Photograph by Randall Vasquez
The Weeknd’s narrative is common knowledge. His unfolding appeared before our very eyes in the last four years, much of which occurred under Drake’s popularity burst. His ascent, wrapped in three mixtapes now known as The Trilogy, is a direct product of clicks, shares, tweets and likes for the noir R&B birthed out of Parkdale chill spots and Toronto intersections. He was camera shy but also conscious of the image reflected to the public: sex, drugs, rock’n roll, mystique and a heavenly voice were enough to keep everyone intrigued.
That narrative evolved in the last two years as The Weeknd signed a major record deal, took over festival circuits, toured internationally, produced two major studio albums and actually accepted interviews. Yet, I found myself thinking of that first volume going into the opening night of The Fall Madness tour this past week in Toronto’s Air Canada Centre. The Abel Tesfaye I remembered was the awkward kid in a parking lot in London, Ontario performing House of Balloons at a tent party while students watched the show through their Blackberries, afraid that the moment would never come again. I recalled opening slots at OVO Fests where the stage got bigger, the voice was stronger and the introverted persona was fairly intact. I own a t-shirt that says OVOXO on it and wore it like it’s everything I believed in.
In most ways, that Abel is long gone. He now has up-and-comers Travis Scott and Banks opening for him on a stadium tour across Canada and the United States; he has fourteen year olds singing tunes like “Often” and “Tell Your Friends” from his Billboard topping Beauty Behind the Madness like it’s their deep, dark pop world, too; he performs behind a cage with boozy graphics on giant screens and flashing spotlights to set the mood. There’s enough material to easily stuff a two-hour show, and there’s a voice that’s set on delivering it entertainingly.
Amidst pyrotechnically heightened performances of “The Hills” and “Crew Love” and Abel exercising true showmanship during “In The Night” and moonwalking his way through summer powerhouse hit “I Can’t Feel My Face” was a major throwback to the mixtape days. He strangely skipped over his debut Kiss Land in its entirety, but it’s for the better when there’s a steady recount of old favourites “High For This”, “The Birds (Part 1)”, “House of Balloons” and for the not so faint of heart, “D.D.” (a Michael Jackson cover). These songs were never an amateur’s footnotes; these were genre-defining, drug-induced tales of blurred lines and long nights that are hard to visualize as stadium successes; yet, there they were, presented by an Abel with the same golden sonic charm, but significantly more assured, triumphant and boundless.
The Fall Madness tour is so satisfying because it is the culmination of years on the precipice of a brighter spotlight, handled with such finesse that it’s hard to believe that The Weeknd once took any other form than what he is right now: a pop king in the making. Granted, in front of a hometown crowd, the victory always feels a little bit sweeter and all the more surreal, but this tour will undoubtedly prove to the world that The Weeknd is poised for a total take over. He promised so, claiming that every year from now on would be the year of XO. I’m looking forward to that delivery.
