The Weeknd’s Falsetto Falls Flat on ‘My Dear Melancholy,’

“My Dear Melancholy,” the latest release by Abel Tesfaye (better known as The Weeknd) opens with promise. “We found each other, I helped you out of a broken place,” the musician croons on first track “Call Out My Name,” the combination of low register-vocals, nostalgic lyrics, and soft, synthesized piano suggesting that what is to come from the EP may be a reconciliation between the synth-pop power of the artist’s recent album “Starboy” and the R&B style of his earlier work. As the verse fades into a pulsating and repetitive chorus, it is clear that the track—and the ensuing album—is not a reconciliation of the artist’s styles but rather an attempt to go back to his debut mixtapes. This leaves Tesfaye trapped in an awkward place between the artist he was and the artist he has become.

“Call Out My Name” will be popular, as it should be. It’s easy to get the hook and the baseline stuck in your head, but there’s nothing in it that The Weeknd hasn’t already done. The track sounds like a perfect fit for the “Fifty Shades of Grey” soundtrack, to which the artist contributed his earlier single, “Earned It.” The only surprise comes from the lyrics, and the premise that they create. The lyrics are longing: “Girl, why can’t you wait ‘til I fall out of love?” Tesfaye asks, a markedly different tone from a musician who has created a diverse and appealing body of music under the persona of someone who does not feel very much emotion. The rest of the EP, however, drops off from this decent, yet unexciting opening, never quite finding its lyrical footing.

The fundamental problem with “My Dear Melancholy,” is that it is a breakup album that fails to cohesively reflect on a breakup. While the opening track suggests longing and nostalgia, what follows lyrically is immature and sometimes off-putting. The lyrics “I hope you know this dick is still an option / ‘Cause I’ll beat it up” and “You were equestrian so ride it like a champion,” (both fairly obvious references to Tesfaye’s high-profile breakup with model Bella Hadid) give the song “Wasted Times” a more self-aggrandizing feel. The lyrics alternate between nostalgia, maybe even remorse, and a kind of bitter desire, but not in a way that feels consistent. “I Was Never There” is the highlight of the album, finding an appropriate middle ground between these emotions, but any cohesion is ruined by the next track “Hurt You” where the repeated lyric “I don’t wanna hurt you” feels disingenuous when followed by “‘Cause if it’s love you want again, don’t waste your time / But if you call me up, I’m fuckin’ you on sight.”

The Weeknd’s uncouth lyrical discussion of his breakups could be forgiven if there were greater merit to its musicality, but the most sonically intriguing tracks are characterized as such because of guest artist Gesaffelstein. The French electronic musician is featured on tracks “I Was Never There” and “Hurt You,” both of which have more high-energy beats and tempo that fit Tesfaye’s falsetto well. Any attempt to return to the R&B of his album “Beauty Behind the Madness” is lost in The Weeknd’s failure to focus on a cohesive musical or lyrical theme. It’s as though he half transitioned his sound, and attempted more genuine lyrics, only for the two to turn what sounds at first to be an introspective breakup album into a stylistic miscalculation.

Objectively, the EP is not bad. There are a few catchy tracks, but it pales in comparison to Tesfaye’s previous work. “My Dear Melancholy,” is what we expect from an up-and-coming artist still figuring out his style, not a seasoned musical veteran whose body of existing work calls for something much, much better.

—Staff Writer Allison J. Scharmann can be reached at allison.scharmann@thecrimson.com.