The Weeknd Remade Pop Music. Will ‘The Idol’ Remake The Weeknd?

“I realized I could sing,” said Tesfaye. “And I thought, oh, maybe that’s the ticket.”

The early mixtapes were hazy, but they were also fully formed. Taylor said Tesfaye had a vision from the beginning of their relationship. “We used to go downtown, and we always wanted to be downtown,” he said. Taylor had a few credits left before graduating from school, and he remembers Tesfaye saying, “Fuck it, let’s get out of school.”

Surrounded by skateboarders and graffiti artists, they got deeper into drugs and eventually moved into a residence that would be commemorated as a monument. balloon house. “All the lyrics Abel was saying in the song, that was the context of our lives,” Taylor said.

At that point, the concept of pop fame would have been ridiculous. I asked Taylor if he had any theories as to why Tesfaye’s music was able to scale to such an extent. “The whole world that The Weeknd has built is something that many people have experienced consciously and subconsciously,” he said. “Drugs, sex, breakups, broken hearts, suffering after rejection, broken hearts, these are all things that people go through every day.”

always felt It’s like, if someone more famous sang those songs, they’d be number one,” Tesfaye said on the couch. In 2014, he began testing that theory, working with Swedish super-producer Max Martin, hitmaker for Britney Spears and Katy Perry. He reframed its presentation while retaining the Ruche motif, and by working in the room once occupied by Marilyn Monroe, he committed himself to a new conception of stardom almost to the parody stage. (Martin used Frank Sinatra’s former home as a recording location.) The bet raised open questions. “Could The Weeknd be the biggest pop star in the world?” new york times magazineI was asked for my profile in 2015. This problem resolved itself. beauty behind the madness, The first album with Martin that year was “kind of my answer to the naysayers who said he couldn’t make it,” said Tesfaye. He had lost part of his reticent personality and part of the mystery that inspired his initial fascination, but found a way to get more. He replaced the dimly detailed perspective of vicious sex with a bright metaphor for lovelessness. Toned down The Weeknd’s early moral decadence, this version is trending on TikToks, grocery store PAs and office cafeterias in 2023.

“My music was very cult in the beginning,” said Tesfaye. “And it eventually made its way into the mainstream, and it became the mainstream sound.”

After playing anonymously, he veered into spectacle for the second time on The Weeknd. With nearly 100 million Americans watching, at the Super Bowl, he wore the same red suit he had worn during the promotional period up until that point, but at times he was more bruised and bandaged on stage, making him look even better. Literally embodied his bloody glee. It’s more sophisticated and quieter now, but I often work in the same tone even after hours. “Whether it’s Greek mythology, a Shakespeare tragedy, or a Park Chan-wook movie, I love dark stories,” Tesfaye said. “I enjoy what it makes me feel. It makes me react.”

Given those interests, 80’s music continues to fascinate him. “He was hiding what he was saying through all these beautiful melodies,” Tesfaye said, recalling Tedros’ line in the trailer for the film. Idol: “Pop music is the ultimate Trojan horse.”

Not all of Tesfaye’s songs are purely nihilistic. There’s also a ballad — his 2016 song “Die for You” recently hit TikTok, strangely reaching number one after releasing a remix with Ariana Grande — And a state of regular union, his own trajectory with some songs he sizes up. In 2016, he released perhaps the clearest statement of purpose, “Reminder.” The year before, he had cemented his place in pop with his first number one hit, the ecstatic Nickelodeon-approved “Can’t Feel My Face.” And this time, in a sweet voice, he gave a gentle explanation: “I’ve won a new award for a children’s show / I’m talking about things that make my face go numb / I’m like, motherfucker, I’m not a teen choice.”

King Doberman of Tesfaye, Caesar began to get excited. His owner soothed him with a chew toy and he fell asleep while we were talking. “People are like, ‘Oh my God, you’re such a nice guy,'” Tesfaye told me. “And it feels good to me.” He sometimes struggles to draw the line between character and personality, but most of the time he doesn’t have to. Although he described the villainous role as “a responsibility I have to take,” he rarely played the role as a celebrity. Strictly speaking, he is not obscure. His relationships played out as tabloid stories, his lyrics had a fiery intensity, and his last album included contributions from Jim Carrey and Quincy Jones. However, he remains fairly illegible, if not blank. Pop became impenetrably pure.

Tesfaye thrived through a self-contained world of its own making instead of accessibility. It grew and grew in isolation. “No one can dance or sing better than Beyoncé,” he said. “There are a lot of less famous musicians who definitely beat me in dancing. But they can’t do what I’m doing as The Weeknd.”

The power of his early aesthetic meant that it could repurpose its cold, fluttering grievances while still polishing its sleazy side for more broadly accepted ideas. The Weeknd grunts and shimmers in a contemporary look, performing songs as part of an overarching character act. This approach gave him versatility while also getting deeper into his own mythology.

“Just like the Muppets,” said Tesfaye, almost giddy with laughter. “Muppets to space, Muppets to New York.”