Over a decade into his career, The Weeknd has mastered the art of reinvention. And with Hurry Up Tomorrow, his 2025 BET Awards-nominated album, he delivers something more than a collection of songs—it’s an atmosphere. A farewell to fame as we know it. A slow, shimmering collapse wrapped in synths, spiritual doubt, and immaculate falsetto. If this truly is his final album under “The Weeknd” moniker, he’s leaving the stage exactly the way he came in: on his own, mysterious, genre-defying terms.

From the opening track, “Without a Warning,” it’s clear that Hurry Up Tomorrow isn’t chasing radio. The nearly five-minute intro builds slowly, setting a melancholic tone that echoes through the entire project. The synths are moody. The drums are distant. And The Weeknd's voice—raw and restrained—feels less like seduction and more like surrender.

This is The Weeknd at his most existential. Gone are the themes of toxic love and druggy euphoria. In their place: spiritual disillusionment, burnout, and the unraveling of identity.

“Cry for Me” feels like a funeral hymn, pairing shimmering electronics with lyrics that question whether anyone really knew who he was beneath the persona. Then there’s “São Paulo,” a standout with cinematic strings and Abel’s longing vocals recounting a romance lost in translation—literally and emotionally.

Each track plays like a scene in a surreal movie. “Society” is a minimalist anthem that critiques fame’s hollow rewards, echoing sentiments he's hinted at for years but has never fully confronted until now. “Take Me Back to LA” is nostalgia and escapism rolled into one—a yearning for simpler chaos and a time before the superstar machinery fully consumed him.

But it’s “The Abyss” where the emotional core of the album lies. At just over three minutes, it’s a masterclass in sonic isolation. Abel’s voice echoes in a chamber of synths, begging for peace in the middle of artistic suffocation. It might be the most vulnerable track he’s ever released.

“Timeless,” the album’s crown jewel, sounds like a goodbye letter delivered via moonlight. His falsetto rides above airy pads and pulsing rhythms, contemplating immortality through music. The Weeknd doesn’t sound afraid of being forgotten—he sounds ready to be free from being remembered.

The Weeknd’s journey from House of Balloons to Blinding Lights to Hurry Up Tomorrow is one of the most fascinating arcs in modern music. He’s gone from cult figure to commercial juggernaut to anti-pop prophet—and this album might be his most emotionally mature yet.

He’s not interested in chart-toppers anymore. Hurry Up Tomorrow is more art installation than playlist fodder. Even “Give Me Mercy,” with its infectious hook, subverts expectations by sliding into a ghostly bridge that feels more like a prayer than a plea.

Tracks like “Runaway” and “Red Terror” lean into moody minimalism. The former finds him retreating into himself, while the latter ends the album in a blaze of sirens and whisper-sung final words, as if he’s disappearing mid-note.

The BET Awards Album of the Year nomination for Hurry Up Tomorrow is more than deserved—it’s necessary. In a climate where albums are often an afterthought to singles, The Weeknd delivered a cohesive, emotionally complex project that dares listeners to feel deeply.

It’s risky. It’s challenging. It’s breathtaking. And it’s exactly the kind of work that reaffirms his place not just as a pop star—but as a true artist.

The Weeknd didn’t give us closure with Hurry Up Tomorrow. He gave us questions. A mood. A mirror. And in doing so, reminded us that not every legend exits with a bang—some walk offstage in a cloud of reverb, leaving only the echo behind.

Don’t miss The Weeknd—and more unforgettable moments—at the BET Awards 2025, airing live Monday, June 9 at 8PM ET/PT on BET.