Toronto's mysterious R&B wunderkind boasts a golden voice, but he's far from mastered the art of stagecraft
In these days of social media totalitarianism, it’s nearly unfathomable to be both popular and anonymous and yet, somehow, 21-year-old Abel Tesfaye’s a.k.a. The Weeknd has managed to do both. For nearly a half-year — since his debut album, House of Balloons, dropped as a free download — the Toronto based R&B-mo (R&B + emo, get it?) phenom has baffled, impressed and frustrated listeners and press alike with his artistic ability, while earning their respect via his ethereal public persona. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Tesfaye’s media hoodwink was not so much that he did it, but rather he that he did it while never purporting to do it. There were no masks, no aliases, no lies, Tesfaye just refused to be interviewed and, driven into frenzy by both his mentor, Drake, and his talent, the media took it from there.
While fans identified with the music’s lascivious melodrama and bedroom beats, critics were quick to lay praise on the label-less wunderkind, recently voting House of Balloons onto the Polaris Music Prize shortlist. All the while, Tesfaye managed to somehow avoid the iPod flash, preferring to communicate in oblique tweets rather than tabloid fodder. That is until yesterday, when the man himself — backed by a three-piece band — finally arrived onstage and instantly rewrote Toronto R&B history.
In line with his persona, the circumstances surrounding The Weeknd’s first public performance were shrouded in both mystery and playfulness. Announced via a Facebook event invite that asserted: “NO GUESTLIST. NO CAMERAS. NO MEDIA,” fans and industry insiders alike were instructed to stand in line and get a ticket. Yet, when those same fans entered the Mod Club last night, it became clear that Tesfaye — or at the very least his management — was not quite as egalitarian as his ethos would suggest. By enforcing their policy, they simply eliminated the competition. Weeknd-sanctioned pro cameras were in abundance, yet the media was forced to, shock, pay for their tickets and hustle for photos (we got ours courtesy of local gimmick photo blog You Get What You Gif). And the guestlist was 200 deep (as evidenced by the open bar VIP balcony), all of which served to provide an atmosphere that lay somewhere between Hollywood invite-only (Drake, Diddy!) and Richmond street on a Friday night (the series of pre-show flashing in Drake’s direction by the capacity crowd).
That said, all the pre-show fodder seemed to warm up the crowd, who burst into ecstatic overload when, shortly after 10pm, the stage curtains were drawn and there stood Tesfaye in a camouflage jacket. Instantly, hundreds of cameras took away his mystique. In its place stood a nervous Michael Ealy lookalike, stoically calm, yet visibly apprehensive. Until he opened his mouth.
In sharp contrast to the boy standing onstage, Tesfaye’s voice was strong, melodic and full. Effortlessly usurping his recorded output, his live tonal mastery instantly cemented him as one of the most impressive and powerful vocalists in R&B today. Coupled with the forceful backing band that brought to life the climactic shifts that drive House of Balloons, The Weeknd’s live show was as commanding sonically as it was hesitant visually.
Both R&B and hip-hop — and, for that matter, rock — demand either an intense degree of cocksureness or an artistically credible demureness from their frontmen, and though the enthusiastic crowd egged him on by echoing every word he sang, Tesfaye came off, at times, amateurish. It’s clear he’s still learning the art of stagecraft — a skill he’ll need if he’s to catch up to his mentor on the world stage.
That being said, it’s important to remember, in this age of instant gratification and ready-made pop stars, that sometimes an artist needs time to grow. It was not, by any means, a perfect show, but an impressive debut regardless. Just as we fawned over the idea of The Weeknd, if yesterday’s performance is any indication, so too shall we fawn over Tesfaye, the image and the public icon. Whether he wants us to or not.
