Listening to Dawn FM is, quite literally, a religious experience. With references to crucifixion (“Don’t Break My Heart”), other-worldly beings (“Every Angel is Terrifying”), and the afterlife (“Phantom Regret by Jim”), The Weeknd pirouettes through his self-made, musical, metaphorical purgatory. He runs from his reckless youth of drugs and strip clubs and turns towards “the light,” acknowledging his emotional growth through a physical depiction of his older self — cue the album’s cover art.

In the past two years, death has proven ubiquitous. Rather than romanticizing this, The Weeknd uses the threat of mortality to create a remarkable album of reckoning. He is admittedly afraid of being alone, honestly asking “How Do I Make You Love Me?” and blatantly begging “Don’t Break My Heart.” Insecurity naturally follows from this fear and informs some tumultuous relationships, including one with a wedded woman (“I Heard You’re Married”), one where it’s too late for “I love you” (“Out of Time”), and one that could end in annihilation (“I can’t take another heartbreak / or I’ll end it all”) (“Don’t Break My Heart”). Quincy Jones serves as Abel Tesfaye’s spokesperson on the psyche, explaining to us outsiders that his “toxic love” is likely a result of trauma. (Tesfaye’s father left when he was young, and he began using drugs at age 11.)

Dawn FM follows The Weeknd’s signature sound, employing elements of R&B, 80s-style synth-pop, and funk to achieve what feels like a fever dream. He explicitly references R.E.M. (“Gasoline”) and Prince (“Phantom Regret”), quotes T. Rex (“Phantom Regret”), and brings new life into Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away” (“Take My Breath”), while the album takes tones reminiscent of the Stranger Things theme mixed with Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Dawn FM gives “retro” a double meaning, as the album is both thematically retrospective and sonically vintage.

Jim Carrey serves as Dawn FM’s DJ, sending us seamlessly from song to song with inimitable etherealness. Appearing on both the opening and closing tracks, Carrey bookends the album by asking the listener about their life with an eerie intonation and everyday expressions. He implores us with a simple “scared?” before we embark into the “abyss” (“Dawn FM”). In “Phantom Regret,” he forces us to reflect on our relationships (“How many grudges did you take to your grave?”), our actions (“When you weren’t liked or followed, how did you behave?”), and our own consciousness with a question close to The Weeknd’s heart: “Were you high, or just stoned?”