@theweekndxo Trilogy complete. — Drake

House of Balloons

Answer: Stagnation.

Question: What has R&B brought to the world in the past ten years?

The contemporary world of rhythm and blues is cryogenic. The related charts of the years 2000 to 2010 are dominated by the same names — Rihanna, Usher, Mariah Carey — producing broadly similar music year after year. The same genre in which one can classify innovators like Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder became mundane.

Then 2010 arrived and, despite the usual chart-toppers, a crack appeared. Demo tracks by an unheard-of began making the rounds on blogs, with the artist field displaying “The Weeknd”. The early-listeners were impressed with what they heard, noting threads of electronica and contemporary bass-heavy beats, and emphasising Drake’s involvement.

On March 21, the first nine-track mixtape by The Weeknd was released to universal acclaim. Hipster Mecca-blog Pitchfork picked it as the best new music:

There was the Drake cosign, the album art that looked like Spiritualized crossed with Tumblr art-porn, the missing vowel, the stylish samples, and the project’s creators hiding in the shadows.

Rolling Stone was even more effusive, and managed to out Abel Tesfaye as the man behind the music:

It traces a woozy, debauched journey over nine slow jams that join the current conversation in hallucinatory r&b and indie rock: James Blake, Frank Ocean, jj, Salem, and Beach House.

I, too, drew some of these parallels. But what I was interested in most were not the melodies, but rather Tesfaye’s vocals. He opens the record subtly, “you don’t know what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for.” Yes, indeed. The vocals on High for This are Sade-esque in their intonation, with a somewhat longing character.

The record continues with some decidedly downtempo jams (What You Need, Coming Down) paired neatly with songs that are more danceable, though not much quicker (Glass Table Girls, Loft Music). Significantly, the songs display an impressive vocal control paired with music that’s much better suited to 2011 than the otherwise-mundane contemporary R&B offerings. In his review, Daniel Koren sums up the mood of the record:

[W]ith the Weeknd’s debut mixtape, House of Balloons, they bring to the table the most interesting, depressing, and drug-infested R&B record in years.

It’s a party for one and sobering for many. In a nod to its excellence, House of Balloons was nominated for the 2011 Polaris Prize, but lost to Suburbs.

Thursday

How does one follow such an acclaimed record? As best you can, I suppose, and quickly. Released just a few months later in mid-August, Thursday opens with a more melancholic hook than its predecessor. Enter quiet, warped speech, as if spoken by a child through a spinning fan, then the infectious falsetto reminiscent of, dare I say it, Michael Jackson’s finest.

The record continues with the almost scathing Life of the Party, a stab at an ex-girlfriend, perhaps? There’s an element of jealousy, but it’s eclipsed by how biting it is, especially when paired with the serpentine electric guitar riff. Later in the nine-song album, The Zone connotes influences as disparate as Moby (with its vintage drum machine beat), Portishead and Django Reinhardt’s glassy guitar work. Drake contributes a restrained rap verse overtop the concluding decaying piano riff.

Track eight, Gone, effectively fuses the worlds of minimal electronica with R&B. Tesfaye’s vocals are layered in harmony in a sound Imogen Heap made famous, but which is executed here with ever-increasing soul. At eight minutes, it’s the longest song on the album and exists in two movements. The first half is backed by a simple, tinkling synth riff and finger snaps, while the second half is accompanied by a hard-hitting, sparse beat.

Thursday closes on a decidedly more upbeat note, with a track appropriately entitled Heaven Or Las Vegas. Over a palette of squealing guitars, sawtooth synth, choir, piano, and sprinklings of Dntel-esque noises, Tesfaye delivers his most explorative R&B entry yet. He’s found what he desired:

I never prayed a moment in my life / Girl, I’m rewarded with you

I found Thursday to be weaker than House of Balloons, but only by a hair. It lacks the cohesion of its predecessor in a way that hurts its flow. That’s not to say that it’s a poor effort at all; if anything, Thursday is even more innovative than Balloons.

