On Wednesday night, I worked ‘After Hours.’
Not at my job – at The Weeknd concert at Gillette Stadium in Foxborough, MA. The New England Patriot’s home turf was transformed into a dazzling display of crystals, lasers, and strobe lights for the singer’s third time performing at the stadium, proving that dark pop can shine just as bright as the shimmering synth sounds of its mainstream counterpart.
Boasting a nearly fifty-song setlist, The Weeknd’s show was a sweeping showcase of his career, covering decades of music and a range of genres from his past albums. From his early, hauntingly atmospheric tracks like “Wicked Games” to the infectious, danceable beats of “Blinding Lights,” the concert offered moments for fans both old and new to celebrate his musical evolution.
The stage design was something out of a dystopian dream. For much of the show, The Weeknd stood atop the ruins of a city skyline, commanding the stage like a lone ruler surveying his domain. The crumbling buildings around him felt like the remnants of a forgotten world, and in this desolate kingdom, his dancers were his loyal subjects. Their movements were precise and almost otherworldly—sharp, calculated, and robotic, as if they were part of some hypnotic ritual. Dressed in head-to-toe red chiffon, their attire resembled the eerie cloaks from the hit Peacock show The Traitors, complete with face coverings that added an air of mystery to their every step.
It didn’t take long for it to become clear: The Weeknd wasn’t just performing—he was inhabiting this realm. He owned every inch of it, and, as the music reverberated through the stadium, it felt like we, too, were being pulled into his world, hypnotized by the rhythm, much like his dancers were. The atmosphere was chilling yet mesmerizing, leaving you entranced and eager to see where he would take us next.
As the show progressed, the night sky above the stadium became the perfect backdrop for his haunting vocals and the ever-ascending lights that sliced through the darkness (we were ‘blinded by the lights,’ if you will). Midway through the show, he brought out opener Playboi Carti for a duet of Carti’s song, “RATHER LIE,” which sent Playboi fans and Weeknd fans alike into a frenzy. It was a moment of perfect musical fusion, where the worlds of cloud rap and dark pop collided in a mesmerizing swirl of sound and lights.  Â
The show wrapped up with a pulse-pounding rendition of “Moth to a Flame,” his hit with Swedish House Mafia. As the final notes reverberated through the stadium, The Weeknd stood at the edge of the stage, gazing out at the sea of fans, a look of disbelief on his face—as if, in that moment, he couldn’t quite grasp that this was his reality. There’s something deeply humbling about watching an artist who’s already achieved so much still seem in awe of what he’s accomplished. It’s easy to cheer for someone who knows they’ve made it, especially when the crowd around you is roaring in excitement. But with The Weeknd, you sense it’s not just about the fame. He’s not The Weeknd, the chart-topping, record-shattering icon—he’s Abel Tesfaye, the Canadian guy who, against all odds, gets to live this extraordinary life because of the unwavering support from fans all over the world. And, as they continue to show up, so does he, always working to earn it. Â
Afterwards, the world outside may have returned to its normal pace, but for those few hours, we were somewhere else entirely. And for that, I’d worked After Hours—not just as a spectator, but as a participant in something much larger than myself. Â
For tickets to the ‘After Hours, Til Dawn’ tour, visit https://www.theweeknd.com/tour/