Having followed The Weeknd since his 2015 album Beauty Behind the Madness, I – like many – eagerly anticipated his latest release, Hurry Up Tomorrow. With billboards leading up to its release declaring ‘THE END IS NEAR’, The album delivers on its apocalyptic promise, completing the trilogy that began with After Hours in 2020. 

Hurry Up Tomorrow is an album that draws attention to The Weeknd’s artistry, refusing to sacrifice intricate creative expression for riveting pop moments. The result is an album that maintains the brilliance of older albums, but not for lack of ideas as its length – whilst admittedly slightly bloated – invites the listener to enjoy an immersive cinematic experience – an epic odyssey chronicling the rise and fall of The Weeknd. With electronic instrumentals grounding a journey through a futuristic cityscape, we are left hanging onto The Weeknd’s every word, with the exhilaration in his vocal performances providing a divine guide through this album’s epic journey. 

The album opens with haunting synths in ‘Wake Me Up’, setting a precedent of nihilistic doom. Tesfaye’s vocals, filled with weary foreboding, reinforce the album’s theme of finality: “All I have is my legacy… No afterlife, no other side”. There’s no mistaking that this is the swan song of his alter-ego. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be The Weeknd without his signature electronic seduction: São Paulo’s Brazilian electro-funk delivers, a classic example of an upbeat moment underscored by tension. “I can’t sing, I can’t fucking sing”; the track’s introduction hauntingly reminds the popstar of his traumatic So-Fi Stadium incident where he lost his voice. The track is monotonous and messy – but that’s the point – he is desperate to escape self-destruction. 

The album comes to settle into an atmospheric haze, with ‘Baptized in Fear’ exploring the lingering anxiety and pressure to continue, as Tesfaye sings “Voices tell me that I should carry on / I’ve been baptized in fear, my dear”. The mood is one of tortured exhaustion, bleeding into the subsequent tracks. In ‘The Abyss’, Lana Del Rey lends her ethereal vocals to a haunting farewell to the Stargirl and Starboy, embracing the inevitable passage of time with aching beauty. 

As we move into the album’s titular final track, The Weeknd proclaims he is “drowning in the same tub where I learned how to swim”, a tragic full circle moment. At the end of the track this notion is then cemented as the track appears to seamlessly transition into the beginning of ‘High For This’, the first track on The Weeknd’s 2011 debut, House of Balloons, ending the character of ‘The Weeknd’ in the cycle of self-destruction he came from. 

Hurry Up Tomorrow may not be packed with the same algorithmic hits that permeate The Weeknd’s earlier albums, but it is conceptually rich. Long-time fans are sure to find cathartic beauty in the conclusion of his persona’s journey. It could be shorter, but Abel Tesfaye has cemented his legacy in the industry, earning the creative freedom to experiment in this way.