Dawn FM sees The Weeknd embracing the loneliness needed for a path of healing and betterment. He does this after having begged for a love interest to come back for the duration of his last record. Jim Carrey introduces us (and him) to this experience, characterised in the likeness of a radio station. The song is described as “commercial” music, which contrasts nicely and diametrically with how emotionally deep The Weeknd’s disposition is, lyrically. The beautiful chord progressions this track employs are greatly complimented by the undeniably admirable and dreamy ambiance. Moreover, the swells and decorations of immersive synths feel both futuristic and like an evocative callback to the 80s.

Low 8.

Gasoline is a heartbreaking re-introduction of The Weeknd’s vices, and it reinstates the topic of his toxic relationships through a bleak and nihilistic lyrical cut; showcasing how downcast he’s become. The decision to pitch down the already emotive vocal performance is certainly interesting. What’s more, this stylistic decision has a unique chemistry with the more percussive synth sound design the song explores. Having said this, the composition in itself is a tad one-dimensional, though—everything considered—this track is definitely an enjoyable revisitation of the 80s dance-pop aesthetic.

Mid-High 7.

How Do I Make You Love Me? is a pleading track where The Weeknd tries to convince a lover to stay eternally. He says he’ll make them “light (…) up again, like embers of a fire”, along with the other promises he desperately makes—ones that the listener already knows he likely won’t be able to keep. This time, the verses take a somewhat more laid-back and low-profile approach, leaving room for the maximalist hook to shine. The chorus is, in turn, as strong and moving as one might expect, with copious futuristic synths that reach an almost sci-fi disposition amidst the lovably danceable mood created by the other electronic elements.

Low 8.

Take My Breath is a siren call for the ‘old’ The Weeknd. He meets someone who embodies risk and temptation, similar to the ones that made him wish for escape in the last record. His reluctance and seeming refusal act as an emotive representation of his newfound will. This track’s instrumental is another wholly applaudable revival of 80s dance and synth pop. This time around, it’s presented in an intoxicating, entrancingly uplifting, and solidly clear-cut cut. Namely, the production is fascinating and enveloping; The Weeknd’s vocal performance is as velvety as it is gripping; and the compositions are melodic, catchy, and long-lastingly memorable.

High 8.

Sacrifice: Here, The Weeknd is completely split in half between his desire to live “more of the night” and his love for somebody who’s incompatible with this life. Regardless of his attempts at commitment, he ultimately *sacrifices* the relationship for the lifestyle that calls to him. Instrumentally, this is, once again, a consistent and focused song of revival, though it comes across as somewhat lacking. The arrangements feel admittedly inspired, albeit more reserved this time around, leaning towards a safer approach. That being said, the energetic bass riff, with its plump and plucky tone, as well as the characteristically bright keys accompaniment certainly bring dynamism to the cut.

Mid 7.

A Tale by Quincy is an absolutely heartbreaking and evocative moment of retrospective spoken word by Quincy Jones. He details how during his upbringing, his mother’s diagnosis and subsequent admittance to a mental hospital affected all his future interpersonal relationships. “Looking back is a bitch, isn’t it?” is a fantastically genuine and bittersweet line, as it suggests a revisitation of a painful past, but also the elucidation of patterns previously subconscious.

Nice interlude.

Out of Time implies an admirable lyrical progression. The Weeknd says he’s been working on himself and uncovering his “trauma”, acting as a wonderful parallel to the disposition Quincy Jones had in the last interlude. All things considered, this cut is a powerful expression of frustration in being *out of time*, and no longer being able to see this emotional betterment make a dead relationship change for the better. Jim Carrey’s spoken radio broadcast announcement at the end—alluding to the remaining 30 minutes on the record being the last 30 minutes the listener has left to live—is also loveable. Audibly, the smooth transition, along with the alluringly warm sonic direction, makes for a welcoming and immersive feel—with great use of the Tomoko Aran sample. Though this is true for the verses, it’s especially commendable in the hook due to the enveloping backing vocal harmony, strengthening the lovably amicable and submerging quality of the cut.

High 7.

Here We Go… Again is a lyrically weaker track where The Weeknd goes back to a bragging that’s somewhat obnoxious, especially the bits about his new relationship. The later Tyler verse, where he goes on about not marrying someone without a prenup is a tad bland and uninspired. From a compositional standpoint, the track is disappointing as well. Despite the general sonic makeup staying consistent, this track just ends up being slightly forgettable. That is to say, the vocal performance and spacey synths are admittedly up to par, but the lack of direction leaves them feeling uninspired.

Low 6.