Echoes of Silence

i hope they don’t hang me for my decisions on #echoesofsilence — The Weeknd

Last night, the trilogy was completed with the much-anticipated release of Echoes of Silence. Quoted above, Tesfaye alludes to some of the more controversial choices on the record, chief of which is the opening track D.D. Some artists’ songs are acceptable to cover, but that’s almost never the case with Michael Jackson. Tesfaye’s decision to cover Dirty Diana is bold, but executed oh so perfectly. While a fairly straightforward cover, it’s more sensitive than Jackson’s original. The vocals are exquisite.

The rest of the record is spacier than the preceding Thursday, or even House of Balloons. It’s not empty, but there’s reverb and echo dripping from every instrument. For all I know, it may have been recorded in a long-vacant church or concert hall. The fifth track, Initiation, is the biggest exception, which infuses elements of IDM and a flavour of the night. Acoustically, it’s the driest track on the record, but it certainly isn’t boring. The vocals are warped and morphed into a gelatinous, ever-evolving sound, as if played from a record overtop a blast furnace.

The trilogy concludes on the title track, a sensitive, melancholic tribute to loves that are, were, and could be. The piano is treated delicately and is muted to pair with the warmth of Tesfaye’s vocals. It’s a phenomenal closing song, worthy of the records that launched The Weeknd from unheard to indie superstar.

To think that these records were released for free with no way to pay for them leaves me cold. I desperately want to give him my money. I hope I can, soon. The Weeknd deserves it.

— December 22, 2011

I am, of course, a massive fan of Twelve South (12S). The small company is responsible for several of the most innovative, most well-designed and best-fitting accessories for the Mac, iPad and (now) iPhone. As a diehard, I own a Compass and a BookArc, both of which keep my desk clean and amp up its style. And so Andrew Green — founder of 12S — announced the BookBook for iPhone last month on Twitter and I fell in love.

It’s odd, though, that I was considering purchasing one. This is the third variation of 12S’ BookBook line of cases, of which the previous two I did not enjoy. The BookBook for the MacBook (Pro) was the first to launch, and it’s a rather bulky product. It’s stylish, sure, and clever, but it lacks a certain amount of elegance. It’s overdone. It’s a similar story for the iPad version. There are several book-style cases for the iPad on the market, and Twelve South’s isn’t as well executed as Nedrelow’s or the rightly eminent DODOCase.

The iPhone version is a different story. Unlike the MacBook and iPad versions, it isn’t bulky for style concessions, but because it adds functionality. The inside flap hides slots for cards, a clear pocket for identification, and a pocket for cash. As the promo video demonstrates, one simply grabs their keys and their BookBook, and is set for the day. It’s simply marvellous.

The iPhone is held on the right-hand side of the case, with cutouts for the earpiece, ring/silent switch and home button. Notably absent is a cutout for the camera and flash. This is by design. To compensate, Twelve South has added a small red pull-tab to allow the phone to be slid up with your thumb. It’s a smart way to overcome a design obstacle. The alternative would be to have a cutout in the rear and, while more convenient, would destroy the suspension of disbelief. The illusion of it being a book is more powerful without the hole.

By now, a typical review would descend into complaints, and I’m afraid there’s no exception this time (though my complaints are minor). With three cards in the wallet portion, with another card and a folded up bill in the pocket, the case does bulge quite noticeably. I suspect this is partially due to the leather not being “worn in”, but it’s slightly disconcerting. When folded shut, the leather tends to leave a significant smudge across the left-hand side of the screen. Again, this is probably due to it being new, but as someone who attempts to keep their screen polished, this is unwelcome.

The big worry, though, is the idea of keeping your credit card(s), identification and expensive smartphone in the same place. It certainly makes it easier for a thief to procure your valuables (and identity, potentially). If you don’t feel comfortable taking that risk, the BookBook is definitively not for you.

An aside: I purchased my BookBook at Toronto’s Eaton Centre, while on vacation. It was while waiting for my delayed flight that I realised Twelve South created the perfect product for the domestic traveller. One can display their boarding pass on the iPhone while presenting their ID. It’s a genius product.

To sum up, the BookBook for iPhone is a magnificent achievement. The concept of combining a wallet and phone case isn’t a new one, but Twelve South’s execution of that idea is nearly perfect.

— August 12, 2011