Album Review: Hurry Up Tomorrow by The Weeknd

As he’s willing to turn the page by ending ‘The Weeknd’ era, Abel Tesfaye’s latest release is the final part of a trilogy that began with 2020’s After Hours and continued with 2022’s Dawn FM.

Courtesy of XO / Republic Records.

In the beginning, there was the music. No image, no biography. Nothing. Just the music. In March 2011, a track shot through the blogosphere that left R&B fans worldwide breathless with its shimmering lightness, British-style drum programming, and a unique voice.

That track is called “What You Need,” from a band (?) called The Weeknd, about which no further details were provided. It talks about sex and drugs and all the other pains. The contemporary R&B scene seems to be salivating for a new star. There is no other way to explain why niche and mainstream media hailed The Weeknd as the next big thing within just a few weeks. It could also be because this music seems to hail from another world.

Maybe that’s why the intrigued public embraced this mysterious project from Toronto, Canada, unconditionally in such a short time. The Weeknd delivers the explicit lyrics, the emotional plunges under your skin, the drug-induced highs, and the ballads that move you to tears of cold sadness. All of it is served on a musical platter of post-dubstep concepts and that lost-but-found Aaliyah vibe.

When House of Balloons was released online in March 2011, the first bits of information trickled onto the internet. The Weeknd essentially consists of 21-year-old Abel Tesfaye. Producers Doc McKinney and Illangelo are also said to be involved in creating The Weeknd’s sound. Fundamentally, The Weeknd is a one-man operation and part of the XO Crew from Toronto. Of course, nobody knows them either, yet the group presents itself as a well-organized and hyper-motivated creative bunch—at least that’s the image they convey on various Tumblr pages and Twitter timelines.

Fast forward to pandemic 2020. The Weeknd, as a global superstar, returns with After Hours after two years without releasing an album—years in which he has not lost a shred of popularity, thanks to the fact that tracks from his previous albums still sound as fresh as the first day. It’s been long since he blew everyone’s mind with his very first steps, yet the appeal remains. We find an artist who has once again embraced synthesizers to give the record an ’80s pop flavor (you only have to listen to the melody of “In Your Eyes” to be transported back to those radio stations that, between songs, promised listeners the best of the ’80s without interruption). This choice aligns with the aesthetics and artistry he employs in this successful career phase.

He has a brilliant ability to create clean, accessible, harmless hits that are easy to digest. He is the perfect product for all audiences, and his next challenge is to fill as many stadiums as possible with his After Hours Til Dawn Tour. At the same time, he lives in a loop of ’80s sounds that he’s reluctant to leave, often smothering an exceptional talent we miss. This makes us doubt his potential for future growth. With Dawn FM releasing in 2022, he returns to his formula with total precision—one he already knows by heart. There is no intention of exploring new sonic paths, reviving his creative roots, and relinquishing his status as a top-seller.

Added to all this, the star has shown that he desperately needs to feed his ego with applause, much like that “No-Face” from Spirited Away, who is treated like a god by everyone in the bathhouse. He struggles to accept criticism and has become tremendously ambitious. Even so, this new journey could be considered one of the most polished projects he has undertaken in recent years. The inclusion of Daniel Lopatin (Oneohtrix Point Never) as producer makes revisiting that same old formula more enjoyable: it gives a breather and greater consistency to the underwhelming electronic work of prior releases. Despite lacking truly standout compositions, it dresses up and refines the sonic elements into something more interesting than what Abel delivered on After Hours.

Dawn FM is, in a way, an album that reconnects with the past version of The Weeknd we loved so much. It’s the first time in a long while that we truly see him making an effort to push his songs beyond simple pop radio hits. He once again explores his well-known sonic references, stretches them, and even equals many of them in certain shining moments. Hurry Up Tomorrow has generated significant anticipation due to its narrative continuity with his last two LPs, both of which have been critically acclaimed. The album’s underlying theme tackles rebirth and closure, with The Weeknd hinting at a transformative outing throughout his music career, but the talks seem less interesting than usual. The album also ties into a psychological thriller film of the same name which is slated to drop in Spring, starring The Weeknd, Jenna Ortega, and Barry Keoghan, directed by Trey Edward Shults.

Let’s give context surrounding Abel’s sixth release: The promotional material has included cryptic statements about self-reflection, trauma, and identity, hinting at an existential exploration similar to the previous albums in the trilogy. The Weeknd has indicated that this album is his final release under his stage name, signaling a potential end to a chapter of his career. He has teased fans with visual content and live performances, such as during a special concert in São Paulo, Brazil, where he debuted several new tracks. The album’s rollout has been marked by a series of teasers and exclusive events, including collaborations with Universal Studios for a Halloween Horror Nights experience themed around his trilogy.

The good news about this release is that it’s not all ‘80s rehash. It brings elements from The Weeknd that we know and love, from his humble beginnings to his current status as an artist. But first, “Wake Me Up” starts with an intro buildup before it gets into a groove. As Mike Dean does the bulk of the album’s heavy lifting and the opening track produced with Justice and Oneohtrix Point Never, Abel presents a haunting tour of struggle, introspection, and the ineradicable battle with inner demons that sets the tone for the rest of Hurry Up Tomorrow. He captures the relentless tug-of-war between consciousness and the numbing seduction of oblivion. The Weeknd reveals the paradox of needing anesthesia and awakening by juxtaposing the faltering grip on reality with the engulfing weight of one’s psyche.

In “Take Me Back to LA,” he steeps in nostalgia and introspection, deftly capturing the essence of longing and reflection on past experiences. Recorded during the After Hours sessions, the references to the elements—sunshine, snow, and fire—embody physical and emotional landscapes. They indicate a desire to reconnect with former versions of himself and the innocence of youth, which stands out songwriting-wise. His mastery of emotive lyricism is evident in the atmospheric “Big Sleep” as he sings about temporality and existential contemplation. “Give Me Mercy” seeks solace and forgiveness, grappling with the consequences of unwise decisions and a life fraught with deception. Abel conveys a sense of conflict as he wrestles with temptations and the impact of his choices on his soul.

“Baptized In Fear” takes cues from his 2018 EP, My Dear Melancholy. The Weeknd's intimate, personal confrontation with mortality against the backdrop of an everyday setting—a bath—heightens the absurdity and terror of the situation. By making it one of the album’s notable songs, The Weeknd paints a vivid scene of vulnerability and helplessness, summarizing in the opener, “I fell asleep in the tub; I was there with paralysis.” The bouncy “Niagara Falls” addresses loyalty and longing as he reminisces about closeness and acknowledges the lingering emotional entanglements. The true gem is “I Can’t Wait to Get There,” displaying a proximity of darkness and light, a theme that pervades the song as Abel navigates his way toward an anticipated future. Yet, despite these adversities, there’s a recurring acknowledgment of a deep-seated love and vulnerability.

Metro Boomin returns on the production tip. “Drive” has this beat with a synth-heavy trap element as The Weeknd captures a desire for liberation and simplicity, evoking a sense of longing for the pure experience of the open road with the portrayal of fame as a burdensome affliction adds depth, suggesting a certain weariness with the trappings of success. “The Abyss” starts with a piano motif until it builds into a slow-burning trap song that helps The Weeknd frame love as precious yet fleeting, mirroring the broader theme of transient beauty within collapsing worlds with additional vocals from Lana Del Rey. The upbeat “Cry for Me” tackles the aftermath of a heart-wrenching separation, deftly capturing the raw emotional spectrum between longing and resignation before switching to a Memphis-influenced banger. The bridge brings a contemplative reflection on solitude and perceived mutual dependency, as Abel laments, “Every time I hit the road, it takes a little piece of me.”

