![]() ![]() Just from vocal inflection alone, “Can’t Feel My Face” is a send-up of Jackson. We only like “Can’t Feel My Face” because The Weeknd is doing his best to bring out a druggy, zombified Michael Jackson back to life. That druggy kid from Toronto became accessible to everybody the moment he made “Earned It (Fifty Shades of Grey),” and it hasn’t stopped since. I fear that after reading his glowing New York Times profile that his new album, Beauty Behind the Madness, will make me fall into a vat of Max Martin pop songs co-opted by Taylor Swift. I would rather hang with Ronda Rousey for 30 seconds inside an Octagon then time-warp to meet ‘80s Mike Tyson for a fight than try to sit through Kiss Land. The Weeknd has one, and I mean one, great album: 2011’s House of Balloons. And “Can’t Feel My Face,” a song people have declared to be the song of the summer, is his biggest crime. The Weeknd is your worst pop music nightmare and his attempts at being millennial weird Michael Jackson is even worse. I mean, he kind of does but he doesn’t look like the type to stare into nothing while sex is happening. We were stuck with a drug-obsessed version of Future, if only Future truly cared about nothing but voyeuristic sex and the occasional Daria marathon. Then Frank Ocean decided he didn’t want to come outside anymore, or release music and we were stuck with The Weeknd. That’s right, a far too easy to point out nod to one of the greatest entertainers ever – is the hottest song in the country.įriends and other music heads attempted to tell me that The Weeknd vs. 3 and “Can’t Feel My Face,” the mock Off the Wall-era Michael Jackson record Chris Brown wishes he could have made, is currently king of the land. Of his three major singles this year, “The Hills” peaked at No. He’s commanded the Billboard Hot 100 like no other solo artist save maybe Fetty Wap, and has changed out singles at the top like new clothes. The Weeknd is arguably the hottest male R&B singer of 2015. But that was Jidenna, and there’s far more music out there that your ears need saving from.īut nobody has been saved from The Weekend in 2015. Sorry, millennial dating culture, “fuckboy” does not and will never mean “a guy who likes sleeping around." A “fuckboy” will forever be associated with someone who does trifling, vile, unnecessary shit. Then, Salon and God knows whatever middle-class band of ironists decided to go full dissertation on the meaning of “fuckboy” without once consulting someone who knew the actual meaning of the word. My hopes for Jidenna being better than "Classic Man" will have to wait another day. In fact, it just included “Classic Man” and the Kendrick Lamar-featured remix. ![]() I had hoped that The Eephus EP released on Monáe’s Wondaland imprint, would have at least told me Jidenna is capable of far greater things than “Classic Man." Sadly, it did not. Still, that didn’t stop people from thinking I was attacking Jidenna personally. When he and Janelle Monáe appeared on New York’s Hot 97 to address Iggy Azalea's claim that they sampled her song, not only did they use the "Marvin Gaye rule" in their defense, they bluntly said, “she steals from us, we steal right back.” Let’s recap the things in the world that - at present time and space - suck, OK?Ī few weeks ago, I walked through the depths of curiosity about Jidenna’s “Classic Man." I called it something along the lines of pandering and said that its creator, although ripe with decent intentions, had created something like a pop music Trojan Horse. ![]()
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