An Unlikely Pairing: Final Fantasy IX and Voodoo

We're getting new versions of two GOATs later this summer. Final Fantasy Tactics: The Ivalice Chronicles is due late August, followed by Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater at the end of September. Lucky us!

Lucky me.

That's two of the greatest of all time - number one (Snake Eater) and number five (Tactics) on my list - and while I'm certainly looking forward to both, the wait won't kill me. Probably. I'm excited but I'm not bursting at the seams. August and September will be here in the blink of an eye, as time doesn't make sense anymore, so there's no need to count down the days. I don't have the time or the energy to work myself up the way I used to.

It's different when you're young(er). Your enthusiasm is through the roof, and waits are agonising. You count down the months, weeks and days until the object of your obsession is in your possession and you have full confidence that, once it is in your grubby little mitts, it'll be exceptional.

And that's exactly what Final Fantasy IX and Voodoo were. Exceptional.

You might be wondering why I'd group that pair. Well, D'Angelo's Voodoo and Final Fantasy IX arrived at the same time in my life, during my last two years of secondary school, albeit a year apart, in January 2000 and February 2001, respectively. But more importantly, my anticipation for them both was through the roof and the wait for their arrival was excruciating. Waits like no other.

IX was the first Final Fantasy that I had to be patient for. I came to the series at the turn of the millennium, via Final Fantasy VIII, aka the best one. I adored it and immediately moved to VII, which I enjoyed almost as much. I was hooked; a Final Fantasy fan for life. I sought out other RPGs, such as Saga Frontier 2 and Grandia, but I soon abandoned them. Fine games, probably, but I wanted Final Fantasy. I tried other Squaresoft titles, but as much as I liked Vagrant Story, it didn't quite scratch my FF itch. So I did the logical thing: I replayed VII and VIII over and over, and I waited for the PAL localisation that took its sweet time to arrive.

D'Angelo's seminal 1995 debut, Brown Sugar, lived in my CD player for most of the late 90s. It was my introduction to neo soul and it did something weird to my teenage brain. D'Angelo is known for taking his time - only three studio albums in 30 years - and Voodoo was the subject of multiple delays. Writer's block, folded record labels, under-performing lead singles, and a lack of faith from label executives who felt the album was too experimental - these factors contributed to the release date being forced further and further back, out of one century and into another. I was following all the drama through the music press, MTV and radio shows - olden days' shit - and getting progressively more hyped. 

I wore out the tape I'd recorded off the radio of lead single Left & Right. Olden days' shit.

The wait for both felt endless, but it was worthwhile. I took to Voodoo immediately, and quickly found my favourite tracks: Spanish Joint and The Root. D'Angelo's musical legacy was assured. Likewise, Final Fantasy IX didn't disappoint. I recall my brother and I racing through the opening hours that evening after school, ecstatic to be experiencing a new Fantasy. It was everything we wanted it to be.

This year is the 25th anniversary of FFIX's Japanese and US launch. Square-Enix has thus far marked the occasion with some stuffed toys, figures, vinyls and other game-adjacent odds and ends. Its popularity persists, as do the rumours of a forthcoming remake. However, I'm not all that keen on the prospect. It just doesn't strike me as an experience that would benefit from a glow-up.

I went back to IX in 2021, for the first time in fifteen years, and it was a disappointing experience. It was as charming as ever, sure, but I found it hard to forgive its shortcomings. Its insistence on constantly holding back one or more party members frustrated me beyond belief, the experience as a whole just doesn't flow nicely, and some of the character designs are truly atrocious. I've replayed several Final Fantasies over the last few years and IX is the only one that, in hindsight, I wish I'd left alone.

Being the hopeless Final Fantasy fan that I am, I couldn't resist the new Magic the Gathering Final Fantasy cards that dropped earlier this month. I'm not a MtG player, or a card-player of any type for that matter, but I've been drawn to the striking art of familiar characters and scenes. I haven't bought many packs, but have instead been picking up single cards from low-priced bins and occasionally treating myself to more expensive cards from glass cabinets. Free to select those that I find most appealing, I've ended up with a surprising number of FFIX cards, particularly those featuring moogles or black mages. Evidently I still have great fondness for IX, one that largely survived my last playthrough. 

In twenty-five years, I've never cooled on Voodoo; not once have I been disappointed by a replay. It is D'Angelo at his self-indulgent best, wearing his influences on his sleeve yet sounding quite unlike anyone else. Voodoo might be the apex of neo soul but it is also a clear rejection of the expectations that come with that genre-label, many of which were of his own creation, born of Brown Sugar. Voodoo is at odds with the norm, and is the most peculiar of mainstream albums. At times, it's also at odds with itself, especially in regard to the overly sexualized depiction of the artist, on the cover and in the marketing campaigns, which sits uneasy with the music within, and apparently sat uneasy with D'Angelo himself. Voodoo shags, but it ain't horny, despite what the album cover might suggest. 

A thirteen-track and 69-minute (not horny) no-skip masterpiece.

I find it easier to maintain an active connection to an album than I do a game, and without the need to rely on nostalgia to fuel it. It takes little effort to renew your relationship with a piece of music. Throw on a song, give it your full attention or have it play in the background when you're getting on with something else; listen to an album from start to finish or skip straight to the tracks you love the most. In contrast, committing to a tens-of-hours replay of a beloved game is quite the ask. 

I find music to be more malleable than games, better able to evolve alongside the listener, and my favourite albums and I are constantly finding new ways to coexist. With some exceptions, for me, games are more fixed to one moment in time, that moment being when I first played them. Nostalgia hits me with games far more than it does music, and while I'm a sucker for nostalgia, it can be a constraining force. Of course, a familiar song can transport me back to a moment in the past, but I find it far easier to forge new associations and create new memories with music than I do games. 

And I love that difference. I don't want to enjoy music and games in the same way.

Over the last twenty-five years, Square Enix has achieved a level of productivity that has put D'Angelo to shame. The Final Fantasies have kept coming and, for the most part, this prolificacy has been a blessing. Post Voodoo, D'Angelo has given us a solitary album, 2014's Black Messiah.  A new anything from D'Angelo would be cause for celebration, but no matter how many years pass, it's unlikely to reproduce the excitement I felt for Voodoo.

I somehow doubt that Final Fantasy and D'Angelo will again cross paths in my enjoyment of pop culture. They were an unlikely pairing in the first place, but one that I don't wish to untangle. They'll remain joined at the hip in my recollections of a time when my tastes were being defined, and when days felt like weeks, and months like years. A time when I was discovering interests that have lasted into the fast-approaching onset of middle age.

That said, maybe D'Angelo will drop a new record in time for The Ivalice Chronicles? If he does, I promise to get excited.