XIV. (Missed Hit) A Missed Opportunity: the CT6 Blackwing
By the late 2010s, Cadillac had built a credible case for its performance credentials. The V-Series had matured. The ATS-V and CTS-V had outgunned their German rivals on paper and, in many cases, on track. But Cadillac still lacked a true flagship powerplant—a no-compromises, clean-sheet engine engineered not just for speed, but for stature. The solution arrived in 2018, and it was a remarkable one: a hand-assembled, twin-turbo, dual-overhead-cam V8 unlike anything else GM had built. They called it Blackwing. It was Cadillac’s final internal combustion moonshot. And they barely used it.
The 4.2-liter Blackwing V8 was Cadillac’s first all-new V8 since Northstar. It was also its first twin-turbo DOHC V8 in a production GM vehicle. Development began as part of the CT6 program, originally envisioned as the platform for a new family of high-end sedans. Cadillac sought more than off-the-shelf LS derivatives to compete with BMW M and AMG, so it started from scratch. The Blackwing was not a small-block. It was a purpose-built, hot-V, direct-injected, cylinder-deactivating, high-boost engine designed to match—and in some respects exceed—the output and smoothness of its German peers. It was the closest thing GM had built to a Northstar 2.0, minus the front-wheel-drive baggage.
Specs were formidable. The all-aluminum block featured pressed-in iron liners and cross-bolted mains. Forged steel crank and rods, hypereutectic pistons, sodium-filled valves—nothing was left to chance. The twin Garrett/MHI turbos were mounted inside the cylinder heads in a hot-V configuration and fed by twin-scroll housings with electronic wastegates. Boost peaked around 20 psi. Direct injection ran at over 10,000 psi. Variable cam timing, a variable-displacement oil pump, active fuel management, and piston-cooling jets rounded out the package. The engine made 550 hp at 5,700 rpm and 640 lb-ft from 3,200–4,000 in CT6-V tune. A detuned 500-hp, 574 lb-ft version went into the CT6 Platinum.
Cadillac emphasized that the engine was more than just numbers. It was tuned for character, with engineers describing its powerband as “soulful” and its throttle mapping as intentionally progressive. The exhaust note was developed to evoke European performance, not just brute strength. It was hand-assembled by a single technician at GM’s Bowling Green Performance Build Center, the same facility that built Corvette Z06 engines. Each unit bore a builder’s nameplate. Attention to detail bordered on obsessive.
But from the start, the engine was boxed in by context. The CT6 was the only platform it fit, and the only Cadillac developed to house it. The CT6-V was never meant to be high-volume; initial allocation was capped at 275 units for the 2019 model year, which sold out almost immediately. Cadillac added the CT6 Platinum with the detuned 4.2 to capture residual demand. In total, only around 1,400 Blackwing-powered CT6s were produced—roughly 799 in 2019, 600 in 2020. The Platinum model carried an MSRP of $98,790 at launch (in 2025: $121,000); the CT6-V was slightly cheaper at $92,790 (in 2025: $116,000). Either way, this was a hand-built twin-turbo V8 in a full-size luxury sedan for under $100k. And nobody noticed.
The problem wasn’t the engine. It was the market. By 2019, large sedans were an endangered species in North America. GM had already begun walking away from the category. The planned CT8, a larger flagship intended to ride on the same Omega architecture, was quietly canceled. The Blackwing V8 never made it into the Escalade, despite persistent rumors. Internally, GM estimated the unit cost of each Blackwing engine at around $14,000—more than three times the cost of the 3.0-liter twin-turbo V6 that delivered comparable real-world acceleration in most use cases. It was overbuilt and underplanned. The engine had no home.
Compared to its rivals, the Blackwing held its own. Audi’s 4.0-liter V8, BMW’s S63, and Mercedes-AMG’s M177 all made between 550–617 hp and 590 lb-ft, depending on application. But they were also installed in chassis with deeper product pipelines and wider market reach. Cadillac, by contrast, had one aging sedan with a shrinking audience. Even though the CT6-V had a favorable power-to-weight ratio, the product came late and the platform was already marked for death. The Omega chassis, despite its lightweight construction and rear-drive layout, would be abandoned after 2020. No other Cadillac—or GM vehicle—would ever use the Blackwing V8 again.
