't, and I love that he hated it - though I wish he hadn't suffered from the pressure of maintaining
that body. It sucks that he retreated from public life for so long afterwards, but I remember how thrilled I was when he dropped
Black Messiah out of what felt like nowhere at the end of 2014, and I remember being even more thrilled when the rapturous reception that greeted it turned out to be entirely justified. A vibrant, incisive masterpiece two decades after single-handedly birthing an entire subgenre in
Brown Sugar and expanding its scope with
Voodoo? What. An. Artist. I was always cautiously optimistic that we'd get a fourth record - his musings on Trump's America married to his distinctive sound (the layering, the textures, the grooves, god damn) would've surely given us the modern-day
There's a Riot Goin' On that we deserved. He gave us enough already, yes, but after losing one enigmatic soul KING in Sly this year, it's grossly unfair that we're robbed of another who had plenty of time to find inspiration once more. They won't make 'em like this again during my lifetime. RIP.