He spends the majority of the songs cautioning a would-be lover away, but his fragile falsetto is a starmaker capable of wringing sympathy from even the most skeptical listeners it almost sounds like earnest concern when he begs, “Don't you fall in love, don't make me make you fall in love,” on “The Birds, Pt. Thursday, which appears here with all of its original samples restored, is somehow even more joyless than its predecessor-tinges of aggression slice through the atmospherics of the production, and callousness wipes out any semblance of pretense. “It seems like pain and regret are your best friends, 'cause everything you do leads to them,” he coos on the tape's opening verse, a masochist courting a masochist. The singer's cocktail of hedonism and anonymity made his second effort equally as potent as his first, thrusting listeners into his intoxicating world of sex and drugs once more. By the time The Weeknd released Thursday, just five months after his debut mixtape, the world still knew little about him but remained hopelessly drawn into his darkness.
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