The name lived on. In 2021, Cadillac launched the CT4-V and CT5-V Blackwing performance sedans, but both used existing engines: a twin-turbo V6 and a supercharged V8, respectively. The original Blackwing engine, despite being the reason for the name, was gone. Cadillac kept the badge, but not the hardware.
For those who drove it, the 4.2-liter twin-turbo Blackwing was a revelation. Throttle response was immediate. Midrange torque was immense. NVH levels were low. In launch tests, the CT6-V could reach 60 mph in under 4 seconds. Yet it cruised quietly, shifted smoothly, and offered Super Cruise—Cadillac’s hands-free driver-assist—alongside all that power. It was a fast car, but also a composed one. That duality, more than raw output, was the point.
In the end, the Blackwing V8 became a swan song. It marked the culmination of Cadillac’s internal-combustion R&D, a final flex of engineering before the brand pivoted toward Ultium batteries and electric drive units. It was also a casualty of that pivot—an engine developed in one strategic context and canceled in another. Cadillac had finally built its world-class V8, and then it walked away.
Today, fewer than 1,500 Blackwing-equipped CT6s exist. The cars are already collector bait—stealthy, fast, and quietly significant. They weren’t loud about their intentions, and neither was GM about their demise. But in retrospect, the 4.2-liter Blackwing may stand as one of the last great American engines: hand-built, over-engineered, and orphaned by timing. Cadillac built it not because the market demanded it, but because the engineers still knew how. That’s what makes it special, and a tragic loss.
XIV. (Home Run) The Lyriq
Not all was lost, however. When the Lyriq arrived in 2022, it marked more than just Cadillac’s first EV—it was the brand’s first clean-sheet statement about the electric era. Riding on GM’s Ultium platform and styled to fit comfortably within Cadillac’s design language while evolving it, the Lyriq didn’t look borrowed from anyone. The proportions were long and low, with a black crystal pseudo-grille, vertical lighting signatures, and a roofline that split the difference between fastback and crossover. Inside, a sweeping 33-inch OLED display dominated the cabin, bookended by minimalist detailing and a material quality that finally backed up Cadillac’s luxury claims. The launch model featured a 100 kWh battery and a single rear motor producing 340 hp and 325 lb-ft—enough for a 0–60 time of about six seconds and an EPA range of 312 miles. An AWD version followed with dual motors and 500 hp. Cadillac priced it aggressively, starting around $62,000, undercutting most German and American rivals while offering a larger battery, more range, and a design that didn’t mimic Tesla’s austerity. Reviews praised the ride quality, refinement, and in particular the noise isolation—this was still a Cadillac, even if it didn’t make a sound.
The Lyriq’s launch strategy was measured. Cadillac opened with a Debut Edition that sold out in minutes, then scaled up availability through 2023 and 2024 with additional trims and configurations. Charging capabilities were competitive, with up to 190 kW DC fast charging and a 19.2 kW onboard AC charger that placed it ahead of many rivals. More importantly, the Lyriq didn’t feel rushed. The software, often GM’s Achilles heel, was stable. The interface, redesigned from previous iterations of CUE, felt modern. It was the kind of product Cadillac needed—one that didn’t chase headlines with numbers alone, but quietly delivered a complete and compelling EV experience. If the Escalade had defined Cadillac’s 2000s identity, the Lyriq was poised to define its electric 2020s.
XV. (Hit?) Is the $340,000 Celestiq the Future of American Luxury?
The Celestiq is commissioned in the truest sense—each example individually crafted, never merely assembled. Hand-built inside GM’s Technical Center in Warren, Michigan, at a newly established $81 million facility, the Celestiq represents the most ambitious production process in Cadillac’s history. Clients begin with a formal invitation and proceed through a multi-stage design consultation with Cadillac’s lead studio team. Every exterior color, interior trim, and lighting pattern is made to order. No two are alike. This is Cadillac returning to the level of execution that once defined it, without apology or compromise.
The car itself is a 600-hp, dual-motor Ultium flagship engineered less for performance metrics than for motion control. Its 111-kWh battery yields 300 miles of range. Rear-wheel steering, magnetic ride calibration, active air suspension, and low center of gravity make its 18-foot length feel composed rather than cumbersome. Ride quality is prioritized over speed. Materials carry the same intent. Real metal, carbon fiber, laser-cut woods, and full-grain leathers extend across a cabin defined by the 55-inch pillar-to-pillar display and four individualized climate zones. Embedded sensors modulate tint, temperature, and sound isolation, creating what Cadillac describes—without irony—as a “curated sensory environment.”
