It’s just a single, unbroken shot. No quick cuts. No backup dancers or flashy pyrotechnics. Just the grainy warmth of 35mm film and a man who looks more like a statue than a human. If you were around in early 2000, you remember the moment the d'angelo how does it feel video first flickered onto MTV or BET. It felt invasive. It felt like you were watching something you weren't supposed to see. Honestly, it changed R&B forever, but for D’Angelo, it was the beginning of a long, dark disappearance.
The Secret Behind That Famous One-Take Shot
Most people think the video is about sex. It isn't. At least, that's not what the director, Paul Hunter, was aiming for when they stood in that New York soundstage for six hours. Hunter actually told D’Angelo to think about his grandmother’s cooking. He wanted the singer to channel the feeling of smelling collard greens and yams in the kitchen—that deep, soulful comfort.
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Kinda weird, right? But if you watch his face, he isn’t just "modeling." He’s catching the spirit. He and Hunter even talked about the Holy Ghost right before the cameras rolled.
The technical setup was surprisingly simple. D'Angelo stood on a platform that moved slightly to keep him centered as the camera zoomed. He was wearing low-slung pajama bottoms, though the framing made the entire world believe he was completely nude.
It was a gamble. Before this, R&B videos were mostly about big budgets, Hype Williams-style fish-eye lenses, and shiny suits. This was just raw skin and a gold crucifix.
D'Angelo How Does It Feel Video: The Price of Becoming a Fetish
The song itself, "Untitled (How Does It Feel)," was a masterpiece of tension. It was an 11-minute tribute to Prince, recorded at Electric Lady Studios with Questlove on drums and Raphael Saadiq on guitar. It’s a slow burn that never quite resolves. But the video? The video was a supernova.
Overnight, D’Angelo went from being a "musician’s musician" to a global sex object.
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It backfired. Badly.
During the Voodoo tour, things got ugly. He’d be trying to play a complex, jazzy piano solo, and the crowd—mostly women—would just scream for him to take his shirt off. They weren't listening to the intricate rhythms he’d spent years perfecting in "Soulquarian" jam sessions. They wanted the guy from the video.
Imagine being one of the most talented composers of your generation and having people throw dollar bills at you while you're trying to channel Marvin Gaye. It broke him.
His manager, the late Dominique Trenier, later admitted he had mixed feelings about the video's success. He wanted to give D'Angelo mainstream "pop" energy, but he didn't realize it would overshadow the music so completely. D'Angelo started to feel like he'd sold his soul. He grew up in the Pentecostal church; he knew all about the "devil's music" stigma. The nudity felt like a transgression he couldn't take back.
What happened next was a 14-year silence:
- He stopped working out.
- He struggled with addiction and isolation.
- He retreated to Virginia, away from the "sex symbol" baggage.
- He obsessed over learning every instrument to prove he was more than a torso.
Why We Are Still Talking About It in 2026
We’re decades removed from the year 2000, yet the d'angelo how does it feel video remains the gold standard for minimalist visual storytelling. You see its fingerprints on everything from Frank Ocean’s aesthetic to the way modern R&B artists like Giveon or Daniel Caesar handle intimacy.
It was a "disruptor" before that word became a corporate cliché.
The tragedy is that the video was too successful. It was so visually arresting that it distracted us from the fact that "Untitled" is one of the most harmonically complex songs to ever hit #1 on the R&B charts. The vocal layering alone is a masterclass in soul.
Actionable Insights for the Soul
If you want to truly appreciate what D'Angelo was doing beyond the physique, here is how to dive back in:
- Listen to the "Voodoo" album on vinyl or high-quality headphones. Focus on the "drag" of the drums. Questlove intentionally plays slightly behind the beat to create a "drunken" feel that the video's smooth visuals actually contradict.
- Watch his 2014 "Black Messiah" live performances. You'll see a man who finally found peace by hiding behind a guitar and a big hat, letting the music be the front-and-center attraction.
- Study the lighting of the video. Paul Hunter used a high-contrast, warm-toned lighting scheme that mimics the "Chiaroscuro" style of Renaissance paintings. It’s why it looks like art, not just a clip.
The video didn't just sell an album; it defined an era of Black masculinity that was vulnerable and soft, yet undeniably powerful. Just remember: next time you watch it, listen for the grandmother’s greens. That’s where the real soul is hiding.