The Weeknd's After Hours
At his best, Abel Tesfaye, better known by his professional persona The Weeknd, has always inhabited dark places. Catapulting into the cultural consciousness with the excessive hedonism of his acclaimed trilogy of mixtapes – House of Balloons, Thursday, and Echoes of Silence – Tesfaye’s studio albums have not always been fitting canvases for his unique brand of theatrical overindulgence. That is exactly what makes his fourth studio album, After Hours, such a successful reimagining of his image and sound. Marrying aesthetics that recall his role in the 2019 thriller Uncut Gems with the sounds of new wave and pop, Tesfaye has crafted a musical persona where his best instincts can (mostly) roam free in a druggy dreamworld awash in trap-tastic beats that hit so hard they have to be fictional. (Metro Boomin turn this hoe into a mosh pit, indeed)
After Hours opens with the uneven, yet effective, pairing of songs “Alone Again” and “Too Late” that serve to introduce the listener to the record’s main sonic themes: namely, gorgeous synth pastiche, Tesfaye’s still more gorgeous voice and an infinitely resonant, booming bass. All three are on full display on “Hardest To Love,” which, despite its title, is not too difficult to fall for once the dissonantly syncopated beat of the song’s verses pass. It is no coincidence that the quality if the album picks up considerably as Tesfaye’s voice is placed closer to the forefront of the mix, where he is free to be at his most Michael Jackson-esque.
This continues to prove true as “Scared To Live” delivers After Hours’ first highlight, and one of the album’s finest moments. A delicate ballad complete with drum fills coated in enough gated reverb to guarantee Phil Collins is smiling somewhere, this song’s longing vocals carry into the shimmering, fatalistic confessionals “Snowchild” and “Escape from LA.” Clearly, The Weeknd’s fast come-up has done nothing to fix Tesfaye’s problems, instead compounding and transforming them into something even more warped still. The wintry “Snowchild” finds him confronting this reality, as he recalls that “I used to pray when I was sixteen / If I didn't make it, then I'd probably make my wrist bleed.” Now that he has made it to the mountaintop, achieving a pop stardom few could ever dream of, he is still left asking “What’s next?” Not fame, not drugs, not even the studio sex detailed at the end of “Escape from LA” can comfort Tesfaye. No matter what he thinks will make him happy, he cannot divorce his desires from his natural propensity for self-destruction. This was true in Toronto and has now followed him into his fast-paced life as a Los Angeleno.
Nowhere is this truer than on “Heartless,” the track that finds The Weeknd’s new persona giving himself over most completely to his basest, most womanizing desires. It is easy to hear why this song was selected as the first single from After Hours. Not only are producer Metro Boomin’s hit-making credentials on full display, and to glorious effect, but the lyrical content of this banger recalls 2015’s mega-hit “The Hills” paired with a significantly stronger vocal performance.
As the second half of After Hours begins, the respite from introspection that “Heartless” provides is quickly dispatched in favor of the eerie “Faith.” As he comes crashing out of his high, Tesfaye is confronted with the reality that his drug-fueled pleasure-seeking may be the source of his discontents, rather than a means of escaping them. His dependence has warped his perceptions of love to the point where his faith in everything around him is shaken, leaving him despondent. “But if I OD, I want you to OD right beside me / I want you to follow right behind me,” he sings in the song’s second verse. “I want you to hold me while I'm smiling / While I’m dying.”
Ultimately, as “Faith” gives way to an atmospheric, wayward outro, Tesfaye’s search for a path forward leads him into the brilliant early single “Blinding Lights.” Drawing from a compelling sonic pallet that fuses the ambient synth textures of the Blade Runner soundtrack with the melodicism of a-Ha’s 80s classic “Take On Me,” this is an infectious jam that, simply put, is one of the year’s finest songs.
With the arrival of “In Your Eyes,” it is clear After Hours hits its stride in its second act. Boasting unquestionably the sleekest production any of the numbers here – including a very period correct saxophone solo – this slab of disco funk is an unquestioned highlight (the horn section tucked into the arrangement in the song’s final minute is oh-so-satisfying). The glossy production of “Save Your Tears” also is, serving as the best example of how the Weeknd’s pop sensibilities superbly jive with the sounds of new wave.
Love begins to emerge as a sort of savior for Tesfaye through After Hours second half, but even so, his demons are never far behind. Jealousy rears its ugly head on the moody “Repeat After Me (Interlude),” featuring a darkly psychedelic instrumental track thanks to co-writer Kevin Parker. “You don't love him, you're just fucking,” he sings in the song’s chorus, as if trying to convince himself that he can will his lover back to him, thinking she will save him from himself.
As After Hours draws to a close, its entrancing title track makes it clear Tesfaye has not been successful in his pursuit for salvation. “Where are you now when I need you most? / I'd give it all just to hold you close / Sorry that I broke your heart, your heart,” he sings. “I know it’s all my fault,” he later admits in the song’s bridge, before ultimately taking ownership on the record’s final cut “Until I Bleed Out.” Emotionally and physically spent, The Weeknd’s journey ends with the realization that, in order to be happy, he must excise his internal demons before love, or self-love, is possible.
This budding awareness is evidence that Tesfaye, sometimes despite his intentions, is learning that his drug-induced highs are not always worth the crushing lows. The true success of After Hours is that this realization plays out in the album’s track list, giving us The Weeknd’s best and most consistent offering to date.
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