The lighting system is emblematic. Each digital headlamp unit contains over a million micromirrors capable of animated projection. Door handles are pressure-sensitive panels integrated into the body surface. Welcome choreography is choreographed in full resolution. No functional element escapes theater. Not even the charge port, which pulses rhythmically as it energizes. The Celestiq is engineered indulgence—an act of design for its own sake.
Cadillac claims no interest in volume. Annual production will be limited to hundreds, not thousands. The price begins at $340,000 before customization. Buyers are assigned a concierge to coordinate configuration and delivery. There is no dealership negotiation. There is no inventory. This isn’t a business case; it’s a reputational one. Cadillac is positioning Celestiq as a reset—the statement of purpose it never made with the Sixteen, Ciel, or Elmiraj. Unlike those concepts, Celestiq made it to production. That alone distinguishes it from decades of GM vaporware.
Measured against rivals, the Celestiq occupies contested ground. The $422,000 Rolls-Royce Spectre offers similar electric range and even more imposing dimensions, but trades innovation for tradition—wood veneers, thick carpets, and torque-rich silence. The Ghost, still powered by a 6.75-liter twin-turbo V12, delivers smoother thrust and a firmer connection to the mechanical past, but feels thematically remote from the electric present. The Celestiq threads the space in between: modern in platform, anachronistic in ambition. It doesn’t imitate the British benchmark. It reframes what that benchmark might look like in an American idiom.
Reviews echo the tension. *MotorTrend* described its handling as “composed, confident, but never athletic”—appropriate, given its mission. *Car and Driver* emphasized ride isolation, calling the interior “a sensory deprivation chamber of the highest order.” Noise levels were among the lowest they’d ever measured. The most consistent praise landed on finish quality: panel gaps tighter than a Rolls, leather grain equal to Bentley, and metal controls milled with obsessive precision. *Road & Track* summarized the Celestiq as “overbuilt, overdesigned, and overdeserved.”
And still, the question lingers: will any of this matter? Cadillac has produced halo cars before—cars of promise, cars of ambition. But they’ve never carried through. The Allanté arrived underpowered and overpriced. The XLR-V was a Corvette in disguise. The CT6-V with the 4.2L Blackwing came and went with barely a whisper. The Celestiq can’t afford to become another parenthetical. It has to anchor a future lineup with actual reach. That means more than prestige. That means relevance.
XVI. (Hit) Blackwing Endures: the CT5-V and CT4-V
Cadillac has always known how to build a world-class performance car. It just rarely chose to. The CT5-V and CT4-V Blackwings are what happen when it does—and when it knows they’ll be the last. Neither of these sedans uses the 4.2-liter twin-turbo V8 Cadillac once engineered as its mechanical flagship. That engine—hand-assembled, hot-V, direct-injected, and orphaned after fewer than 1,400 CT6-Vs—was abandoned not for lack of excellence, but for lack of context. The Blackwings don’t inherit that engine. What they inherit is the will to matter, the conviction that engineering, character, and conviction can still trump volume and compromise. These are not successors. They are survivors. And they drive like it.
The CT5-V Blackwing was introduced in 2022 with a spec sheet that reads like a farewell letter to the internal combustion engine. A supercharged 6.2-liter LT4 V8, making 668 hp and 659 lb-ft of torque, sends power exclusively to the rear wheels. A six-speed manual transmission is standard—no upcharge, no limited availability, just a deliberate middle finger to industry orthodoxy. An optional 10-speed automatic shaves a few tenths off the 0–60 sprint (3.4 seconds versus 3.6 for the manual), but the soul of the car is in the shifter. There is no front-wheel drive. No artificial engine noise. No concession to a crossover-dominated market. Just a sedan—long, wide, rear-drive—built with the express purpose of beating BMW, Mercedes-AMG, and Alfa Romeo on their own ground.
And it does. Car and Driver clocked the CT5-V Blackwing’s Lightning Lap time at Virginia International Raceway at 2:49.6, placing it among the fastest sedans they’ve tested. The same car, with a clutch pedal and a warranty. No gimmicks. No excuses.
