The Weeknd’s 2015 full-length, Beauty Behind The Madness, was an R&B behemoth. You really couldn’t walk through any shopping centre, or channel hop between music channels, without hearing him serenade you with tales of drugs and debauchery. And this is the beauty of Abel Tesfaye’s style; he never speaks of anything too complex. Lyrics deal with such topics as the overuse of cocaine and being the ‘other man’ and never dwell thematically on anything too heavy. The novelty of his style is that his profanity-heavy lyrics wouldn’t be out of place on a bland trap-rapper’s material (read: Young Thug and Rae Sremmurd) but his silky smooth falsetto delivery means that he makes even the most braggadocios and hyper-sexualised line sound romantic.
Since Beauty Behind The Madness, the pop music industry has seen a barrage of copycats that just shamelessly duplicate its mercurial sound. Therefore, the market is now completely oversaturated with cheap reproductions of The Weeknd. With this in mind, on his follow up, Tesfaye must offer something completely different and yet keep the edge and character that made him so popular in the first place. And with self-titled lead single, Starboy, with its subtle Daft Punk production and bouncing rhythms, we almost believed he’d managed it.
The album sprints through the gate like an Olympian on top form. Party Monster is a trap-flavoured banger in which Abel details his obsession with a ‘party girl’ he spies at a party. One of the more leftfield cuts on the record, False Alarm sees The Weeknd shed the anthemic chorus formula he usually relies on in favour of an EDM style drop and dance beat. The off kilter shrieks before and during every hook are as experimental as The Weeknd has ever been. Both Secrets and True Colours employ an 80s pop inspiration with the latter wearing its Michael Jackson influence clearly on its sleeve.
And then we reach the pointless interlude, Stargirl, with an even more pointless feature from Americana-pop warbler Lana Del Rey. Much like a spike strip on a busy motorway, this stops the album dead in its tracks with a very jarring change of pace and a ludicrously long fade-out.
This stumbling point is briefly remedied by smooth, auto-tuned soul track, Sidewalks, with an impressive cameo from ever-conquering hip-hop heavyweight Kendrick Lamar. But this turns out to be one of the few memorable tracks of the 9 songs left. A Lonely Night once again channels a lot of Michael Jackson influence and album closer I Feel It Coming contends seriously for the catchiest track on the whole record, but even with these exceptions, the second half of Starboy is a minefield of generic beats and forgettable melodies which is, at times, a real slog to get through.
Ultimately, Starboy is let down in a similar way to The Weeknd’s previous release. Too many unremarkable filler tracks mean that the album feels a lot longer than it actually is (and considering this album is actually over an hour in length, that is a hell of a feat in itself). This honestly had the potential to be one of the best pop albums of the year had it been cut back to its best songs only.
6/10
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