“Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross feels like a song that existed before it was even recorded, as if it was waiting in the ether for someone to give it shape, for someone with the right voice, the right touch, the right soul. When Vandross released the track in 1981, it arrived like a sunbeam cutting through static—pure, bright, and instantly unforgettable. It didn’t need time to grow on listeners. It exploded right out of the speakers, the kind of groove that made hips move before heads caught up. But beneath that effortless glide was a meticulous, sophisticated composition—one that was self-written, self-produced, and flawlessly executed by one of the greatest voices soul music has ever known.
What’s immediately striking about “Never Too Much” is its sonic clarity. The opening bassline dances with elasticity, spring-loaded and bubbling with joy. The keyboards sparkle, setting a tone that’s both clean and rich. Then comes the drumbeat, not thunderous, but precise, clipped like the tap of fine shoes on a marble floor. It’s a sound that invites motion, and before a single lyric is sung, it’s already doing its job: it makes people feel good. That joy isn’t accidental. Vandross was a perfectionist with a deep understanding of arrangements, harmony, and studio chemistry. He built the track brick by brick, aligning every musical choice to serve the groove, to support the voice, and to make the song feel like an open invitation to love, laughter, and late-night dance floors.
