D'Angelo was one of the most important US musicians of his generation – he owed his ecstasy to the devil

God meant well for him. When Michael Eugene Archer was born on February 11, 1974, in Richmond, Virginia, he blessed the newborn with health, strength, and beauty. Above all, he blessed him with boundless musicality. But beside the cradle sat some devil, ready and determined to put obstacles in the path of the musical prodigy.

At first, his talent seemed destined to unfold. The biography of the future star lists early successes: At the age of three, the child of a Pentecostal priest, who later became world famous under the stage name D'Angelo, was said to have already been playing the piano. Soon, he also learned to play the guitar, saxophone, bass, and drums.

As a teenager, D'Angelo made a name for himself as the lead singer of the soul band Precise, which won the legendary amateur competition at the Apollo Theater in Harlem three times in a row. Inspired by such successes, he dropped out of college to devote himself entirely to music. In 1994, D'Angelo led the men's choir Black Men United and conducted future pop stars such as Raphael Saadiq, Usher, and R. Kelly in his gospel number "U Will Know."

In 1995, his debut album, "Brown Sugar," was released. It was a breakthrough; the first of three. D'Angelo excelled as a musician, clearly well-versed in various traditions of Black music. As a pastor's son, he had sung gospel in church; his mother, in turn, had introduced him to the jazz of Miles Davis. And as a fan of acts like KRS-One, Rakim, and A Tribe Called Quest, D'Angelo was well-versed in hip-hop.

But "Brown Sugar" still didn't sound like crossover or fusion. D'Angelo distilled the influences into a new substance, which he imbued with his feverish, rhythmic yet pointed vocals. This music, which relied less on rounded dramas than on a dynamic of emotional intensity, soon became known as neo-soul. It shaped an entire generation of highly expressive singers—from Lauryn Hill, Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, and Angie Stone (D'Angelo's longtime partner) to Frank Ocean and José James.

But after his early success, D'Angelo's career stalled for the first time. In interviews, he cited writer's block on the one hand. On the other, he expressed his dislike for the economic side of his calling. Music and the music business were like oil and water. He had to stay away from business and marketing to fully immerse himself in music.

D'Angelo sank into a creative crisis that lasted five years before he thrilled audiences with a second album. "Voodoo" (2000) was immediately widely hailed as a masterpiece, a milestone in Black music. The first impression matched the title. The austere, punctually drawn-out beats put one into a trance, and fiery sounds intoxicated the senses.

Only gradually did one recognize in the bubbling sound continuum a brilliant fusion of gospel and soul with the expansive generosity of funk, bebop, and hip-hop. Inspired by Prince, his idol, D'Angelo largely directed the production himself and once again recorded as many instrumental parts as possible. At the same time, he had a whole host of distinguished virtuosos with renowned names at his disposal – among them bassist Pino Palladino, drummer Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson, trumpeter Roy Hargrove, and guitarist Charlie Hunter.

And yet, "Voodoo" is primarily a vocal event. For in, above, and behind the bubbling sounds, the sweet hosanna of an exuberant male voice flickers and flames. D'Angelo sometimes took center stage as a soloist, sometimes layering his own singing on several tracks until a D'Angelo gospel choir emerged.

The neo-soul inventor's vocal range stretched from bass to his feverish falsetto. Instead of celebrating virtuosity and vocal power, however, D'Angelo mostly limited himself to a glowing understatement, which, on the one hand, showcased his flawless timing and assured phrasing, while, on the other, allowing for emotional climaxes all the more easily. The singer emphasized individual syllables, then entire sentences—often remaining incomprehensible, like a slurred oracle.

To experience the emotional impact of his singing, however, one had to see D'Angelo live. This is precisely why the 2000 world tour (which also included a visit to the Montreux Jazz Festival) is considered a legendary event. The mercurial athlete, with as much charisma as sex appeal, could transform on stage from a charming lover into a raging devil. Cursing, suffering, and raging, he wandered through the audience—and yet the rhythmic verve of his voice never disappeared. Even in ecstasy, he placed his vocals perfectly between the laid-back beats and the powerful brass arrangements of his band.

After the "voodoo" spell, the neo-soul star fell back into the valley of sorrow. His biggest hit, "Untitled (How Does It Feel)"—or more precisely, the video for it—was his undoing. It shows nothing but the singer, naked and muscular from head to hip. His singing thus seems like a tender invitation to sex.

In African-American music history, almost every pop star who learned to sing in church at some point considered themselves a sinner, betraying gospel to worldly pleasures. The physical exposure that his fame had actually fueled made D'Angelo feel even more guilty. The athletic, handsome young man, who adorned himself with a gold chain and cross and often looked somewhat insecure with his boyish eyes, no longer wanted to be a sex symbol; he wanted to be admired solely as an artist.

And what would happen after "Brown Sugar" and "Voodoo"? Neo Soul proved, if not a dead end, then at least a strange historical twist. D'Angelo had succeeded in revitalizing African-American traditionalism with innovative techniques and means of expression. But he pursued conservative goals. He aimed his music not at the future, but at eternity.

D'Angelo's Neo Soul can be seen as the last humanistic stage in the development of pop music. Once again, and almost desperately, singers mustered everything they could to exploit human potential—analog sound culture, stylistic flexibility, improvisational spontaneity, virtuosity, expressiveness. In doing so, they achieved artistic heights. In reality, however, pop was evolving toward robotics. Supported by synthetic beats and effects like autotune, the zeitgeisty pop stars and rappers soon made musicians like D'Angelo look outdated.

It took fourteen years after "Voodoo" for D'Angelo to rise again. During this dark period, he experienced the suicide of a close friend, he became an alcoholic, he was convicted of drug offenses, relationships fell apart, and he suffered from depression. His fans worldwide shared their thoughts on social media about his condition. They never gave up hope for a new album, but were nevertheless astonished when "Black Messiah" was released in 2014 – another soulful effort, this time often with militant rock overtones. In fact, D'Angelo is said to have been inspired for his musical activism by the Black Lives Matter movement.

After a world tour, things quieted down again. Here and there, D'Angelo was persuaded to collaborate. In 2019, he landed another hit: "Unshaken" became famous thanks to the game "Red Dead Redemption 2," whose soundtrack the song appeared in. In recent years, rumors circulated that D'Angelo was working on a new repertoire. But it wasn't enough for an album. The great, style-defining singer was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He succumbed to the disease on Tuesday at the age of 51.