Abel Tesfaye's dark, twisted album is at odds with the glossy pop world he's been thrust into. Co-written by Max Martin, "Can't Feel My Face" replaced direct references to Tesfaye's favorite things (cocaine and sex) with PG-13 allusions—a Weeknd song that's fun for the whole family. Tesfaye’s vocal model here is clearly the Michael Jackson of Thriller and Bad. A better title would be The Brokenness Behind the Emptiness. This isn’t an album as much as it is a burgeoning pop epic that’s likely to develop into something more ostentatious. Not quite. The pounding, orchestral ‘Tell Your Friends’ (co-produced with Kanye West) similarly sullies an industrial-strength beat with lyrics that come off as tasteless, even for The Weeknd (“Pussy on the house/Everybody fuckin’”). However, in feeling like the extrapolation of the “take your nose off my keyboard” line from Drake and The Weeknd’s 2011 collaboration “Crew Love,” it’s a fine “Part II” of that well-regarded instant classic. Abel Tesfaye — the mysterious pop innovator who records as the Weeknd — set a weird new standard for gloomy self-indulgence in R&B when he came out of Canada a few years back. As well as the misery, he’s also retained the explicit lyrics that characterised ‘Kiss Land’. Reviewed in the United States on September 4, 2017. Tesfaye has made a career singing nasty things in a sweet voice, but there are moments on Beauty, like "Prisoner", his soul-searching duet with Lana Del Rey, where he finally sounds like he's engaging with this persona critically, making his audience question themselves for singing along so easily this whole time. You can still see all customer reviews for the product. Our star protagonist produced this one too, and Del Ray’s performance, in particular, makes this track Grammy worthy. Put this on repeat, it's my jam. Top subscription boxes – right to your door, See all details for Beauty Behind The Madness, © 1996-2020, Amazon.com, Inc. or its affiliates. It can be yours too! Stevie Wonder sang a snippet of it onstage in New York earlier this month. Want more Rolling Stone? I know he was making an admitted play for pop stardom a la Michael Jackson with this cd but not all songs fall into that easily listenable and catchy refrain. "Real Life" already helps set the bar to a new high, and as everything else unfolds, you can't help but smile. In and of itself, that’s impressive.
The “beauty behind the madness” to which this album is referring is that The Weeknd has seemingly succeeded in seamlessly integrating his stage persona with his personal life.
But as always when discussing all things The Weeknd, it’s in his work with Illangelo that he’s best showcased. This fits great in my 50lb cd book in my car. In the past year Abel Tesfaye, who began releasing mixtapes of murky R&B as The Weeknd in 2011, has pulled off a number of prime pop coups. For her birthday I bought her the CD and she loves this entire album.
The three mixtapes he self-released in 2011 (collected one year later as his full-length Trilogy) and his proper major-label debut, 2013’s Kiss Land, all seemed suspended in a predawn haze, where partying gets dark and drugs feel more like quicksand than rocket fuel. But no matter what you call this guy, you have to say that he’s a lover, a fighter, a player and a loner. I would not recommend this CD for youngsters.
All those Explicit tags are well warranted. Guest vocals from East London R&B singer Labrinth – a rare non-talent show signing to Simon Cowell’s label Syco – are swamped in gloopy production and piano-funk on ‘Losers’. 1 with first week sales of over 300,000.
Often his Michael moves feel less like influence than impersonation — but there’s plenty of Eighties love to go around, from the Tracy Chapman-like coffee-shop croon on “Shameless” to the Phil Collins-esque power-ballad tsunami “Angel.” The throwback feel works best when it’s used to give this shadowy artist some emotional or biographical color. 1 smash “Can’t Feel My Face” was accelerating up the charts. Send us a tip using our anonymous form. “I Can’t Feel My Face” allows pop songwriter/producer extraordinaire Max Martin to remake Michael Jackson’s disco hit “Off The Wall” and make it into a cheeky ode to doing Tony Montana in. The Weeknd built a huge cult audience by sucking listeners into his lavishly appointed Batcave. "Tell Your Friends" reflects on Tesfaye's rise over six crystalline minutes that rank among the best in his career. The drums stabbing through the string-laden melody and deep into the bassline definitely have a sense of BDSM-style impact, which take The Weeknd’s lyrics about “caring for” a “perfect” lady to an intensely twisted emotional space. The album plays like a victory lap, with Tesfaye revisiting past glories and embellishing them, and when he harnesses his gift, the results are impossible to argue with. Seems like I can get the new album no problem for under $25 but this one was always upwards of $35-50 bucks just for the black vinyl. But Abel Tesfaye never seems confused about who exactly who he is: a man who longs for love but who knows that his appetite for casual sex, his aversion to commitment and his tendency toward violence will likely prevent him from ever finding it. Reviewed in the United States on April 4, 2019. In being a number that’s more than the number of times he swallows ecstasy but certainly less than the times he snorts cocaine, the art of tireless love making is certainly a creative trope upon which this album treads often. Del Ray intones, “I can feel my soul burning, burning slow.” (Neither she nor Tesfaye seem motivated to deal with that internal vacuum.) The Weeknd is the name Abel Tesfaye chooses to use when he’s performing. “The Hills,” for instance, also delivers this brag: “I just f—ed two b–ches ‘fore I saw you.” Extremely crude references to oral sex mingle with alcohol on “Tell Your Friends,” a song that eventually devolves into an obscenely described orgy. But my biggest beaf with this CD is that there is no song or album info displayed while playing the disc! Add in some fantastic production and the combination is deadly! On this album, it’s so prevalent that if Republic Records had the temerity to replace the disco era moon face with a spoonful of cocaine going up its nose from Studio 54 with Abel Tesfaye’s visage as the album’s cover art, it wouldn’t be too crazy of a notion.
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