Review Summary: Go tell your friends.
Welcome one and all to GreenMilkCrate's first annual GRAMMY ALBUM OF THE YEAR ROASTACULAR!
I'm going to be taking the next three weeks to review the Grammy Album of the Year nominees. Should be loads of fun. For me, not the artists. Luckily I don't really believe in karma, because I would be getting truckloads of bad karma dumped in me.
The first album on my hit list is The Weeknd's latest album, "Beauty Behind the Madness." This is my first exposure to him, but I plan to dig into his back catlogue when I finish the Roastacular.
Now, I'm not one to use ad hominem to back up my points, but my goodness, The Weeknd has the dumbest hair on any human I've ever seen. And I go to a liberal arts college, so I am wholly qualified to judge him. Luckily, with this album, "Beauty Behind the Madness," I don't have to worry about his hair, just what's on his mind. Was that an intentional twenty one pilots reference?
Why yes. It was. Moving on.
And speaking of what's on his mind, Mr. Abel Tesfaye has only a couple of things on his mind: sex, drugs, and sadness. This comes across in the lyrics with stories of one night stands, heartbreak, and the inability to feel his face. These themes and subjects come across not only in the lyrics, but in the production, which is moody, slow, and expansive, like Abel is playing these songs for you in the back of your brain.
Sparse, echoey percussion lays down a foundation for fuzzy, syrupy synths, which fly out of nothing and into your ears and get lodged in your brain, like musical harpoons and you're a blubbery whale. While most of the album sticks to this drum/bass/synth formula, the best and most memorable moments on the album are the songs that have just a little bit more color, like the acoustic guitar that drives "Shameless," the snarling electric guitar in "Dark Times" that feel like an angry lover scratching your eyes out The beat change-up that becomes a synthetic big band jam in "Losers." One of the best beats of the album.
Not to say the normal contemporary R&B schtick isn't good, for the most part, the beats are funky as sin, which they are intended to soundtrack. Some of my favorites are "In the Night," which undulates with dubstep waves and some rattling percussion. And how can I not talk about the numbed up smash that is "Can't Feel My Face"? How can you not shake something on your body as you listen to that song?! With that revving up and that nearly orgasmic explosion into the hook, and then mm mm Mmm. That bassline is so simple but it works so well at getting you off your feet and onto the dance floor or into the bedroom. But out of all of the instrumentals on the album, my favorite is the closer, "Angel," with its legitimately epic arrangement of strings, a children's choir, guitar and drum hits, and not to mention Abel's vocals are the most earnest, powerful and urgent that they are on the album, which culminates in a spine-chilling finish. “Earned It” takes some cues from “Angel” with the strings and glittering pianos, but ultimately fails because of its weak rhythm section and lackluster lyrics. Being part of the 50 Shades of Grey soundtrack has nothing to do with me disliking it.
Okay, maybe a little bit.
As with the instrumentation, the lyrics of "Angel" are my favorite, with Mr. The Weeknd finally letting go of a toxic relationship that has been plaguing him the whole album, finally growing up and attempting to leave his childish, drug-fueled, sex-crazed life behind. The whole album isn’t a story about this or anything, but there are hints of Abel wanting to leave the life but then there are some moments that can be boiled down to “Oh boy! A bunch of cocaine and ecstasy! Oh goody! A girl! If I feign depression, I can sleep with her, maybe fall in love with her, get my heart broken, and I can milk a song or two of her, by golly, I wager.”
(See: “Real Life,” “Losers.”)
It’s this insane cycle of abuse that The Weeknd puts himself through that bogs down much of the album. He finds these girls, he puts himself into this situation seemingly because he can write these sexy slow jams about how broken and sad and sensitive he is, and then on songs like “Often,” he breaks this character and brags about how “[He] can make that p-ssy rain, often” which causes cognitive dissonance in my brain because I am thinking Abel is a squishy, pot-soaked man who Weezer sing about on “Can’t Stop Partying,” which I think is the perception many people have about him, and I’m not saying he shouldn’t try to break out of this mold that he’s written himself into, but on this song, he just didn’t do it well here. Luckily the lyrics are pretty good across the board, nothing too special or noteworthy beside “Can’t Feel My Face” and “Angel” which are pretty great. One standout line from “Tell Your Friends” which goes “She tried to take a selfie at my grandma's funeral” showing the depravity of some people who try to glean fame off of others.
Okay I guess I can talk about the features, too. “Dark Times” is probably the best, as Ed Sheeran pairs nicely with Abel, complimenting their voices and bringing the guitar on the song, which is as previously stated, pretty great. “Prisoner” is my least favorite song on the album pretty much exclusively because of Lana Del Rey, she is a succubus that takes all of the good and fun and color out of everything she does.
“Losers” is good, Abel being accompanied by Labrinth. I have no idea who he is, but his voice added some nice texture to the song.
I was pleasantly surprised by “Beauty Behind the Madness.” This was my first real deluge into contemporary R&B, and it was good. Catchy, dark, eerie, moody, and sexy. Everything I was expecting. While there is some filler which makes the album drag a bit near the middle, but overall, I can’t wait for next weekend. And the next Weeknd album.
Best Songs: “Angel,” “Can’t Feel My Face,” “Shameless” “Tell Your Friends.”
Worst Song: “Prisoner.”
Traveller: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/69715/Chris-Stapleton-Traveller/
Sound and Color: http://www.sputnikmusic.com/review/69738/Alabama-Shakes-Sound--Color/
1989:
To Pimp a Butterfly:
