Last week (October 14), neo-soul pioneer D’Angelo passed away at the age of 51 from pancreatic cancer. During his life, the musician released three Grammy-nominated and two Grammy award-winning albums, Brown Sugar, Voodoo and Black Messiah. His career spanned decades, with years-long gaps between each of his records, testament to the value of refusing to rush the process of bringing an artistic vision to life.

The release of his music video for his 2000 single “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”, where he appears almost nude, made him “a pop culture phenomenon” in the eyes of  the New York Times. At the same time, the hyper-sexualisation he faced after the release of the video drove him to nearly “a decade of seclusion”, but he never gave up on music. In an interview with Interview magazine from 1996, he explained that “Music is more deep than making videos. So if I ever come to a point where I decide to stop doing videos and performing, it does not mean I’ve stopped doing music. Music is me. That’s a part of me till the day I die.”

D’Angelo’s passing has prompted widespread mourning among fans and fellow artists. In his tribute to the musical legend, Tyler, the Creator, wrote that his “Musical DNA was [...] shaped by this man.” In an Instagram post, writer Hanif Abdurraqib reminded us that even in our feelings of deep sorrow at his unexpected passing, “Every new ancestor gained is an opportunity for the living to honour them well.”

That’s precisely what happened last Thursday at The Haggerston, in Dalston, where North London musician and producer, Osquello, put on ‘A Night of D’Angelo’. “I don’t know how to grieve,” Osquello tells Dazed. “So I thought the best way to do it was for all of us to celebrate his art together.” 

Below, we spoke to young Black people who came out to be with one another and celebrate D’Angelo about what the musician meant and continues to mean to them.

MISFYA, 24

“D’Angelo means soul in its purest form. He means truth manifested with no filters. He means bliss, he means joy. When I listen to his music, I feel centred and grounded within myself. I’m so sad that he had to go. I really hope that he felt fulfilled in his life. I hope he felt loved. I hope he felt like he’d achieved everything he needed to accomplish in the time he was here. He helped so many people. He healed so many people. He poured love into so many people.”

SIMBA, 26

“The sounds of D’Angelo are reminiscent of my childhood. Dancing in the living room, with my parents, getting ready for dinner, and just vibing out. D’Angelo returns to me at many points in my life, first in my youth and now in my adulthood, where I am having experiences that his lyrics resonate with. Nowadays, we don’t yearn in the way that D’Angelo sings about. My typical temperament is one of that time, and so I almost use D’Angelo as a way to affirm the feeling that I have now and remind me that there is no shame in loving and longing. You know that old school R&B music where they’re outside some shawty’s house with a boom box or ripping their shirt off and really fighting for love? That’s what D’Angelo reminds me of; that the fight for love is significant. He reminds me to love shamelessly.”

JUNIOR, 30

“He was unapologetically Black. He transcended age – be it our parents, aunties, uncles, cousins – there was no age limit to it. He touched everyone in equal ways. He was real soul – smooth, deep and honest. I’m not sure when I first heard his music; he has always been there. He had such autonomy over his sound. He was already a staple, alongside people like Erykah Badu and Maxwell. His passing is such sad news, but it has opened up channels of conversation and community between people. It has sparked a togetherness, which I think is really needed right now.”

ETHAN, 25

“When I think about D’Angelo, I think about my mum cleaning my house when I was about four or five years old. We had all his music on CD, playing all the time. When he passed the first text I got was actually from my mum. It seems like all of our Black icons are lost so early in comparison to their white counterparts. We have such a limited amount of time with the people we look up to and love, which is so unfortunate and unfair.”

BEKKE, 32

“He’s part of the fabric of my life. I’m lucky enough to have seen him live in 2012 and 2015. He means a lot to me, and he showed the world the importance of developing your practice and having patience with yourself. The world always anticipated him. Even when he went away for long periods of time, I always told myself that D’Angelo would come back. So when he came back with his third and final album, The Black Messiah, it came at the right time. He stayed true to himself and his practice. I want to apply that to other aspects of my life.”

OSQUELLO, 26

“D’Angelo means inspiration – to be yourself as a musician. To be integral to your art and not move your desires of why you’re creating towards an end product, but do it because you love what you do. He means vulnerability as a man in music and in soul. This year, and over the last few years, it feels like we’re losing a lot of real artists who were incredibly vulnerable in their art. I think the best thing we can do when someone passes away is to commemorate them for as long as possible. I’m a bad griever; I don’t know how to grieve. So I thought the best way to do it was for all of us to celebrate his art together.”