The Weeknd’s New Album ‘Dawn FM’ Takes Listeners On A Spiritual Journey

(REVIEW) Canadian singer Abel Tesfaye, known as the Weeknd, dropped his newest album, “Dawn FM,” in January and it’s packed with spiritual themes, including from Christianity.

The cover art for “Dawn FM.”

The Weeknd said he wrote the lyrics for the album, which has a much darker and melancholy edge than his previous work, while in a state of depression he experienced during the initial COVID-19 lockdown. But the album isn’t just dark– the songs convey the feeling of a person finding religion or spirituality for the first time — a journey from the darkness into the light.

This light, paired with the spiritual theme, seems meant to calm listeners from anxiety about death and help them feel transcendent, even if that feeling of transcendence isn’t based in reality. Salvation in this album isn’t looking up but looking within, finding one’s authentic self in a doomed, overstimulated and shallow world.

The singer ponders his life, death and what comes after death. The music is atypical to the pop hits and slow club music the Weeknd is known for.

“Make me believe in make-beliefs ‘cause after this, is it dark?” the Weeknd wonders in the album’s prologue. 

After this brief intro, the fictional radio station “Dawn FM” comes on, with a voice-over by Jim Carrey, who plays the DJ. Carrey narrates a monologue comparable to the opening of the Twilight Zone. 

“You’ve been in the dark for way too long,” he says. “It’s time to walk into the light and accept your fate with open arms.”

Listeners move through a portal — and there is no going back. 

The Weeknd comes back to chorus a brief jingle, “103.5 Dawn FM,” and proceeds to the next track, “Gasoline.” 

“It’s 5 a.m. I’m nihilist, I know there’s nothing after this. … I know you won’t let me OD. And if I finally die in peace, just wrap my body in these sheets.”

He has entered the portal, not knowing what lies ahead and uncertain if he wants to accept that it may be nothing. There‘s a heavy emphasis on the future. In the music video, the Weeknd stares at his future, elderly self. There are also drugs, girls and sex, which are made out to be pleasantries that distract from the inevitable.

Like a person coming to faith, the Weeknd slowly evolves, making strides closer to the light and finding peace along the way. He rids all hesitation by almost dissociating himself from the nihilism he felt at the beginning of the album. “Heaven’s for those who let go of regret, and you have to wait here when you’re not all there yet.”

Religious undertones in music are nothing new. Madonna dedicated an entire album to “Like a Prayer” in the ‘80s. Kanye West debuted “Jesus is King” in 2019. Ariana Grande wants listeners to believe that “God is a Woman.” As much as these songs hint at different theologies, they are mostly about relationships. This is no different in “Dawn FM.” Part of the Weeknd is dying out, and his romantic relationship is losing life. 

“Out of Time,” the album’s seventh track, explains this. 

“Say I love you girl, but I’m out of time,” the Weeknd sings. 

He is inching toward the light, and this moment is the point of no return. However, the finish line is not fully recognized. 

“Tasteful elevator music” is how one of my friends described “Dawn FM.” Another friend remarked, “Is there anything left to believe?” The music videos for the album depict a psychedelic dance party where escapism outweighs reality. There is no trust in the trance, and up to this point, not much makes sense.

“You're almost there, but don’t panic — there’s still more music to come before you're completely engulfed in the blissful embrace of that little light you see in the distance. Soon you'll be healed, forgiven and refreshed; free from all trauma, pain, guilt and shame,” Carrey says, emerging again. “But before you dwell in that house forever, here's 30 more minutes of easy listening to some slow tracks.”

The guiding narration is a reference to Psalm 23: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” The Weeknd will dwell forever in a place with no regret or worry.

Carrey’s presence in the album makes the slow realization of “the other side” peaceful. The drugs, girls and sex are wearing off. Memories of the relationship are coming back — but not before a euphoric commercial advertising a subscription to the afterlife, which according to Carrey, “makes your current life look like a total snooze fest.” 

This track, entitled “Every Angel is Terrifying,” seems to poke at the televangelists or megachurches that promise to help people get into heaven. For only $4.95, a world beyond your imagination could be yours, though there is a charge of $3.79 for shipping and handling. The track merges the FM radio theme with the religious innuendos that prevail. Carrey becomes one of those radio evangelists in the advertisement and offers heaven in exchange for pay. 

Then, the upbeat desire for chaos fades away. In the penultimate track, “Less Than Zero,” the singer feels less than zero about being with the girl he dreams about. It is the end of the journey. All the distractions only made for a false reality, but in the sobering moment when the last narration by Carrey comes on, listeners are fully aware that the album is not concerned with taking them to heaven but rather bringing heaven to them. 

“You gotta be heaven to see heaven,” Carrey says. 

Accepting heaven means being okay with transcending through the portal, not remaining stuck in it. 

The introspective journey “Dawn FM” takes brings a “come to faith” moment, complemented with self-discovery. But one question remains: Who is “the Jesus?” The songs make it seem left up to the individual. Vices are different for everyone, and just as Jesus satisfies a believer, there is finally acceptance of traveling into the light that has been lingering for the past hour and 30 minutes. A new “dawn” rises.

“May Peace be with you,” Carrey says, and “Dawn FM” goes quiet.

Connor Walter is a journalism student at The King's College and the managing editor of the student newspaper, Empire State Tribune.