The Weeknd has always delivered albums that feel like cinematic experiences. They offer a blend of lush production, evocative lyrics, and an ever-present air of introspection. With “Hurry Up Tomorrow,” this is one last look into Abel Tesfaye’s mythos. This is supposedly his final album using the moniker “The Weeknd.” It finishes a trilogy starting with the distinctive paths laid out in “After Hours” and “Dawn FM.” This album carries the weight of finality while exploring familiar themes with fresh sonic nuances.

“Hurry Up Tomorrow” is an ambitious production that runs 84 minutes. It combines modern electronic sounds, vintage synth textures, and the emotional depth of classic R&B. When listening to this album, particularly the last half, the tracks all seemed to blend into one another. I often found I had to check which track I was listening to. The same can be said for most of the first half. This is particularly true between Baptized in Fear and Open Hearts, two standout tracks.

It is not necessarily Tesfaye’s best work (I will leave that with “Dawn FM”). But he has still created a profound and – considering its length – enjoyable album that completes his current trilogy. It fits.

This is just short of Beatles “White Album” length!

First, let me get this out of the way. Its opening singles are São Paulo and Timeless (with Playboy Carti). While they are bangers, they are not for me. The latter mixes rap and R&B, while the former is Brazilian funk. It’s nice to hear Tesfaye reach out into these areas, and they are well-executed, but… I wouldn’t miss them.

The album launches with Wake Me Up (feat. Justice). The track pulses with infectious French house beats and features dynamic electronic rhythms. Its vibrant energy sets the tone. The album is both forward-thinking and steeped in the sounds that have defined The Weeknd’s career (you can hear how reminiscent it is of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” showcasing Justice’s signature production style.) He starts by admitting that he has nothing but his legacy: the statement, “All I have is my legacy.“

“I’ve been losing my memory. No afterlife, no other side. I’m all alone when it fades to black.“

Cry for Me is one of the album’s most emotionally raw and striking tracks. The song establishes a heavy, introspective tone early in the album. It digs deep into themes of heartbreak and regret and explores the emotional toll of fame.

The production feels immersive from the outset. It is built around dark, brooding synths. A pulsating bassline recalls the atmospheric intensity of The Hills. The instrumental swells and contracts, mirroring the emotional push-and-pull in the lyrics. Tesfaye’s vocals are drenched in reverb, adding to the track’s ghostly, distant feel, as if he’s singing from deep isolation. He sings, “I hope that I live life for a reason. But at least you’ll play this song. When I’m gone.” 

It is a plea for shared pain, an expression of frustration at a love that seems one-sided in suffering. Lines such as “And I hope you cry for me like I cry for you” are direct and impactful. They emphasize the song’s message. There’s a desperation in how he delivers these words. This isn’t just about sadness. It’s about resentment. It’s about wanting proof that the love meant as much to the other person as it did to him. 

The imagery of a “penthouse prison” reinforces the loneliness that comes with success, a recurring theme in Tesfaye’s work.

Cry for Me‘s blend of vulnerability and arrogance makes it particularly compelling. There’s a sense of wounded pride as if the song’s narrator can’t stand the thought of suffering alone. This emotional contradiction—between wanting love and revenge—makes the song compelling.

Cry for Me is a highlight of “Hurry Up Tomorrow.” It is one of the more intimate and confessional moments. This song showcases Tesfaye’s ability to blend personal storytelling with grand, cinematic production. Love it.

Another highlight is Baptized in Fear, showcasing his signature blend of dark, brooding R&B and cinematic production. The song taps into themes of emotional turmoil, redemption, and self-destruction, which have long been central to Tesfaye’s artistic identity.

The production is a perfect marriage of haunting synths, reverb-drenched vocals, and a slow-burning beat that gradually intensifies. Tesfaye’s voice is drenched in melancholy, gliding effortlessly between smooth falsettos and raw, pleading tones. The lyrics describe a person caught in a cycle of fear and temptation. They are struggling to escape from past sins.

We then have the seamless transition to Open Hearts. The song highlights Tesfaye’s ability to fuse nostalgic synth-pop influences with deep, introspective songwriting. The production is sleek and futuristic, built on a glitchy, 1980s-inspired instrumental that maintains a modern edge. It pulsates with an almost hypnotic energy, making it both danceable and emotionally charged.

Lyrically, the song explores themes of vulnerability and redemption. It reflects a journey from emotional detachment to a willingness to embrace love and connection. Lines like “Trapped inside a limbo, watching through a window” capture a sense of longing and self-imposed isolation. These feelings are reminiscent of The Weeknd’s earlier themes of hedonism clashing with loneliness.

Vocally, Tesfaye delivers a restrained and deeply expressive performance, gliding between smooth falsettos and subtle, aching tones. His delivery complements the song’s emotional weight, enhancing its impact without overpowering the atmospheric production.

