By: Angelika Santaniello
Illustration by: Francesca Corno
Content warning: sexual exploitation, emotional manipulation, violence, and objectification in music. Reader discretion is advised.
What draws fans to The Weeknd’s music like moths to a flame? Listeners of The Weeknd, whose real name is Abel Tesfaye, are not shy about the sexual nature of his music but are instead mesmerised by the R&B beats and Tesfaye’s voice in falsetto. However, this is arguably a means of masking the embedded toxicity of his music’s subject matter, making listeners desensitised to its problematic nature. What The Weeknd’s music reveals is society’s corrupted approach to music.
When thinking about The Weeknd’s lyrics, we begin with the overt objectification of women alongside explicit references to drug use and sex. “Hurt You”, a collaboration with Gesaffelstein, is characterised by a series of vulgar expressions and emotional rejection, evident in the line: “Girl I’ll come and put myself between your legs / Not between your heart.” This points to a dangerous male-dominated perception of women that fosters sexual exploitation. “Kiss Land” is not dissimilar in its explicit derogation of the female subject of the song, who is directly addressed: “If [she plays her] cards right, I might / […] bring [her] whole crew on tour.” With a clear reference to sex as a price for material goods (“[She] gotta pay with [her] body”), the male speaker places himself on a higher social status than women, reducing them to objects of sexual gratification.
The Weeknd is a crucial case study because his music faces minimal criticism. Alongside his treatment of women in his songs, an emerging trope is the character of an emotionally manipulative male partner. One of his most famous songs “Save Your Tears” presents a dichotomy between ego and desire, encapsulating the manipulation and toxicity of a relationship. The antithetical nature of the lyrics, “Girl take me back ‘cause I want to stay […] You deserve someone better” portrays the brutal first-person perspective of manipulation strategies. Yet, there is no indication of Tesfaye’s condemnation of this. It is embraced by the songwriter as the series of sharp hurtful remarks are accompanied by a memorable dance melody. The song is not simply about heartbreak, but about attempting to control a former partner’s emotions for personal satisfaction. It is heavily romanticised, revealing society’s regressive approach to music, as The Weeknd’s success becomes contingent on a societal disconnection from toxicity and emotional manipulation.
Furthermore, masked in The Weeknd’s melodies is a cruel theme. “House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls” not only continues the sexual exploitation of women but also taps into themes of voyeurism and explicit threats: “I’m a nice dude with some nice dreams / And we could turn this into a nightmare: Elm Street.” These successive lyrics, paired with the imagery in the song, intertwine violence with sex while also crudely alluding to old horror.
The conflation of sex and violence is something his listeners are concerningly attuned to. The artist’s scandal following the release of the television drama, The Idol, only exacerbates the problematic nature of his music. After the show was criticised for glamourising sexual violence, The Weeknd has been dismissive of the media’s disapproval. He appears apathetic to the profoundly worrying portrayal of the female and male protagonists’ dynamic, which is defined by an abusive power imbalance. Despite this, his collaborative track for The Idol – “One of The Girls” – remains successful, displaying themes of violence and submission, and corroborates the controversies of the show. Clearly, when it comes to Tesfaye’s music, there is less scrutiny from listeners. He faces less accountability for his inherently threatening lyrical content.
His discography irrefutably crosses a boundary in music. Our awareness of his toying with the male ego and violence is blurred by a superficial music approach determined by sound; his lyrics represent a curtailing of our sensitivity to music. This uncovers a pattern: listeners increasingly overlook what is problematic – even absurd at times – and artists lose consciousness of their music’s repercussions. Solely focusing on music through the artist’s sounds is at odds with the greater concern for social matters in contemporary times. We are not unfamiliar with contentious music, but here we see an artist bluntly probing what continues to be experienced by many today: misogyny, manipulation, violence, and abuse. The development of an almost hypnotised following is distressing, highlighting a deeply unsettling and growing culture of permissive attitudes towards reprehensible behaviour.
Fundamentally, listeners’ responses to The Weeknd’s songs perhaps reflect society’s morally ambiguous approach to music. Under a more nuanced view, The Weeknd’s continued success is a symptom of society’s disengagement with, and detachment from, sensitive topics. This leads us to wonder: Will music become the driver for social change or its enemy?
