And then there is this album. Apparently The Weeknd (yes, spelled without that ever important third ‘e’) are quite popular in the indie hipster world, embraced by a crowd too cool to be seen enjoying any R&B music that is even remotely mainstream. I am definitely guilty myself of learning about this band/person from Pitchfork Media, as well as checking it out based on the artwork and album title of House of Balloons (judging a book by it’s cover – leave me alone), but all this distraction does the music itself a disservice as it’s a very impressive record from this young Torontonian. Unfortunately it’s only available as a download (a free one on the band’s website, as a matter of fact), cause for me it has a sound that would match very well with vinyl. So anyway, on it’s surface it’s an R&B record, but a very dark one at that. Not dark in a depressing, droning, tuneless way, as it’s incredibly catchy throughout, but it’s no coincidence they sampled Siouxsie & The Banshees on one track – another band fully versed on putting pop music through what some would call a “goth” lens. There are even elements of that oddly named “witch house” style that was attracting so much attention the past year or so. This all drives home my view on this album, that it effortlessly mixes so many completely contrasting genres together and somehow makes it work – beautifully, in fact. You have a singer with this wonderful voice that has a bit of a Michael Jackson lilt to it, singing very bluntly about sex through most of the album, over 80’s goth pop samples, and yet it’s still very much a relatively straight-forward R&B album. An R&B album for those who want their musical artists to show a sense of adventure instead of kowtowing to major label pressures of sales over substance. A nocturnal and darkly gorgeous record. It’s the sound of a party that has lasted well into the morning hours – a midtown loft half empty but full of regret – full of slow building grooves heard by the remaining few – surrounded by beer cups and red brick walls. It’s that sound of steam coming from the subway grates as you walk home, the high of the evening fading away, the over population seemingly disappeared – the city is yours and yours alone. It’s a woozy, blurry, shadow-filled night, and House of Balloons is the transition into your morning after. Oh, HOW dramatic!