Reflections Laughing features collaborations with American rapper Travis Scott. It also includes work with the English indie band Florence + the Machine.

The track opens with ethereal synths and delicate guitar strums, creating a serene atmosphere that complements Tesfaye’s introspective lyrics. He delves into themes of anxiety and the pressures of fame, singing lines like, “I won’t make a sound. Blood on the ground. When they take my crown.” This sets a contemplative tone, exploring the darker facets of success and public scrutiny.

A notable feature of the song is it has an interlude. A phone rings first. Then, you hear ice clinking in a glass of whiskey. This moment is a sort of a metaphor for the isolation and coping mechanisms often associated with stardom. The interlude transitions seamlessly into Travis Scott’s verse, delivered with a chopped-and-screwed effect that pays homage to his Houston roots. His staccato, auto-tuned flow adds depth to the track. It addresses themes of indulgence and tackles the internal conflicts accompanying a high-profile lifestyle.

The next track, Enjoy The Show (feat. Future), is great. Musically, the song features an R&B laid-back beat adorned with a soulful sample, creating a melancholic yet captivating atmosphere. The production provides a fitting backdrop for both artists’ introspective and somber lyrics.

Future’s vocal starts with “I can’t feel my face anymore. I don’t wanna give you any space anymore.” (an obvious nod to Tesfaye’s 2015 hit Can’t Feel My Face). Tesfaye later sings, “I just wanna die when I’m at my fuckin’ peak.” Ahh, the internal struggles associated with addiction and the pressures of public life…

Given Up on Me is interesting. It brings back Future. This happens on its fun bridge, “Why won’t you let me sleep? Why won’t you let me go? Why won’t you let me try? Why won’t you let me die?“

It’s two songs in one, with a lot of deepness… when you scratch into the surface. It explores the internal chaos of someone grappling with addiction. They face a loss of self-worth and struggle with the difficulty of escaping destructive relationships. It’s a deep track that demands a listen.

“Ooh, Lord. I want your company. Ooh, oh, Lord, oh, Lord.

Don’t you give up on me?“

For me, I Can’t Wait To Get There is just a sleek, smooth transition into the album’s second half. Sonically, the song leans into a dreamy, synth-heavy soundscape. It features shimmering pads and a pulsating bassline. This creates a sense of movement. It’s as if the track propels the listener forward into an unknown destination. Other than the transition tracks, it may be one of the shortest tracks on the album. It doesn’t wear out its welcome.

After Timeless, I call a time-out, and we move into the second part of The Weeknd’s album.

We get to Niagara Falls. Like a few of these songs, it is divided into two sections. It blends seamlessly into the next song, Take Me Back to L.A.. You probably wouldn’t even notice it.

Niagara Falls samples Someone to Love by Jon B. and Babyface (“Long in my life, I wouldn’t let love inside. Long in my life, I wouldn’t let love inside. But I swallowed my pride.”) infusing it with a very smooth R&B and pop beat that complements Tesfaye’s signature style.  

It’s just a really lovely pop song. Adorable.

And then Take Me Back to L.A. It paints a picture of longing for the past. The image is tinged with regret and disillusionment. He grapples with the reality of fame. The personal sacrifices that have come with it add to his struggle.

Musically, the track leans into a hazy, synth-driven, 80’s production. It features shimmering pads and a slow, hypnotic beat, which gives it an almost dreamlike quality. The atmospheric soundscape mirrors the song’s themes of nostalgia. It reflects detachment. It makes the song feel like a memory playing on a loop. The Weeknd’s signature falsetto glides effortlessly over the production, his voice carrying a weight of sadness and resignation.

Lyrically, Take Me Back to L.A. explores returning to a place that no longer feels the same. Lines like “I left my heart in the hills” express a feeling of alienation. They suggest that the hills “don’t know me no more.” This feeling of being disconnected comes with success. The city that once symbolized ambition and excitement now feels empty. It has become unrecognizable. He experiences internal conflict. He reminisces about the highs and lows of his rise to fame. He questions if the journey was worth it.

The chorus is particularly haunting. Its refrain feels both pleading and resigned—as if he knows he can never truly go back. The production swells subtly in the background, reinforcing the idea that he’s trapped in a cycle of longing and loss. As the song fades out, it leaves a lingering sense of melancholy. This makes it one of the more emotionally resonant moments on the album.

I won’t go into Big Sleep (feat. Giorgio Moroder) because The Billboard puts it so eloquently in their review, to be honest: A woozy lullaby downshifts the album down a few notches as The Weeknd pivots to “Big Sleep,” which samples the 1978 Midnight Express theme song. Initially previewed in 2021, the downtrodden opera feels like more of a haunting palette cleanser setting Abel up for a grand final act. 

Give Me Mercy is a standout track. It explores themes of guilt and temptation and delves into a profound yearning for redemption, in this case, from God.

