Rediscovered: 20 Years of J Dilla’s ‘Donuts’

J Dilla’s second album was released on his 32nd birthday in 2006, only days before his untimely death. He’d spent more than a decade defining and redefining a certain standard for hip-hop producers. It revealed the depths of his talent and the uniqueness of his approach. And it vaulted James Yancey (aka Jay Dee) into truly rarefied air. But, of course, his brilliance was already known. 

He’d initially come to the public’s attention in the 1990s through his work with acts like Pharcyde and A Tribe Called Quest; before his own group Slum Village became critical darlings in the early 2000s. By the time he began working on what would become Donuts (his follow up to 2001’s Welcome To Detroit), the man born James Yancey had already reinvented his sound a few times. 

At 31 tracks, and with most clocking in at under two minutes, Donuts can feel like you’re scrolling through an FM dial attuned to the most eclectic radio stations ever. That Dilla did much of the album from a hospital bed is part of its legend, and it gives the album a somber air. But most importantly, there’s a sense of every idea needing to be given space to breathe. This album has never been about death; it’s an ode to a man’s creative vision. 

And every moment of its runtime absolutely bursts with creativity. 

“Workinonit” builds around an engine revving and Beastie Boys; an energetic track that wouldn’t have been out of place on Paul’s Boutique; and “Waves” slows things down a bit, with a genius filter making the woozy loop even dreamier. He turns an Eddie Kendricks snippet into the hypnotic “People,” 

and on “The Difference,” he repurposes Kool & The Gang for one of the album’s brightest moments.

Dilla was never interested in playing by any musical rules, and he was even rewriting some of his own. His unorthodox approach to sampling and drum programming is a testament to his artistry.

“Me and T3 used to sit around and listen to old records and listen to the drummers f**k up and go off beat and s**t, but it sounded dope!” he explained in 2003. “So I found out how to program that and it just became a habit. Like when I do my s**t now, I don’t have no Quantizer, I just do it free-feeling. That’s why it feels like that. But the labels don’t like that s**t!”

“Time: The Donut Of the Heart” does amazing things with a slowed-down Jackson 5 “All I Do Is Think Of You,” and the way it segues into “Glazed”

is a highlight on an LP full of them. And he plucks J5 rivals The Sylvers for “Two Can Win,” before dissolves into “Don’t Cry,” which flips The Escorts into a track Questlove said was Dilla delivering a message to his mom. The Roots drummer has always been vocal about his admiration for Dilla.

“His range is bar none,” explained Questlove in 2012. “He’s gone through [four] production phases in his professional career. He didn’t stick to one. That’s the thing that really separates him from everyone in hip-hop. He started off with that post-[A Tribe Called Quest], boom bap with [the] loud kushy drums and a bouncy bassline—[which] especially did well for the Pharcyde album and Tribe records. But then in a snap, he went to—once he started working with us, with the Soulquarians—he started playing the stuff live. The most hilarious thing of it all was that he was not technically a musician. But he was able to get the sound that he heard in his head, not only executed onto tape, but he did it in such an original way that it actually started to change our view of how we made music.”

And Jay Dee refused to be stuck inside anyone’s box. As critical acclaim grew, and as peers like Questlove and Q-Tip became the loudest champions for his music. His work with Q-Tip notwithstanding, Dilla had always bristled at comparisons to A Tribe Called Quest. It was something he resisted from the moment Slum Village broke through. He was nobody’s “backpacker.”

“Me, myself—I hung around regular ass Detroit cats. Not the backpack s**t that people kept putting out there like that,” he told XXL back in 2004. “I mean, I ain’t never carried no g*ddamn backpack, but like I said, I understand to a certain extent. I guess that’s how the beats came off on some smooth type of s**t. And at that time, that’s when Ruff Ryders [was out] and there was a lot of hard s**t on the radio so our thing was we’re gonna do exactly what’s not on the radio.”

Donuts was affirmation that Dilla was peerless. There had been critically-acclaimed instrumental hip-hop albums before, as classics like Pete Rock’s PeteStrumentals and DJ Shadow’s Endtroducing had established the genre and became landmark releases. But, even beyond the undeniable artistry, Donuts took instrumental hip-hop to an even higher plateau in terms of visibility and lore. It’s become a standard, not just for hip-hop producers and deejays, but for artists across the board. 

Sango explained to Okayplayer in 2025 what Dilla’s music means to him as an artist. 

“Dilla is my favorite producer of all time,” he shared. “As someone from Michigan, I feel a deep connection. His influence on my creative journey is everything. The way he would put out instrumental projects became the blueprint for my career as Sango. That’s how I wanted to set myself apart — not just as a producer, but as an artist like him.”

Donuts became the perfect elegy for J Dilla’s genius. He was already a star, but the album that is forever linked to his passing cemented his legend. It would be easy to think of Donuts as a work of mortality and finality, as the man himself knew his time was near. But it’s more appropriately a testament to life and creativity; the art that James Yancey gave us and the ability for that art to inspire—even decades later.