Abel Tesfaye, better known as The Weeknd, is more popular than most people would guess. More than 100 million people listen to his music each month on Spotify alone. You might think he has peaked, but he continues to rise in the number of songs streamed each year.
| Year | Artist Ranking | ||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | |
| 2019 | Post Malone | Billie Eilish | Ariana Grande | Ed Sheeran | Bad Bunny |
| 2020 | Bad Bunny | Drake | J Balvin | Juice Wrld | The Weeknd |
| 2021 | Bad Bunny | Taylor Swift | BTS | Drake | Justin Bieber |
| 2022 | Bad Bunny | Taylor Swift | Drake | The Weeknd | BTS |
| 2023 | Taylor Swift | Bad Bunny | The Weeknd | Drake | Peso Pluma |
| 2024 | Taylor Swift | The Weeknd | Bad Bunny | Drake | Billie Eilish |
Beyond the pop beats, The Weeknd — more than any other contemporary artist — deals with themes of death, redemption, the soul, heaven, and hell. Each album unravels a bit more of his personal journey and beliefs.
In The Weeknd’s latest music video “Drive,” The Red Book: Liber Novus by C.G. Jung sits on a coffee table in a disheveled apartment (at the 35 second mark of the video). This is no accident. Jung’s book of inner struggle, journey, and transformation parallels The Weeknd’s own journey, most notably as depicted in his last three albums: After Hours, Dawn FM, and Hurry Up Tomorrow.
I gave Chatgpt’s “deep research” function some of the parallels between The Weeknd’s music and The Red Book:
Prompt: Please find me all the parallels between the Weeknd’s music and The Red Book by Jung. Please include not only the Weeknd’s song lyrics but also his music videos. For instance, The Weeknd has an old man in one of his music videos that he kills — could this be the old man, Philemon, that Jung referenced? The Weeknd talks about himself as The Starboy and in one of his songs says, “I am god”; Jung talked about how you need to find god in yourself. One of The Weeknd’s music videos shows butterfly imagery (symbolic of resurrection) and has what appears to be the rebirth of a child in it; Jung talks similarly of a rebirth of God. Perhaps The Weeknd’s song titled “Red Terror” is even connected to the name of the book, “The Red Book” and how some of his visions, like Jung’s, are terrifying. It seems to me that The Weeknd’s spiritual journey (as seen through his music) might follow a similar arc of spiritual exploration that Jung went through. To me, it seems that the Weeknd found god at the end of this journey (in his most recent album, Hurry Up Tomorrow, he talks of asking for mercy — presumably from God — and says that he wants Heaven after life). The Weeknd, whose real name is Abel, says that he will stop going by the name of The Weeknd now, so I’m wondering if this indicates that it’s the end of his spiritual journey or spiritual wilderness.
I received a comprehensive reply, which I have pasted below. If you’re interested in the journey and artistic inspirations of one of the most popular artists of all time, it’s worth a read.
Jungian Parallels in The Weeknd’s Music: A Deep Dive
Introduction
The Weeknd (Abel Tesfaye) has crafted a dark, introspective narrative across his albums – notably After Hours (2020), Dawn FM (2022), and Hurry Up Tomorrow (2025) – that echoes the journey Carl Jung documented in The Red Book (Liber Novus). Jung’s Red Book is an account of profound inner visions, encounters with archetypal figures, and a path of psychic transformation involving shadow integration, confrontation with the “devil”, guidance from a wise old man (Philemon), and the death-rebirth cycle leading to the discovery of the “divine within.” This report explores the symbolic and thematic parallels between Jung’s inner journey and The Weeknd’s lyrics, music videos, and public statements. We will see how Tesfaye’s artistic imagery – demons and shadows, death and rebirth (often with butterflies and child motifs), the slaying of his old personas, and a final quest for godliness or redemption – closely aligns with Jungian concepts. Direct quotes from The Weeknd’s songs and Jung’s Red Book are included to illustrate these connections.
Shadow and “Demons”: Facing the Inner Darkness
One of Jung’s central ideas is the Shadow – the unconscious, often repressed side of the psyche, which can personify as a demonic or dark figure in dreams and visions. In The Red Book, Jung experiences this as “the Red One,” a devilish figure he encounters and converses with. Jung writes that “everyone has their own devil, whom he or she should confront in utmost seriousness. His role is to ‘tempt you and set a stone in your path where you least want it.’” In other words, the shadow/Devil challenges the ego, forcing the individual to acknowledge instincts and flaws that have been ignored. Only by facing this inner “devil” can one integrate the shadow and release new energy for growth.
