The Weeknd has always felt like one of those artists that had peaked early in their career. His debut mixtape, House of Balloons, was one of the most important projects of the 2010s as it would pave the way for the nocturnal, atmospheric sound of modern RnB. Abel also had a hand in shaping the distinct “Toronto” sound by giving several songs to Drake for Take Care. Surrounded in mystique with overly long songs featuring hedonistic lyrics too explicit for radio play, he slowly gained momentum on the Internet before culminating in a Mod Club concert. It was a perfect, organic success story that seemed impossible to replicate. As he gained fame with radio-friendly singles like “Can’t Feel My Face” and “Starboy” over the years, the mystique faded and his music headed in a more pop-oriented direction. Emphasis on hooks, less rapping and a focus on abstract concepts instead of his signature explicitness would cause critics and fans to claim that he had sold out or lost what had made him so great in the first place. And while After Hours comes at a time when most have begun to dismiss him, Abel proves that there’s still greatness inside of him.
In reality, After Hours is more of a culmination of The Weeknd’s career arc than some decision to go back to darker sounds. Without Starboy or Beauty Behind The Madness, the finer stylistic changes in his sound would have never come into fruition. As he shifted from the pop sensibilities of BBTM towards the electronic/synth-heavy work of Starboy, he found a way to bridge the gap between the two. Even looking at his collaborative work like his 2013 feature with synthwave artist Kavinsky, we can already see how effortlessly he blended pop hooks with retro-styled synths. After Hours is the true final product of the years since Trilogy: retaining the dark, cold atmosphere found on his earlier work which then gets juxtaposed with his gorgeous falsetto hooks and melodic pop intuitions. Abandoning the danceability of Starboy for moody introspection, After Hours is the come-down, the after party of his braggadocio and hedonism. Though the concept of the after party isn’t a new one for Abel, he’s matured enough to reflect on it in a unique way.
After Hours is executed beautifully in every aspect. For this album, Abel took on an aesthetic inspired by films like Joker, Uncut Gems, and Casino. Sporting a red suit, afro, and bloody face in all of his performances and music videos, he is able to give the music a well-rounded art direction that has been lacking in previous works. The persona he plays is reflective of of the music found on After Hours: though the shining lights of fame are bright, they eventually dim and he becomes trapped with his own thoughts. Inspired by 80s horror/slasher films, his music videos feature his character becoming progressively more psychotic as his sanity unravels. As always, Abel also explores themes of heartbreak, fame, and reckless hedonism. But underneath the bright lights, he’s matured and found himself at an impasse. On “Alone Again”, he laments: ‘Take off my disguise/I’m living someone else’s life/Suppressing who I was inside.’ On “Faith”, he finds remorse in his failed relationships: ‘To go back to my old ways, don’t you cry for me/Thought I’d be a better man, but I lied to me and to you’. After Hours finds Abel much more reflective than usual as he examines the consequences of his hedonism. Though he is tortured by his flaws, he also begins to accept his emotions as he inevitably picks up the pieces of another destroyed relationship.
Enlisting the help of elite hip-hop producer Metro Boomin’ and featuring a return from Illangelo, After Hours features the downtempo noir-pop sounds of old together with the punchy, outrun synths he’s come to be associated with in recent years. The production in particular is what allows Abel to take his sound to greater heights. Where his previous work has felt always felt sleazy and brooding, After Hours feels like a darkness hidden underneath the pop sheen of the production. The contrast between the upbeat, poppy synths and dark subject matter feel like the perfect middle ground for Abel. The powerful drums on “Scared To Live Again” allows his voice to soar to the heights of his old stadium hits like “Can’t Feel My Face”. The glacial synths and echoing vocals that appear on “Faith” before dissolving into the gorgeous, ambient outro is blended phenomenally. Oneohtrix Point Never makes an appearance on “Repeat After Me (Interlude)” giving the song a psychedelic flair with his signature vocal distortions. Each track bleeds seamlessly into the next, forming an arc that builds towards a powerful climax before dissolving into the next song.
After Hours is the final product of years of honing his sound. It’s stylistically reminiscent of every era: Trilogy, Kiss Land, BBTM, and Starboy. There’s the retro 80s synthwave influence, his gorgeous falsetto hooks, the slick sheen of his pop hits, and the noir undertones of his oldest work. Abel blends these styles together so well that it’s difficult to tell where one starts and where one ends. It’s not some overly ambitious attempt at splitting personas or dividing the album: he just finds the perfect middle ground and blurs the line between his sounds. Even though the overall sound design is completely new, there’s enough callbacks to ensure that After Hours sounds distinctly like The Weeknd. Abel has finally found the perfect balance between all of his sounds.