Yet raw speed was never the Blackwing’s only argument. The chassis is deeply communicative, engineered with an obsessive focus on balance and feedback. Cadillac’s third-generation Magnetic Ride Control filters out noise without muting feel. The steering is precise, weighted, and free of artificial resistance. Car and Driver put it back on the 10Best list for 2022. Road testers repeatedly praised not just its numbers, but the way it drove: progressive throttle response, intuitive rotation, long-legged stability at speed, and a gearbox that made everything else feel like software.
The CT4-V Blackwing gets overlooked, but it shouldn’t. It’s a different kind of machine: tighter, lighter, and powered by a 3.6-liter twin-turbo V6 making 472 hp and 445 lb-ft. It also comes standard with a six-speed manual and rides on the same Alpha II platform as the outgoing ATS-V—arguably one of the most dynamically gifted chassis GM ever built. In instrumented tests, the CT4-V Blackwing hits 60 in 4.0 seconds (3.9 with the automatic) and laps VIR’s Grand Course in 2:54.2. Among compact sedans, nothing drives like it.
Cadillac didn’t expect these cars to sell in Escalade volumes. It priced them accordingly: $62,390 for the CT4-V Blackwing, $90,495 for the CT5-V Blackwing, before options. Each can be spec’d with carbon-ceramic brakes, carbon aero packages, Recaro seats, and track telemetry systems developed with Cosworth. But they also offer subtlety: from a distance, they’re just sedans. No widebody gimmicks. No extraneous vents. Just quietly serious cars for drivers who know the difference. And because Cadillac understood that legacy matters, each Blackwing comes with a printed build sheet, a certificate of authenticity, and—on request—a two-day performance driving school at Spring Mountain Motor Resort.
They will not be replaced. Cadillac has made clear that no future V-series models will use combustion engines. These Blackwings are it: the last internal-combustion sedans with Cadillac crests and three pedals. And they are masterpieces—every component feels engineered, not off-the-rack. Every system communicates. They do not apologize for their existence. They justify it. And even as Cadillac moves to Ultium platforms and zero-emissions declarations, these cars remain in showrooms, still available to order. The CT6-V Blackwing died in silence. These Blackwings will not. They arrived with thunder and held the note.
XVIII. The Next Steps: Current Concepts and the Artiq
The Celestiq is not a car. It’s a monument—a hand-built, nearly $400,000 electric flagship meant to reassert Cadillac’s claim to global relevance, if not quite dominance, in the ultraluxury space. It’s precise, beautiful, deeply engineered, and almost completely detached from the world most buyers occupy. Cadillac has always thrived in the realm of imagination. But translating daring concept cars into showroom realities has long been the marque’s Achilles’ heel. Now, as Cadillac navigates the electric and autonomous frontier, its latest concepts offer compelling evidence that its creative vision remains vivid and potent—though skepticism lingers regarding whether these bold visions will reach production intact. They showed they can do it with the Celestiq. It must continue the effort with the Sollei and strangely named Opulent Velocity concepts.
Unveiled on July 22, 2024, at Cadillac House at Vanderbilt—GM’s design nucleus at the Warren Technical Center—the Cadillac Sollei concept embodies ultra-luxury EV grand touring with unmistakable American glamour. Overseen by Cadillac Design Director Erin Crossley under GM’s design chief Michael Simcoe, Sollei reinterprets classic Cadillac convertible grandeur through a contemporary electric lens. As Crossley described it, the Sollei is about “rediscovering the romance of travel,” reconnecting the driver with the open road and natural beauty.
Simcoe candidly acknowledged Sollei’s aesthetic as “more traditional,” aligning closely with public expectations of a six-figure Cadillac flagship—contrasting pointedly with the polarizing, hyper-avant-garde Celestiq sedan. Significantly, Sollei shares Celestiq’s Ultium platform, wheelbase, dual-motor drivetrain (~600 hp), and 111-kWh battery pack, suggesting a genuine intent for production, pending corporate approval.
