6 Takeaways From the Weeknd’s New Album, After Hours

Noah Yoo
·5 min read

Last December, the Weeknd returned with a vengeance. After laying low for a couple of years following the release of My Dear Melancholy, Abel Tesfaye was suddenly everywhere at once. He debuted a new look—ostentatious sunglasses, crimson suit, equally bloody nose—and performed new singles on late-night TV. Meanwhile, he could be seen getting into fights with Adam Sandler while playing a caricature of himself in the Safdie Brothers’ acclaimed thriller Uncut Gems. A new record was clearly on the way, but details remained scarce until February, when the singer finally detailed his next full-length, After Hours.

Clocking in at 14 tracks, the Weeknd’s fourth album bridges the two overarching eras that define his career to date: his early period as a shadowy, Cocteau Twins-sampling crooner, and his subsequent pivot to arena-ready (though no less profane) pop star. The collaborators on After Hours reflect this mix, with radio staples like Max Martin and Metro Boomin alongside Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker and Uncut Gems score composer Daniel Lopatin (aka Oneohtrix Point Never). And of course, it wouldn’t be the Weeknd if he wasn’t singing about drugs and lust. Let’s dive in.

Diamond in the Rough

Uncut Gems may be one of the keys to understanding After Hours. Set in 2012, the film blends the fictional narrative of jeweler and gambler Howard Ratner (Sandler) with various real-life occurrences, one of which is the Weeknd’s ascent to stardom. Tesfaye (as himself) is a prospective client who comes to blows with Howard over a bathroom rendezvous with his mistress. Blinded by his uncontrollable desire for high stakes, Howard struggles with himself throughout the movie. In a way, the Weeknd portrays a similar character on After Hours. The album tracks the deterioration of a relationship from beginning to end, with Tesfaye vacillating between flashy arrogance and pathetic, drug-addled self-pitying.

The Uncut Gems part also directly led to the studio sessions between Tesfaye and Daniel Lopatin, which yielded “four or five amazing tracks,” according to director Josh Safdie. On the three After Hours tracks where Lopatin appears, his influence is palpable: His twinkling synths and ever-evolving textures lend depth to the productions.

Bring in the Vibes Brigade

After Hours retains many of the characteristics of past Weeknd albums, in large part thanks to its cast of collaborators. Longtime Weeknd producer Illangelo returns, as does Max Martin, who helped Tesfaye hit No. 1 in 2015 with “Can’t Feel My Face.” Martin dominates the back half of the album with catchy cuts like “Blinding Lights” and “In Your Eyes.” Metro Boomin, who had a cut on Starboy, links up with Illangelo for a captivating mid-album run that includes “Escape From LA,” lead single “Heartless,” and drug ode “Faith.” This is the first Weeknd album with no credited features, but there are a couple new friends lurking in the shadows; Kevin Parker co-wrote and produced “Repeat After Me (Interlude),” alongside Lopatin and Tesfaye.

I Love the ’80s

The tropes and production choices of the 1980s play a massive part on After Hours. Songs like “Blinding Lights” and “Save Your Tears” evoke synth-pop artists like Flock of Seagulls, and “In Your Eyes” features saxophone solos and horn arrangements so gaudy they’d make Duran Duran blush. Even songs that don’t take direct influence from the period, like “Alone Again” or the UK-garage-inflected “Too Late,” play with the synth arpeggios and pulsating atmospherics of synthwave, the microgenre that cribs from quintessentially-’80s movie soundtracks.

Sex, Drugs… You Get It

For fans who look to the Weeknd for toxic bars about getting high and having sex, After Hours certainly won’t disappoint. The usual references to pills and lines are scattered throughout, but nowhere is Tesfaye’s fixation more apparent than on “Faith,” where he uses his drug dependency as a device to discuss his newfound nihilism and drops in an R.E.M. reference along the way. Near the end of the album, the allure of addiction falls away to reveal sadness; on “After Hours” and album closer “Until I Bleed Out,” he finally recognizes how his actions have destroyed his relationship and left him with nothing.

Retrovision

It’s been almost a decade since the Weeknd broke through with House of Balloons, and while he’s reflected on his career in past records, After Hours finds him navel-gazing just a little more. On “Snowchild,” he revisits his come-up in wintry Toronto and boasts about how far he’s come, putting himself in the pantheon with JAY-Z and Eminem in one breath, and vowing to reject the excesses of fame in the next. “Heartless” is an unsettled rumination on how massive success hasn’t fixed all his problems. Tesfaye might be singing about the same shit as always, but we’re supposed to believe that he’s evolved since his days spent courting glass table girls.

Notable Weeknd-isms

  • “She like my futuristic sounds in the new spaceship/Futuristic sex, give her Phillip K. Dick” (“Snowchild”)

  • “I’m in the Spyder Porsche cruisin’ down the street/Black on black venom colored seats/Keanu Reeves, the way a nigga speed” (“Escape from LA”)

  • “She a cold-hearted bitch with no shame/But her throat too fire/She got Chrome Hearts hangin’ from her neck/And them shits going wild” (“Escape From LA”)

  • “But if I OD, I want you to OD right beside me/I want you to follow right behind me/I want you to hold me while I'm smiling/While I’m dying” (“Faith”)

  • “You don’t love him if you’re thinking of me/You don’t love him, you’re just fucking/You’re just fucking, it means nothing to me” (“Repeat After Me (Interlude)”)

Originally Appeared on Pitchfork