Has there been an artist that better reflects the past decade quite like The Weeknd? While he has been an R&B staple going back to 2015, the past five years have found him becoming one of the most inescapable artists on the planet. Not only have many of his songs racked up billions of listeners on Spotify, but he’s won Grammys, headlined The Super Bowl, and transitioned to acting with a role in the controversial HBO Sam Levinson series The Idol. It’s safe to say that even if you don’t find his doom and gloom brand of crooning enjoyable, you’ll at least be aware of something he’s put his artistic stamp on.
The branching out could be seen as a quest for superstardom. Many can also interpret it as a desire from singer Abel Tesfaye to be something other than The Weeknd. In the time leading up to his 84-minute opus, he’s admitted to wanting to kill his persona. Given how much he’s defined the past decade for his dark lyrics about drug abuse and depression, it makes sense that he’d want to be something other than the beautifully voiced tortured angel who wouldn’t be out of place on a late 80s synthpop soundtrack. There’s only so many ways for him to creatively bare his soul, tearing every fiber apart until he’s an exposed nerve. The subversive beauty and haunting lyrics can only hold appeal for so long.
For as much as losing an entity as profitable as The Weeknd could be for Tesfaye, it makes sense from an artistic standpoint. That may be why his latest “Hurry Up Tomorrow” can be better defined as the capper to a trilogy that began in 2020 with the phenomenal glitz of “After Hours” before delving into a murkier sound with “Dawn FM” that felt like driving through the desert around midnight. His efforts have produced some of the richest lane of pop-infused R&B that the modern age has seen. Even his brand of 80s synth pop avoids falling into cliché thanks to his sinister atmosphere that’s closer to cinematic than thoughtless.
While it’s unclear how his 2025 entry completes the trilogy, there is a sense that he’s more and more depressed. Whereas “After Hours” held a freewheeling debauchery that felt like a night out in Sin City and “Dawn FM” had this numbing loneliness defined by remorseful memories, “Hurry Up Tomorrow” is the album that’s so rooted in the bleak that one would be forgiven for wanting to take a pass. At different points, Tesfaye sings in graphic detail about drowning and ending his life in a tonal style that’s usually reserved for peaceful clarity and self-acceptance. This is his most subdued record yet, demanding that you trust where he’s going. There won’t be a hit on par with “Blinding Lights." Instead, it’s a story with twinges of The Divine Comedy mixed with an unhealthy obsession in challenging the limits of mortality. Given Tesfaye’s comments, maybe that’s the only thing he really could’ve done with The Weeknd at this point that makes any sense.
This read makes the album feel especially odd if not hollow. It’s doubtful that Tesfaye has ever been totally honest. Whatever truth he’s presented has often been expressed through an artificial lens as chintzy and glammed up as the instruments he belts over. It’s been easy to accept because his voice remains one of the most elegant and nuanced tools of modern music. His emotions have felt real. He knows how to cry with a simple register shift, even lowering his tone to reflect something truly painful. The craft is undeniable and plays well in an age when, post-pandemic, the world seems like a crazy hellscape where to believe in the least bit of optimism is to risk a severe case of dissociation. The Weeknd is an artist for sycophants surviving day to day. Tesfaye’s brilliance here is winking at the audience, knowing we are all playing some game to manipulate others into liking us.
With all this said, he’s first and foremost an artist with a phenomenal cast of producers at his beck and call. It would be boring to want a “serious” record from The Weeknd because he’s never been about sincerity. He’s been about the big emotions and melodrama that fuels our inner imaginations. He allows the impulses to shine through and everyone to embrace something dark and uncomfortable. He gets to play the antihero and attack the people in his life and, because we know it’s fiction, it all has a comfortable distance. A more genuine take on “Heartless” lwould ikely get Tesfaye canceled.
Similarly, “Hurry Up Tomorrow” is a powerful work because it’s the catharsis of a very depressed individual. Much like Quadeca’s “I Didn’t Mean to Haunt You,” the appeal is in allowing a safe distance to grapple with very complicated emotions. The Weeknd may be singing about ascending to heaven, but the 84-mintues are closer to a rational person’s hell. To him, the pain is a manifestation of the conflicted emotions inside him. There is this pressure to let everything out and feel the release. Whereas it felt more quaint and commercial on “After Hours” and “Dawn FM” because of their broad allegories for drug use, here it feels like a battle of the soul. Even if Tesfaye doesn’t truly feel this tortured, his decision to defile his artistic being like this is rapturous. The listener can’t help but wonder what his limits are and, apparently, they’ll end with a profound yet self-indulgent run of tracks that make angelic harmonies feel downright depressing. This is the story of a man who finds happiness… just not on this mortal coil.