Stylistically, Sollei’s form blends nostalgic grandeur with striking modern minimalism. It’s an expansive, low-slung 2+2 convertible, exhibiting classic proportions—short overhangs, extended dash-to-axle spacing, elongated coach doors measuring 68 inches for elegant rear-seat access, and a gracefully tapering rear deck evocative of iconic Eldorados. Its carbon fiber and fiberglass skin emphasizes continuous, seamless surfaces; all brightwork, finished in warm, subtly hued “Aurora” metal rather than chrome, frames carefully choreographed vertical LED lighting arrays featuring an intricate sunburst pattern. Painted in heritage-inspired “Manila Cream”—a tribute to Cadillac’s 1957–58 palette—its towering 23-inch polished aluminum wheels reference vintage chrome without sacrificing modernity.
Inside, the Sollei’s interior epitomizes Cadillac’s vision of luxury travel. Four sculpted seats are swathed in cream Nappa leather, subtly infused with iridescent pink pigments, shifting gently under changing light. Cadillac’s signature 55-inch pillar-to-pillar LED dashboard immerses occupants in customizable digital luxury. Artistry extends to meticulously crafted sun-ray marquetry inlays across five distinct wood veneers. The “Sol” theme carries through carpets in “Bask” gold and convertible top fabric named “Daybreak,” enveloping passengers in luxurious warmth. Innovatively sustainable materials include Fine Mycelium™ biomaterial—co-developed with MycoWorks—adorning storage compartments and bespoke luggage, signaling Cadillac’s thoughtful balance of indulgence and modern environmental consciousness. Extravagant touches—built-in beverage chillers and crystal glasses, even a whimsical bird-watching kit—underline leisure as ultimate luxury.
Technologically, Sollei mirrors Celestiq’s proven architecture: advanced dual-motor Ultium electric drivetrain (~600 hp), wireless battery management, and Ultra Cruise hands-free capability. Special focus was given to lighting ambiance, with customizable interior palettes and choreographed exterior sequences welcoming passengers.
Sollei quickly resonated, hailed by automotive media as Cadillac’s potential revival of the “great American convertible.” Car and Driver described it as a “stylish electric Celestiq minus a roof and two doors”—a logical progression of Cadillac’s bespoke EV approach. Road & Track praised its seamless blend of nostalgic elegance and futuristic tech. At Detroit’s 2025 EyesOn Design Awards, Sollei earned top honors for Innovative Use of Color, Graphics, and Materials—citing specifically the Manila Cream paint, Mycelium biomaterials, and iridescent interior leathers. Public response was predictably mixed: admiration for the Sollei’s glamorous aesthetics tempered by justified skepticism given Cadillac’s past record of abandoning ambitious concept cars. Nevertheless, the Sollei reignited genuine excitement around Cadillac’s potential return to form—crafting a convertible truly worthy of its “Standard of the World” mantle.
Introduced at the prestigious Monterey Car Week’s Quail Motorsports Gathering in August 2024, Cadillac’s Opulent Velocity concept boldly redefined electric luxury performance. Celebrating two decades of Cadillac’s high-performance V-Series lineage, Opulent Velocity is envisioned as a futuristic hypercar capable of seamlessly transitioning between two dramatically contrasting modes: “Opulent,” an autonomous luxury grand tourer, and “Velocity,” a driver-focused electric hypercar.
A radical departure from Cadillac’s current design language, Opulent Velocity’s 213.7-inch-long, 84.3-inch-wide, ultra-low 49.1-inch-tall form exudes sculptural elegance rather than hyper-aggressive drama. Its cab-forward layout and butterfly-wing doors signal the exotic intent, while restrained “Gilded Pearl” paint projects refined luxury. Vertical lighting, a Cadillac signature, appears in ultra-slim crystalline LED forms, subtly referencing brand identity.
The interior is a luxurious cocoon showcasing Cadillac’s imaginative interpretation of premium mobility. Seats and floating console structures—finished in sophisticated bluish-black “Selene” tones—feature jewel-like embellishments, prismatic embroidery, and heat-treated metallic accents.
These concepts demonstrate that Cadillac’s engineers and designers know how to push boundaries. The Celestiq, Escalade V, and Blackwing models show that it isn’t afraid of selling something few might even want. Which is why it matters so much that Cadillac will never build the car they actually need to: a family of production models derived from the Celestiq’s silhouette, proportions, and philosophy, but priced to play in the real market. They could call their new full-size luxury cars Artiq. The name works. Artiq—phonetically adjacent to Art & Science, visually tethered to Celestiq—suggests both continuity and constraint. It would sit below the Celestiq in price and positioning but above the CT5. In a lineup devoid of sedans outside the CT4/CT5 duo, it could anchor the middle: accessible luxury with visual gravitas. And unlike the Celestiq, it would be built to sell.