Musically, the track is characterized by its driving, synth-heavy production that creates an ethereal soundscape. Tesfaye’s haunting vocals add a layer of vulnerability, enhancing the song’s emotional depth.

Lyrically, Give Me Mercy serves as a heartfelt plea for forgiveness. Tesfaye reflects on his past transgressions, expressing remorse and a desire for spiritual cleansing. He acknowledges the deceptive allure of temptations, which incite internal battles. He seeks solace and mercy from a higher power.

Drive is a synth-pop song with a driving rhythm and propulsive beat that creates a sense of movement. The Weeknd’s vocals convey the thrill of pursuing one’s dreams, reflecting a desire for simplicity amidst a chaotic life. 

A standout moment comes with The Abyss (feat. Lana Del Rey). The haunting duet combines Lana’s ethereal vocal presence with Tesfaye’s introspective delivery, creating an emotionally charged and sonically captivating track. The Abyss encapsulates the push and pull of passion and despair. Tesfaye and Lana Del Rey engage in a haunting dialogue about desire.

I just love the opening piano as a starter. They then explore the darkness that often accompanies it. The mood gradually intensifies with the addition of emotive synths and deep basslines. Tesfaye’s vocals convey a sense of anguish and introspection. He reflects on decisions made too late to reverse. (“The only words that gave me life,
Now I’ll see you on the other side“). Lyrically, he confronts themes of mortality and regret, expressing a desperate grasp for meaning in the face of oblivion.

Lana Del Rey’s contribution in the outro adds a ghostly, ethereal layer to the track (“If you’re looking for ragin‘ Quiet for days.. Baby, running away“.) Her almost detached voice delivers lines that evoke a sense of inevitability and resignation, enhancing the song’s exploration of despair and the human condition.

It is a compelling and introspective piece that showcases the collaborative synergy between Tesfaye and Lana Del Rey — it always has.

And following The Abyss, we get Red Terror. This is where I really thought, “Gee, the second half of this album is better than the first!”

There is not much to Red Terror other than its history. It blends so well with the next track, Without Warning, that you wouldn’t notice it (lyrically, at least). But it explores themes of personal trauma and historical trauma. It draws inspiration from the Ethiopian Red Terror, a period of political violence in Ethiopia during the late 1970s.

Musically, Red Terror is intense and explosive, capturing the chaos and urgency associated with personal turmoil. The production is aggressive, featuring a blend of dark synths and a driving beat, mirroring the song’s heavy subject matter. Tesfaye’s vocals are haunting and powerful, conveying a deep sense of anguish and reflection.

Lyrically, the song reflects on the harrowing experiences of those who lived through the Red Terror. Lines vividly depict the fear and violence of the time. Tesfaye’s connection to this history adds authenticity to the track. It provides emotional depth as he channels the collective memory of his heritage into his music.

Red Terror stands out as a significant piece in The Weeknd’s discography. It merges personal history with broader historical events. Its intense production, poignant lyrics, and evocative visuals create a powerful narrative that resonates on multiple levels.

Without a Warning follows, which sounds like the finale.

It explores themes of internal conflict and addiction. It also examines the dichotomy between The Weeknd’s persona and Abel Tesfaye, the artist’s true self.

Musically, the track is characterized by its grandiose production. It features lush synths and a driving beat, which create an anthemic atmosphere. The arrangement builds tension, reflecting the turmoil expressed in the lyrics.

Lyrically, Without a Warning, explores the struggle between maintaining a public persona and confronting personal demons. The Weeknd reflects on the cyclical nature of his lifestyle, acknowledging the self-destructive patterns he finds himself in. Lines like “I’m stuck in a cycle, just wanna feel life from the morning” highlight his desire for change. They also express the difficulty in breaking free from established habits. The song also touches on the fear of losing creativity. It addresses the excitement he might lose if he were to adopt sobriety. He admits, “I should’ve been sober, but I can’t afford to be boring.“

Hearing all of the crowd cheering at the end makes you think, well… this is the end.

Except it isn’t quite a bit.

It’s probably my favorite, and the final track that finishes this massive but delightful album. Hurry Up Tomorrow rounds out the album with a sense of resigned finality. Its measured pace is deliberate. The reflective lyrics highlight the inevitability of change and invite listeners to contemplate the cost of fame and personal choices. He states he wants to change.

“So I see Heaven after life
I want Heaven when I die
I want to change
I want the pain no more, oh, yeah
No, I need Heaven after life
I want Heaven when I die
I wanna change.

I want the pain, no more, no more, no more.“

At its core, Hurry Up Tomorrow explores time, loss, and the burdens of celebrity. The Weeknd uses the album to confront familiar themes with an air of finality.

“no more.”

Conclusion

“Hurry Up Tomorrow” is a reflective milestone in The Weeknd’s discography. The album may signal a definitive farewell to a well-known persona or perhaps represent a metamorphosis into a new creative chapter. Or not?

But I definitely want more.

Chris Garrod, February 25, 9.5/10