A lot of credit must be given to his supporting ensemble for elevating his sound into its transcendent nightmare. The opening track “Wake Me Up” sets everything off with a slow build to the electronic vocals of Justice providing the moody atmosphere. The meandering five minutes allow for a slow immersion. Whereas The Weeknd never loses his soulfulness, it’s the booming use of Justice that helps to establish a more supernatural force at play. The synths feel like traveling through a cosmos searching for connection. It’s hallucinatory and lacking a comfortable center. The Weeknd’s journey ahead will remain off-kilter as he grapples with other electronic voices such as Giorgio Moroder (“Big Sleep”) and Future (“Enjoy the Show”). Each one provides their own disorientation that keeps the listeners off balance. At times the album fails to develop much of a pulse, as if finding the singer on death’s doorstep.
This is an album that battles between our world and the afterlife. While he never embraces iconography familiar to Greek mythology scholars, there is this sense that they’re on his mind. He’s grappling with the titans in the galaxy, questioning his self-worth and attempting to accept that what he’s done in life matters. The goosebumps come in the closing tracks when, following the ethereal triumph of Lana Del Rey (“The Abyss”), he grows more and more brooding until the atmosphere shifts, finding the higher pitches symbolizing a light emerging. Heaven is before him. Not since David Bowie’s cryptic “Blackstar” has an artist so willingly toyed with the public’s perception of them by writing their own post mortem escapades.
Credit must be given in large part to Mike Dean, who produces 17 of the 22 tracks. Having brought a similar spirituality to Christine and the Queens’ “Paranoia, True Love, Angels” in 2023, he allows for the melodies to become sparse, even idiosyncratic as The Weeknd finds a new balance to his melody. This is recontextualizing his world until reality becomes disorienting. The pulsating melodies grow and shrink with every cry. It may at times question the patience of certain listeners, but for those willing to meditate on this artistic adventure, it’s at very least surreal. There’s also an impressive eeriness recognizable to the experimental electronic sound of Uncut Gems (2019) collaborator Daniel Lopatin, a.k.a. Oneohtrix Point Never, who ratches up the tearfulness in the chaotic, like lightning through a cloud waiting to strike.
More than anything, what’s amazing about “Hurry Up Tomorrow” is how uncompromising it comes across. At a time where The Weeknd could’ve written five variations of “Blinding Lights,” he’s choosing to reach his most morbid subject matter to date. While it’s true that he has some bouncy gems like “Sao Paolo” (with Anitta) where the percussion becomes especially manic, it’s mostly a story about death that feels beyond the pale. Short of seeing him lying in his grave, this album feels like hearing the final breaths of The Weeknd escape. It may be too much for some while others may find the romanticization of mental illness a bit unpleasant. However, Tesfaye’s craft is so accomplished that the crass edges feel ignorable. When his voice sounds like that perfect mix of bittersweet self-actualization, it’s easy to get lost in one of the most challenging emotions to sing about. The fact he does it so effortlessly is bothersome.
Again, the distance between artifice and reality is Tesfaye’s smartest gift. The post-pandemic era has been largely defined by greater society trying to process a shared trauma. It’s about noticing our mortality and accepting that we’re all destined to die. For “Hurry Up Tomorrow,” it’s also a study of using time wisely amid our darkest moments. As we sit in our depressed states reflecting on where life has taken us, The Weeknd asks us to consider what matters. The exaggeration of these three albums should suggest a worst case scenario, and one that we could aspire to completely avoid. Even if we don’t, The Weeknd’s ability to delve into the deep end should make those with some kind of burden feel less alone. There’s comfort in his madness, even if it may not be lollipops and rainbows.
The question as to where Tesfaye goes from here will remain up in the air. If this is in fact the end of The Weeknd’s existence, it’s a richly textured farewell whose over the top despair seems tragicomic. It’s a record that may not hint at the future, but still gives a reason to one day see it. Maybe we won’t get Top 40 ballads about being high on drugs, but we’ll get something even more personal and, if it can be believed, more accomplished. For now the credits are rolling. Shivers are running down your back as the lights of the theater come back up and the ushers wait for you to exit and return to reality. Who knows how many times we will return. It’s best to enjoy it while we can.
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