Three body styles. One architecture. A proper Artiq sedan, fastback in form but formal in tone, meant to succeed the DeVille in spirit if not in dimensions. A low-slung Artiq Coupe—think pillarless, two-door grand touring machine, not a shrunken sedan with fewer doors. And, if the brand dared, an Artiq Convertible. Cloth top, long deck, clean surfacing. The kind of car that exists not to chase volume but to prove you understand legacy. Cadillac once built convertibles for presidents. It could again.
All three would ride on a shortened, mass-producible version of the Celestiq’s Ultium-based architecture. No hand-formed aluminum. No 3D-printed hinge caps. Just a clean, scalable structure with shared hardpoints and design cues—vertical lighting, crisp shut lines, long dash-to-axle. No fake grilles. No fake exhausts. And, crucially, no excuses.
Performance would start modest: single-motor, rear-drive, 340-hp versions akin to the Lyriq. Dual-motor AWD in the 500-hp range would follow. And if Cadillac wanted to actually lean in, an Artiq-V could match or exceed the CT5-V Blackwing’s output—albeit silently. Super Cruise would be standard. So would active suspension, rear steering, and a level of ride quality Cadillac hasn’t truly offered since the last Fleetwood Brougham rolled off the line in 1996.
The Artiq would not be cheap. Nor should it be. A base sedan could open at $75,000. The coupe at $85,000. The convertible in the low six figures. These are not impulse prices. But they are plausible. They are meaningful. More to the point, they would allow Cadillac to speak to customers who want more than badge-engineered crossovers and less than hand-stitched electric monuments. It would allow the brand to field a full-throated luxury offering without pretending it’s gunning for Bentley.
Design would matter. The Artiq can’t be a watered-down Celestiq any more than the original Coupe DeVille was just a two-door Series 62. It needs to carry the DNA—tailored surfacing, upright proportions, a long hood even if there’s nothing under it but cable routing and charge controllers. The cabin should be quiet, tactile, and grounded. Not screens for the sake of screens. Not trim inspired by “performance textiles.” Give it depth. Give it restraint. No color-shifting paint. Just a palette that reflects Cadillac’s best moments: oxblood leather, brushed nickel trim, deep navy wool. Luxury isn’t loud. It’s disciplined.
More than anything, the Artiq line would reestablish the link between Cadillac’s present and its future. The Celestiq is not that link. It’s the crown—but crowns don’t sell empires. The Artiq would be the bridge between the Eldorado and the EV. The DeVille and the Ultium. It would answer a question that’s been floating unanswered since the turn of the century: What is the Cadillac for someone who doesn’t want a crossover, can’t justify $300,000, and still remembers what a Biarritz looked like rolling down Lakeshore Drive?
Cadillac has done this before. The 1992 Seville STS. The 2004 CTS. The 2011 CTS-V Wagon. None were volume leaders. But all had clarity. All had posture. All felt intentional. The Artiq could carry that legacy forward. It wouldn’t sell in Escalade numbers. It wouldn’t need to. It would just need to exist—to remind buyers that Cadillac hasn’t forgotten how to build a car that makes you pause on the street. A car that makes sense even if you can’t afford it.
They won’t build it. Not because they can’t. Because they won’t be allowed to. Because spreadsheets will say the margins are too thin. Because focus groups will say sedans are dead. Because risk is uncomfortable. But make no mistake: the Artiq is the car Cadillac needs. It’s the one that would close the loop between what the brand was and what it claims to become. It’s the car that would make Cadillac feel real again.
They’ll sell you a $340,000 Celestiq. They’ll offer you an Escalade that screams to 60 in just over 4 seconds. But the Artiq? The mainstream, rear-drive luxury Cadillac that doesn’t apologize for, in sedan, coupe, and convertible form? The one you could plausibly buy, drive, and park with pride next to anything from Munich, Stuttgart, or Tokyo?
That’s the one they won’t build.