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The Weeknd is seen here performing at the RBC Royal Bank Bluesfest in Ottawa on Sunday, July 15, 2012. (PATRICK DOYLE/THE CANADIAN PRESS)
The Weeknd is seen here performing at the RBC Royal Bank Bluesfest in Ottawa on Sunday, July 15, 2012. (PATRICK DOYLE/THE CANADIAN PRESS)

MUSIC

How The Weeknd became R&B’s next big thing Add to ...

Nobody’s going to buy the cow when they can get the milk for free. The old adage no doubt occurred to more than a few people in the music business when it was announced in September that Universal Music Canada and Republic Records in the U.S. had signed the Canadian R&B act The Weeknd and were going to re-release three mix-tapes that had previously been available as free downloads on the Web.

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Making the deal seem even more improbable was the fact that Abel Tesfaye – the 22-year old Scarborough native who sings, writes and produces as The Weeknd – is notoriously press-shy, and had done little touring or concert-playing. In an industry that runs on hype, The Weeknd’s ultra-low profile is hardly an obvious fit.

And yet Trilogy, which was released Tuesday, is shaping up as a sizable hit. “It looks like it’s going to be 100,000 copies sold in the first week in the U.S.,” says Randy Lennox, president and CEO of Universal Music Canada. “It’s going to easily be a Top 5 record in the first week.” (Canadian sales figures will be released early next week.)

Online sales, which theoretically would be most likely to have been blunted by free downloads, are also strong, with Trilogy trailing only One Direction’s Take Me Home on iTunes’ album chart, placing it well ahead of new albums by pop diva/TV star Christina Aguilera, reunited alt-rockers Soundgarden and punk perennials Green Day.

Tellingly, Trilogy is the only R&B album in the iTunes Top 10. But then, The Weeknd isn’t a typical R&B artist. His sound is hardly party music; it’s more like the after-party, with his sweet, plaintive tenor floating like cigarette smoke over darkly atmospheric synths and a slow, almost narcotic groove.

Sexy and dangerous, it’s an approach that has excited listeners and incited discussion online since March of last year, when fellow Torontonian Drake posted a link to a Weeknd track called Wicked Game. A few weeks later, The Weeknd’s own website offered a nine-song mixtape called House of Balloons as a free download. The music press reacted with a chorus of hallelujahs. Meanwhile, thanks to Drake tweets, The Weeknd’s own Twitter account picked up an army of followers.

Five months later, a second free mixtape went up online. This one, Thursday, featured a guest vocal by Drake, and garnered equally approving reviews. Echoes of Silence, which followed in December, completed the trilogy. Add in singing and writing contributions to Drake’s Take Care and remix work for Lady Gaga, and by the new year The Weeknd had become such a hot commodity that he was booked for the 2012 Coachella Festival despite having given only a handful of live performances.

What makes him different? Like a lot of producers in R&B, he often builds songs around samples from other recordings. But instead of drawing from the usual sources – vintage soul, rare-groove jazz, classic rap singles – The Weeknd’s taste runs more toward alt-rock and punk, with House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls incorporating an old single by punk pioneers Siouxsie and the Banshees, while The Knowing draws from the dreamy alt-psychedelia of Cocteau Twins. Not surprisingly, his fondness for alt-rock has earned him the approval of similarly alt-rock-loving music critics.

But Jon Caramanica, the New York Times pop critic who reviewed a Weeknd performance in Guelph last year, says his appeal is simple. “If you listen to Prince and you know who DJ Screw is, The Weeknd makes a lot of sense.”

You don’t have to look any further than Michael Jackson to understand the Weeknd’s No. 1 influence, Lennox says. Indeed, it’s easy to hear echoes of the late superstar in Tesfaye’s delivery – particularly on D.D., his cover of Jackson’s Dirty Diana. There’s a similarly tremulous quality to Tesfaye’s singing, but where Jackson uses breathiness and quick vibrato to convey a sense of showy desperation, The Weeknd’s pleading tone registers as anxiety, as if he knows how the story ends and can do nothing to stop it.

But the differences are just as important. Jackson’s sound, even at its most pop, always had a strong basis in the blues, an influence that’s almost totally absent from The Weeknd’s sound. Instead, the melisma he uses to ornament the vocal line in songs like Wicked Games has more in common with the Arabic-influenced sound of Senegalese superstar Youssou N’Dour.

Perhaps the most significant divergence in the Weeknd’s notion of R&B can be found in his lyrics. Traditionally, the men who sing rhythm and blues have assumed tough-guy personas. They might be ultra-masculine seducers, like Teddy Pendergrass and Isaac Hayes; they might be suave romantics, strong enough to sing about feeling vulnerable, as Sam Cooke and Marvin Gaye did.

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