Best Friends interestingly details the fine line between being *best friends* with benefits, and the threatening prospect of catching feelings—which The Weeknd believes would damage the relationship. It feels like he is grasping at straws to hold on to affection, but doing so in a way that both parties end up distanced out of fear. From a sonic standpoint, the very frontal bassline is especially worthy of note, since the rest of the performances take a step back this time around. This is by no means a hindrance, as the composition itself is sufficiently catchy. Moreover, the tone or ‘spice’ being more laid-back and contained allows for the vocal performances and electronic elements to shine in a different, albeit equally moving way.

Mid 8.

Is There Someone Else? is a conflicted track where, in a case of role switch, he is now the one who is likely being cheated on. He recognises that this was something he would’ve previously done, and attempts to mend by saying how he’s since changed for the better. From the very beginning, the track boasts a lovable marriage between the hard-hitting low end and the smooth pitched-up vocals. However, despite being another case of consistent and focused production, it comes across as somewhat uneventful once this element is no longer present.

High 7.

Starry Eyes is an interesting and evocative metaphor, as it implies a pain and heartbreak that have led to a loss of innocence and optimism. But this is emotively explored in a way that subverts the melancholy. The idea of meeting someone who could previously only reside in your dreams doubles as a representation of how it is through this painstaking maturation that new doors can be opened. What’s more, the transition into this track is seamless and satisfying. This calmer and introspective lyricism is done justice through the expansive and meditative direction the cut takes. The immersion achieved through the transition is creatively switched midway, while commendably maintaining the mood. Arguably, the only thing to be said is that it can flirt with the monotonous, though just slightly.

Mid-High 7.

Every Angel Is Terrifying is a greatly fitting radio ad, coherent with the record’s concept. Here, the urging to die continues, as if the anxiety of imminent death plagues him (and us) inescapably. The elements resembling a broadcast that used here, along with the electronics employed, make for a nice balance between ephemeral, elusive, and commercial. Moreover, it’s a comedic yet eerie interlude in the form of an announcement, though—since it’s, in essence, akin to a skit—it’s not the most emotive, admittedly.

Mid 7.

Don’t Break My Heart: Here, The Weeknd seems to have grown more cautious in the relationships he decides to begin. His vulnerable side shows here, as he candidly admits to not being able to take another heartbreak. However, he is left pondering whether to take the risk in the face of an overwhelming newfound love. It’s actually a pretty touching lyrical point in the record, all the more exalted in the face of a wholly intoxicating point in the tracklist. The unequivocal groove, the ephemeral backdrop of reverb and synths, along the extra veil of melancholy make for one more synth-pop banger.

Low-Mid 8.

I Heard You’re Married is a genuine detailing of the sadness felt when finding out you’re someone else’s affair. The Weeknd speaks from a place of frustration and self-respect, unwilling to stay in that position. Afterwards, Lil Wayne joins with a verse that is not all that fitting—but it ends up being funny and charismatic enough to be pulled off. This cut’s focal point is, one again, the hook. Here, The Weeknd’s intimate vocals beautifully embellish the sweet melodies of the arrangement. The beat itself is also worth noting due to the marriage (wink wink) between the straight and dry beat, which contrasts with the more out-there synth pads.

Low 8.

Less Than Zero uses various references to speak about his “darkest truth of all”. In general, these lyrics are an allegory for his return to a previous self, not being able to salvage a relationship despite the *dawn* of change The Weeknd has undertaken. However, with evidence like the “it’s 5 AM” line in “Gasoline”, the project being only the second instalment of a confirmed trilogy, and the death which the closing track represents, we have reason to believe this record as a whole represents a relapse to rock bottom before the actual break of dawn. The instrumental is an enjoyable change of pace in a way; namely, the instrumentation featuring an acoustic guitar brings a bright and somewhat optimistic mood to the song. The combination of this with the somewhat more downcast composition brings a bittersweet tone. Additionally, the vocal arrangement and faster paced approach of this track makes it a wholly memorable one.

Low-Mid 8.

Phantom Regret by Jim: Eventually, the moment arrives where we as listeners reach the end of our allegoric lives throughout the record. Jim Carrey stars in the outro and, very poetically, urges the listener to look back on their life, to “let go of regret”, and to accept that life is inherently chaos while deciding to live in the moment regardless. This teaching to live in a way to avoid regret is beautifully encapsulated in the line “You gotta be Heaven to see Heaven”. The production on this track creates an apt environment for Jim Carrey’s emotionally driven, profound, and intimately delivered spoken word. It’s quite a fitting and well-crafted closing track, with spacey synth work hypnotically meeting with the reverb-heavy vocals.

Low 6.