How did long-lost soul star D'Angelo feel in Prince's house?

D'Angelo at First Avenue/ Star Tribune photo by Jeff Wheeler

One guy onstage Sunday night at First Avenue has always been recognizable by his hair. The other guy onstage has always been recognizable by his body. Well, not anymore.

With his signature oversized, parted Afro and hair pick, that was unmistakably Questlove on the drums. But the fellow on keyboards, with his familiar short braided hair, looked a lot thicker than D'Angelo, whose chiseled torso was made famous in the video for 2000's "Untitled (How Does It Feel)."

Like Lauryn Hill, D'Angelo, 39, is a revered but reclusive neo-soul star from the 1990s who has been missing in action for a decade. And as happened when Hill came to First Avenue in 2011 for a rare concert, D'Angelo was tardy hitting the stage Sunday. And a little tentative.
Well, this wasn't a full-scale gig. Rather, as Questlove explained at the start, it was two kindred musicians jamming on some favorite tunes, as they often do in the recording studio to get inspiration.

Was the nearly two-hour session inspiring? At times, especially when three of Minneapolis' finest musicians joined in for the final encore. But this was mostly a cool show for music heads, not for casual D'Angelo fans. This was for those music geeks who appreciate D'Angelo's higher abilities on the keyboards and Questlove's mastery at keeping a funky groove on drums. There were moments of vocal passion but not enough consistent excitement to declare that D'Angelo is back and in touring form.

No, the long-lost soul star, who hasn't released a record since 2000's Grammy-winning "Voodoo," may have done about two dozen comeback concerts last year after three stints in rehab. But Sunday's show — the second of three D'Angelo/Questlove duo gigs booked this year — seemed more like a workout, a sparring match between two prize fighters who intimately knew each other's moves, and how to react.

By that standard, this wasn't as fascinating as watching the instrumental interplay between Prince and a new drummer he was rehearsing during a January gig at the tiny Dakota Jazz Club. The D'Angelo/Questlove duo, billed as Brothers in Arms, was more like a pressure-free, informal jam that happened to be in front of a sell-out crowd of 1,600 fans.

With ease, D'Angelo glided from his warm mid-range to his sexy falsetto, from his Sly Stone tease to his Prince playfulness. But, singing mostly covers of favorite R&B songs by Sly, Prince and the Ohio Players, he seldom mustered the sexy passion that made him a soul idol. And, anchored behind the keys, he eschewed the kind of showmanship that could seduce a theater full of swooning women. Moreover, he spent most of the night mired in a mid-tempo-to-ballad groove, which diminished the entertainment value.

At the end of Prince's "She's Always in My Hair," D'Angelo engaged in some passionate, improvised vocal riffing, building to an ecstatic scream. And he finally summoned his full vocal powers on his own hit from 1996, "Lady," one of the few fully realized numbers on which the vocal intensity matched the musical intensity.

Finally picking up the tempo, D'Angelo blossomed on the encore of Terence Trent D'Arby's 1988 smash "Wishing Well," providing as much joy and thrills as D'Arby did on that very stage in '95. But D'Angelo and Questlove know that First Ave is Prince's house. So they had to close with something from the Purple repertoire.

They invited some "legendary luminaries from Minnesota" (Questlove's words, since he did almost all the talking onstage) — longtime Prince saxophonist Eric Leeds, bassist/singer Paul Peterson and Mint Condition frontman Stokley Williams — for "Mutiny," a tune Prince penned for the Family, a 1985 side project that Peterson fronted.

Suddenly, with these extra players, D'Angelo was transformed into a performer, not just an introverted keyboardist lost in his own groove. He clearly relished Leeds' expressive sax (though he was startled when Leeds later played D'Angelo's keys). Peterson contributed funky lead vocals and a classic Minneapolis Sound bass line. But it was Williams' scatted trumpet sounds that propelled the proceedings into overdrive. D'Angelo was up dancing, shouting instructions to the band and getting buck wild — just like old times.
Sunday's set list: