Cassette

The Weeknd is trapped somewhere between death and rebirth on Hurry Up Tomorrow, his sixth and potentially final album. Though a lot of the experimental R&B and futuristic pop made by Abel Tesfaye as the Weeknd on his climb to worldwide fame has been heavy, moody, fatalistic, and looking towards dire endings, there's a cloud of finality that hangs aggressively and heavy-handedly over Hurry Up Tomorrow. Nearly every song here focuses on the rigors of fame, with lyrics returning time and again to being drained by the demands of touring, wanting out, being in too deep, and generally being ready to end it all. This can come off as utter desperation or self-indulgent metaphor depending on the delivery, but Tesfaye takes every opportunity to impress upon his audience that this is the end. Luckily, these depressing themes are wrapped in the same brilliant production, shiny synths, and intelligent song construction as the best of the Weeknd's output, resulting in a somewhat conflicting listen. Spending the album's 84-minute run time listening to a lesser artist go on and on about how rough his life of opulence and luxury is would be an utter slog, but Hurry Up Tomorrow is paced with calculation to keep things moving. The stabbing synth tones and darkly enchanting melodies of "Cry for Me" recall earlier Weeknd hits, and quickly transition into the quasi-Brazilian bump of "São Paulo," which is completed by an electric vocal hook from Anitta. Glum ballad "Reflections Laughing" builds in intensity until what began as a fairly minimal song becomes a cinematic experience, tapping into both the over-the-top grandeur of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and the edgy nocturnal atmosphere of the Chromatics or Tesfaye's frequent producer and collaborator Oneohtrix Point Never. The seriousness rarely wavers throughout Hurry Up Tomorrow, but moments like the elastic bump of vaporous rap tune "Timeless" with Playboi Carti, the sunny pop of "Give Me Mercy," and the knowing re-creation of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" groove on the second half of "Wake Me Up" break up what could easily become a monotonous drag. Even still, there's just a little bit too much moping to handle as Tesfaye describes his demise (metaphorical, literal, conceptual, the death of the character that is "The Weeknd," and more) from every angle. Lana Del Rey coos in the shadows on "The Abyss" and a Giorgio Moroder sample attempts to enliven "Big Sleep," but every flash of excitement bleeds into a muted whole. Ultimately, Hurry Up Tomorrow achieves its objective of ceremoniously ending the Weeknd. It's a flawlessly executed document of pristine production and incremental bursts of verve and joy to keep the music from dissolving into its own atmosphere. The challenge here, however, is finding the right mood to appreciate the Weeknd's lengthy and elaborate funeral for himself.

A1        Without A Warning
A2        Cry For Me
A3        São Paulo
A4        Society
A5        Take Me Back To LA
A6        The Abyss
B1        Open Hearts
B2        Timeless
B3        Give Me Mercy
B4        Runaway
B5        Red Terror