Publish, at the gates of a pandemic, music designed for dancing madly in a club was a fatality of which The Weeknd He now makes up for himself on this tour, ‘After hours till dawn’, in which he turns a stadium into a hedonistic temple. And, above all, nocturnal, that’s what these ‘shows’ are about, to take us up to the ends of the early morning through the post-nuclear ruins of Western civilization (or something like that).
A landscape of slender skyscrapers in semi-ruins dominated the Estadi this Thursday, telling us about the (imprecise) threat that hangs over us, humans. A globe floating over the audience, and a silver android, and about thirty subjects in white robes with the air of a ‘new age’ sect. And the mister artist? Jumping from one stage to another, and from there to the catwalk, camouflaged under his mask (for half a concert), and singing with rigor and feeling, although it was easy to fear that the show was bigger than him.
blurred charisma
The ‘show’ outweighed the charisma of Canadian Abel Tesfaye, The Weeknd, a holy hand for pop creation with r’n’b ascendancy, but somewhat faded in his own blockbuster. The songs were the soul of the concert, underpinned by those last two albums, ‘After hours’ (2020) and ‘Dawn FM’ (2022): the triad of songs opens, with ‘Take my breath’ in the lead.
As the Pet Shop Boys sang, The Weeknd and his fans feel better in the dark, and the concert successfully built a state of mind with a view into the depths of the night, back in the ‘twilight zone’ and beyond. Minor chord songs, winding ‘tempos’, bass-rich synth sheets. From the scorching epic (calls to the Rammstein) of ‘Hurricane’, his agreement with Kanye West, to a half-time, ‘Out of time’, worthy of Michael Jackson.
narcotic sequences
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Repertoire with more than thirty songs, many of them linked, influencing the creation of long sequences of music with narcotic effects. Well built, moving the public here and there with the pop tune of ‘I feel it coming’ or promoting the ceremonial soul in ‘Die for you’. Already with his face uncovered, and while a circle of rays of light protected himself towards the sky, The Weeknd’s sensual voice gained projection in ‘Is there somewhere else?’, on the way to a stormy ‘Call out my name’. Moment of alert: a fleeting hum of ‘La fame’, his duet with Rosalía.
Tesfaye is a study and laboratory rat, but after all, he managed to keep the Estadi on edge, leaving his most transparent numbers for last. Like that ‘Blinding lights’, very synth-pop, in which she dazzled her people just as, the lyrics say, so often happens in a club at dawn.