This Weeknd Starts A New Chapter
INTRODUCTION
Before I begin, I must say this: writer and poet Harmony Holiday wrote an unbelievably good breakdown of Dawn FM, the newest album by The Weekend (Abel Tesfaye). It astounded me and it also astounded one of our editors, Brandon. The piece was published by NPR; here is the link: https://www.npr.org/2022/01/14/1072463974/on-dawn-fm-the-weeknd-is-both-suffering-and-saved
Other (lesser) reviews of Dawn FM will tell you that the music is about Death, or Purgatory, or something like that. Sadly, though, an eighth grader could have made that observation. He literally discusses being so at peace in the company of a lover that he wouldn’t mind if his lifeless body were drenched in gasoline and lit on fire.
That’s the first song.
As much as I want to, I can’t blame other writers for drawing attention to the obvious. Death is definitely a motif throughout the album. Aside from the in-your-face lyrics, Tesfaye cleverly signals Death in the form of subverted ’80s Pop tropes.
“Take My Breath” is the album’s promotional single and it uses the long-tired cliché about someone so in love that they can hardly breath. The twist here is that the lyric that follows Take my breath away (And make it last forever, babe) can be interpreted as two things: a love wish or a death wish. Or both.
Say ‘I love you’ but I’m out of time (“Out of Time”) also appears to be a run-of-the-mill love song chorus. He must have waited too long to commit to his partner and she’s moving on. But “Out of Time” doesn’t arrive until halfway through the listening experience, and the first half spends its time either explicitly mentioning death (even suicide) or slyly alluding to it.
Once we’ve reached the midway point of the track list, we've been conditioned to hear Death at every turn.
DAWN FM IS ABOUT CHANGE
Dawn FM is probably about Death. I won’t argue that. But I don’t find Death to be the central theme. In a sense, all art is about Death. The desire for humans to create is mainly a result of our mortality. We want to live past Death and so we try to manifest something new and unique. Some people have kids. Some even name their kids their exact same names (not so unique). Other people would rather extend their flesh-lives by making a legacy. Painters, musicians, architects, poets, philosophers, politicians, businessmen all have the chance to live beyond their physical selves by way of creation.
But when I listen to The Weeknd’s new album, I don’t gather that he is ruminating on Death. I think he’s using the it as a literary device.
I mean, what is Death if not transformation. It’s a change from being into not being. Or perhaps from living on this plane of existence to living in an afterlife.
Change, symbolized as death, is the dominant theme from this record.
It’s common knowledge to listeners of Tesfaye’s music that he (or his stage persona) is a philandering and partying heartbreaker. Sure, he’s written lyrics from the vantage of the heartbroken, but his most notable songs depict him as a playboy with a brooding disposition.
On Dawn FM (the followup to After Hours and the second installment Tesfaye’s second musical trilogy), The Weeknd’s character is evolving. He yearns for love, and it times it appears he’s actually found it. Yet this turn of page seems to be causing him pain.
Why would that be so?
There are two adages that I hear and see ad nauseam: “Change is hard” and “The best (or right) thing to do is often the hardest.” I’m sure we’ve all encountered some form of each saying, probably because they’re both true.
Well, they’re true for The Weeknd, too.
Tesfaye appears to be telling us that glamorous hedonism is not as fulfilling as some would think. His avatar, The Weeknd, is changing, and now he feels the vulnerability, uncertainty, and emotional upheaval that’s intrinsic to the experience of Love.
There are numerous occasions across Dawn FM where the ball is not in The Weeknd’s court. “How Do I Make You Love Me?” discusses how uncomfortable it is to desperately seek the approval of another person, even more so when that desperation is unfamiliar. On other songs, The Weeknd further explores his newfound feelings. He isn’t used to having a romantic interest that doesn’t reciprocate his feelings or has moved on from them. He’s even more bothered by the idea that the object of his affection may be sharing her affection with someone else. Or at least, he’s bothered that he suddenly cares.
Turns out changing from a carefree womanizer into lovesick puppy is hard. In many ways, The New Weeknd exhibits the emotional intelligence of a teenager. He dramatically suggests suicide when his Love is for naught, and childishly claims to be incapable of continuing a relationship if there is no guarantee that it will last forever.
Dawn FM is a bit messy in its messaging. Tesfaye occasionally references The Weeknd’s old self— intoxicated hookups, extreme wealth, et cetera. But I don’t see that as a flaw in the concept. Change is just messy and confusing. It would be unrealistic if The Weeknd’s new form were not met with some resistance.
And then there’s this: I can’t help but wonder if Dawn FM is more than just a character arc. In interviews, Tesfaye has said that his real-life personality does not much resemble the personality portrayed in his music. Is this our first in-depth glimpse of the real Abel Tesfaye? Had The Weeknd just been using a facade for the sake of performance art? Will we get more albums like this, and less like the flashy, Illuminati-evoking hits we’ve grown accustomed to?
THE MUSIC ITSELF
My answer to the last question: "I hope so." I have a great deal of admiration for The Weeknd’s work prior to Dawn FM, but this album has raised my bar for his music. Tesfaye doubles down on the ’80s nostalgia— a move I was initially weary about— and he executes it perfectly. The homages are more varied and also more authentic; still, the final product is modern. The Radio Hour structure isn’t novel but it works well here. Major bangers are lifted to new heights with extended dance-mix intros, and the kinetic energy keeps us tuned in even when the slower moments arrive.
This is Act II of Tesfaye’s sequel to Trilogy, so that leaves us waiting for another album to finish this story. After Hours is 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. Dawn FM is 5 a.m. through morning. I surmise that whatever comes next will be a sunny afternoon.
