The Weeknd vs. Abel Tesfaye

With an instantly recognisable voice and songs that have been streamed several billion times, he’s one of the most ubiquitous pop stars in the world. But where do Abel Tesfaye end and his dark, grimy public persona begin? Mark Anthony Green finally gets the artist to explain

- Mark Anthony Green

Adult movies. Colour TV. Waterbed. These are three amenities that the Harvard House, an hourly motel tucked away on Hollywood Boulevard, LA, still proudly advertises in 2021. When a Yelp user wrote a one-star review that concluded with the line “definitely avoid this shithole”, I doubt they foresaw it being the temporary lair for one of the biggest global pop stars of our time.

He’s leaning against a wall, wearing a pinstripe Louis Vuitton suit and Celine Cuban heels that are so tall they look like you need a safety permit to wear them. Styling assistants and groomers buzz around him, primping and tweaking. Today his hair, a celebrity in its own right, consists of tiny curls perfectly cascading out of an Afro. Each rogue coil attracts light from the sun, creating something like a halo. Despite the current heat advisory in LA, there isn’t a single bead of sweat on his brow. No sheen. Nothing.

EVERYONE CROWDING AROUND the monitor looking at the incoming photos is thinking the same thing: it’s him. The ‘Starboy’. The architect of the sexiest music to ever chart. The sole winner of Super Bowl LV (halftime show). Lover to some of the most desired women on earth. The Ethiopian kid who changed R&B with three twisted, druggy mixtapes and never showed his face. The one with the falsetto rivalled only by the GOAT. The pop star who was infamously nominated for an award at a kids’ show for singing about face numbing off a bag of blow. Sure, the Harvard House has seen some shit. But so has Abel Tesfaye – a.k.a. The Weeknd.