Features on this album didn’t help elevate, but they did what you expect. In the soul-sampling “Enjoy the Show,” The Weeknd, alongside Future, has them dealing with the tumultuous nature of addiction, not merely to substances but also to relationships and the public persona he navigates. Through the complex emotions inherent in these absorptions, “Reflections Laughing” apprehends a sense of being trapped within a “gilded cage,” which suggests the dichotomy between opulence and restriction. Unfortunately, Travis Scott does nothing but bring in his contrasting yet non-existing energy, with his characteristic braggadocio highlighting the tumultuous lifestyle that parallels Abel’s content with his chopped, not slopped vocals.

However, since it’s twenty-two tracks long, with an hour and twenty-five minutes in length, you are bound to get more filler. Playboi Carti, which we’re struggling with his appeal, opens the track with braggadocio, emphasizing his success and the allure of his lifestyle, while The Weeknd adds his signature reflective touch, grappling with the idea of being “timeless” amid the transient nature of celebrity life. The track features a bouncy beat with retro synths, orchestrated by producers like Mike Dean and Pharrell Williams, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of his Starboy era, and it doesn’t go anywhere. Plus, “Opening Night” is an interlude that’s thrown in there just to pad the streaming numbers, “Given Up On Me” wastes a slow-dreaded trap track before switching up to a soul song that could’ve been a separate song, and “Open Hearts” is another throwaway Max Martin and Oscar Holter track you have heard before, which is disposable.

This album could have been one of Weeknd’s best had it stuck to its consistency. “Red Terror” harkens back to the Trilogy era, beginning with a hypnotic introduction and setting an almost ethereal ambiance by the emotional landscape as he sets a scene from the fear and chaos (with a heartfelt voyage of nurture and longing) with “I ran from the terror, the crowd was red from the led.” On the other hand, “São Paulo” with Anitta is a provocative blend of lust, control, and surrender. The lyrics are sexually charged, with Anitta’s verse boldly claiming her power over her body, while The Weeknd reflects on the intoxicating yet potentially destructive nature of desire. It combines The Weeknd’s dark, atmospheric R&B with Brazilian funk elements, thanks to Anitta’s involvement, but again, it feels out of place on the record.

The last two songs on this album close it out seamlessly. “Without a Warning” opens with a plea to ‘take me to a time when I was young,’ recognizing a past where the burdens of fame and substance could be shouldered more efficiently and lamenting the physical and emotional frailty that now accompanies these challenges. The Weeknd here sings about the portrait of aging, fame, and existential uncertainty, wrapped in a haunting reflection on the transient nature of life and success. As the song continues, he confronts the cyclical nature of escapism and the perils of self-medication, acknowledging the conflict between the desire for authenticity and the urge to escape the mundanity of life. As he wrestles with the uncertainty of ‘tomorrow’s coming,’ the outro elevates this internal struggle, poignantly questioning the sustainability of a lifestyle that perpetually ‘chase[s] the crown’ even when faced with the ultimate conclusion, being ‘put in the ground.’

We have reached the title track, having him viewing personal anguish and redemption, articulating feelings of guilt and hope through imagery and confession. In the verses, Abel confronts the heavy burdens of past missteps, the repeated hopes that someone, perhaps divine, is watching over him reflect a yearning for understanding and absolution, underscored in the pre-hook by the poignant wish, “I hope my confession is enough.” This theme carries through the chorus, striving for post-love enlightenment and improvement, showcasing a deep longing for transformation and an end to suffering, as expressed in, “I want heaven when I die/I wanna change/I want the pain no more.”

The narrative reaches a climax of vulnerability with an acknowledgment of personal failure and an emergent plea for maternal and self-forgiveness, effectively capturing the tension between self-reproach and the hope for peace. In this intricate exposé of human frailty, he articulates a nuanced narrative of seeking solace, transformation, and, ultimately, redemption. Through its songs and underlying narrative, despite being a couple of songs too long, Hurry Up Tomorrow captures The Weeknd’s struggle with identity, legacy, and the pursuit of a meaningful connection in a world that often seems hostile. The question remains: Is this the end of ‘The Weeknd,’ or has tomorrow arrived?

Solid (★★★½☆)

Favorite Track(s): “I Can’t Wait to Get There,” “Niagara Falls,” “Hurry Up Tomorrow”