The Weeknd Beauty Behind the Madness (XO/Republic) ⋆⋆⋆⋆
R&B is a genre that has, ostensibly, long been about one thing and one thing only. You know which thing. It’s become clichéd to the point that a few of its more successful recent exponents – take Aloe Blacc for example – have opted to turn their gaze far beyond the keyhole of the bedroom door.
The hitherto unploughed third option to distinguish yourself from the R&B crowd is to make everything so full-on explicitly about that one thing that it’s impossible to see anything past the full-frontal subject matter.
Welcome to the world of Abel Tesfaye, aka The Weeknd. With this second LP, which has topped the album charts on both sides of the Atlantic, the 25-year-old Canadian is now a bona fide sensation.
It’s not difficult to see why. While his lyrics are direct to the point of making even experienced campaigners blush, they are soundtracked by spaced-out backdrops that take the whole show firmly into the club. Sonically, it’s unlike almost anything else out there.
Beauty Behind the Madness is undisputedly packed full of, to use the parlance of American music fans, straight-up jams.
The Hills is the first stop-what-you’re-doing moment with its watery tempos doing for R&B what the chopped-and-screwed style achieved for hip-hop. And when Tesfaye intones “I only call you when it’s half-past-five”, it’s safe to say he’s not dialling up his love to ask what the time is.
It’s unapologetically sleazy without being saccharine, despite Tesfaye’s syrup-slick timbre — and weirdly romantic.
Can't Feel My Face goes a bit up-tempo, Bruno Mars-style funky, and has its hit-single status writ large all over it.
And we probably don't need to go into Earned It in too much detail beyond mentioning that it originally appeared on the Fifty Shades of Grey movie soundtrack.
Tesfaye isn’t afraid to enlist big-name guests from outside his immediate musical sphere, either, specifically the disparate trio of Labrinth (who will play in Abu Dhabi next month), Ed Sheeran and Lana Del Rey. Truthfully, though, they’re not required. Tesfaye has his own thing going on.
About the only criticism that could be levelled at Tesfaye is the prevalence of misogynist terms splashed across Beauty Behind the Madness, even if he almost manages to make such insults sound endearing.
Struggle past those lyrical misjudgements, however, and you’re looking at a contender for album of the year.
aworkman@thenational.ae
