The Journey of David “Davinch” Chance

David “Davinch” Chance

Before the charts, David “Davinch” Chance was a kid in Baltimore chasing music that carried honesty and real life. That drive became Ruff Endz, the duo with Dante “Chi” Jordan whose smooth harmonies and soulful ballads defined early-2000s R&B, with hits like “No More,” “Someone to Love You,” and “Cash, Money, Cars.” 

After a hiatus, Ruff Endz reunited, releasing Soul Brothers [2018] and Rebirth [2021], blending their classic sound with perspective and faith. In this conversation, Chance reflects on Baltimore roots, the duo’s legacy, and the growth that now shapes his music and purpose.

Take me back to Baltimore — before the industry, before the charts. What was young David Chance chasing when music first grabbed you?  

Baltimore raised me on grit, soul, and honesty. Before the label deals, I was chasing expression. Music felt like the one place I could tell the truth without explaining myself. I wasn’t thinking about fame … I was chasing a feeling. I wanted to move people the same way the records I grew up on moved me.  

When Ruff Endz shifted from a full group to just you and Chi, what made that chemistry feel undeniable?  

When it became just me and Chi, everything got clearer. There was no fighting for space, no egos. It was balance. Our voices complemented each other naturally, and our personalities locked in. It felt effortless, like the music knew what it wanted to be once the distractions fell away. 

“No More” still hits the same decades later. What do you remember most about creating that record and watching it take on a life of its own?

What stands out is how real it was. We weren’t trying to chase a moment … we were in one. The honesty of that record connected because people were living those words. Watching it grow beyond us and become part of people’s personal stories is something I’ll never forget or take lightly.  

The early 2000s came with success, pressure, and a lot of moving parts behind the scenes. What was that season teaching you that you didn’t understand until later?

It taught me that success doesn’t slow life down — it speeds it up. I didn’t realize then how important ownership, patience, and discernment were. At the time, you’re just trying to keep up. Looking back, I understand how crucial it is to know who you are outside of the spotlight.

Between Love Crimes and Someone To Love You, your sound and perspective evolved. How was your real life shaping the way you wrote about love and relationships at that time?  

I was growing up in real time. Love wasn’t just fantasy anymore … it was responsibility, conflict, forgiveness. Those records reflect a man learning through experience. The writing became less idealistic and more honest because life was doing the teaching.

When the label situation slowed things down, how did that moment change the way you looked at the business side of music?  

It was eye-opening. I realized talent alone isn’t enough … you need understanding. Contracts, leverage, timing … those things really matter. That moment forced me to stop being just an artist and start thinking like a business in my own career.  

When Ruff Endz stepped away, what space did that create for you personally — creatively, spiritually, and mentally?

It gave me room to breathe and recalibrate. Silence can be uncomfortable, but it’s necessary. That space allowed me to hear myself again … not as part of a brand, but as a man. It was a reset on every level.  

You moved into inspirational and faith-driven music for a season. What was happening in your life that pulled you in that direction?  

I was unfulfilled and needed spiritual alignment. Success didn’t answer certain questions I had, and faith became the place where clarity started forming. I needed God! That music came from a need for grounding in His truth … the truth of who I am in Christ.

The Baltimore uprising in 2016 brought you back to recording with purpose. What did it mean to use your voice during that moment for your city?

It felt like responsibility. Baltimore isn’t just where I’m from … it’s part of my identity. Using my voice then wasn’t about commentary; it was about connection. Music has always been how I speak when words alone aren’t enough.

Your music has always carried emotion, but now there’s also reflection and lived experience in it. How has maturity changed the way you approach a song?  

I’m not rushing the emotion anymore. I let the song breathe. Maturity teaches you restraint … when to say more and when to say less. I’m more intentional now, more honest, and less concerned with trends.  

Projects like Soul Brothers and Rebirth feel grounded and intentional. What were you trying to express in this newer chapter of your artistry?

Soul Brothers was kinda like picking up where we left off. Rebirth was about coming full circle. These projects reflect brotherhood, renewal, and perspective. I wasn’t trying to prove anything — just expressing where I am. It’s music made from the heart with that classic sound.  

Now that you’re walking your own path, what does creative freedom look like for you day to day? 

Creative freedom means choice. Choosing to be a creative that leads people to Christ with my music, not just make them feel good. It’s not about doing everything … it’s about doing what matters.  

When people think about the legacy of Ruff Endz, what do you hope they recognize beyond the classic records?

I hope they recognize authenticity. We told real stories, sang real emotions, and stayed true to ourselves. Beyond the hits, the legacy is honesty.  

You’ve experienced fame, setbacks, reinvention, and growth. What would you tell artists learning how to survive the ups and downs of this industry? 

Know who you are before the industry tells you who to be. Protect your spirit, learn the business, and don’t let moments define your worth. Longevity comes from alignment, not hype. Last but not least … PUT GOD FIRST!

When you reflect on your journey, what continues to drive David Chance today — what still keeps the passion alive?  

My relationship with God has become my driving force … my purpose and my passion. When I look at the world today, especially everything that’s come to light over these past months, it’s clear that there is real darkness operating in plain sight. And it should trouble us. It troubles me deeply … and if you’re reading this, I hope it stirs something in you too.  

Music is still how I communicate, and that will never change. But now it’s also how I serve. It’s how I stand for truth, how I bring light into spaces that need it. As long as there’s something real to say … something honest, something purposeful … the passion will always be there.  

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