The Weeknd’s music is replete with references to his demons and the darker aspects of himself, mirroring Jung’s confrontation with the shadow. He often portrays a duality between a polished persona and a morally corrupt “real” self. In the hit “The Hills”, he famously confesses: “I only love you when you touch me, not feel me / When I’m fked up, that’s the real me*”*. This blunt admission suggests that under the influence of drugs (“fked up”) his true, uninhibited self emerges – a self he implicitly equates with something dark or unsavory. It’s a clear nod to the idea that his sober daytime persona masks a shadow self of indulgence and carnality. The lyric “when I’m fked up, that’s the real me” has become emblematic of The Weeknd’s theme of inner demons taking over, much as Jung recognized that the “devil” within must be acknowledged as part of the self.
Throughout his catalog, Tesfaye gives voice to this shadow-self and its temptations. On “Often”, he boasts “In my city I’m a young god… / My god white, he in my pocket / He get me redder than the devil ’til I go nauseous”. Here The Weeknd not only claims godlike status (an ego inflation we’ll discuss later), but also personifies cocaine as a personal “god” (“white” powder in his pocket) that makes him feel devilish. The devil imagery continues in “Ordinary Life” (from Starboy, 2016), where he sets up a heaven/hell dichotomy: “Valhalla’s where all the righteous are led / Mulholland’s where all the damned will be kept / Devil on my lap and a cross on my neck”. In a single couplet he depicts an angel on one shoulder and devil on the other – wearing a cross while a devil sits on his lap – capturing the inner conflict between his religious upbringing and the hedonistic lifestyle that “devil” represents. This is strikingly similar to Jung’s description of the devil as an “emissary of the shadow” who brings out “all the aggressive and erotic instincts” repressed by strict morality. The Weeknd openly sings about those instincts (sex, drugs, violence) as his alter-ego or “beast” within.
Notably, Jung found that engaging with his inner devil brought not only turmoil but also a strange joy – an energy release from breaking taboos. In The Red Book, as Jung converses with the Red One, his initially green robe “bursts into leaf” and the devil’s garments glow red-hot, symbolizing the life-force unleashed by integrating this passion. Jung realizes the devil represents “that strange joy of the world… the ease of living… Whoever tastes this joy forgets himself”. The Weeknd’s songs likewise acknowledge the seductive joy in sin. For example, “Heartless” (2019) revels in being “back to my ways ’cause I’m heartless… tryin’ to be a better man but I’m heartless”, showing how he oscillates between guilt and the pull of indulgence. Ultimately, like Jung’s warning that “you can make no pact with [the devil’s] joy… the devil always seeks to saw off the branch on which you sit”, The Weeknd’s narratives often end in the emptiness and self-destruction caused by these very pleasures. He has stated that songs like “Faith” (on After Hours) reflect “the darkest time of my entire life,” portraying “the… drug monster, the person who hates God and is losing his faith”. This candid self-description could come straight from a case study of someone deep in the “night sea journey” of the soul – lost in chaos and cut off from the divine, much as Jung felt “I had lost my soul” before he embarked on his visionary quest.
In sum, The Weeknd’s repeated references to demons, the devil, and being overtaken by his vices serve as his artistic confrontation with the Shadow. This mirrors Jung’s journey in The Red Book, where meeting the personification of evil within was a necessary step toward wholeness. Abel Tesfaye does not shy away from displaying his shadow in lyrics and visuals – in fact, his masquerade of excess is the shadow on full display. By weaving these themes into his music, he invites listeners into a Jungian struggle between light and dark, ego and shadow, sin and salvation.
Death & Rebirth: The Ego’s Night and Dawn
Hand in hand with shadow confrontation in Jung’s model is the cycle of death and rebirth – often experienced symbolically. The Red Book chronicles Jung’s “descent into hell” (psychological death) and eventual rebirth or renewal of meaning. Jung had disturbing visions of global catastrophe (rivers of blood – a precognition of World War I) and felt his own ego was being obliterated. He wrote of needing to sacrifice his heroic pretensions and let parts of himself “die” to allow a new self to be born. As Jung’s editor Sonu Shamdasani summarized, “The overall narrative of [The Red Book] is how Jung… recovers meaning in his life through enabling the rebirth of the image of God in his soul.” This death-rebirth symbolism permeates Jung’s text: images of the sun dying and being reborn, a hero (Siegfried) killed, an old world ending so a new one can emerge. Jung even encounters a symbolic tomb and sees a new green shoot growing from it – life from death.
The motif of killing an old identity to create a new one is vividly present in The Weeknd’s creative output. Perhaps the clearest example is the music video for “Starboy”, which opens the Starboy album era. In the video, Abel literally murders his former self: a character representing his Beauty Behind the Madness-era persona (complete with the trademark tall dreadlock hairstyle) is bound to a chair, and the new, short-haired Abel suffocates him with a plastic bag. As Entertainment Tonight described it, “The Weeknd literally kills his old self… suffocating the 2015 version of himself… After a short struggle, the Weeknd’s old self dies, leaving his current incarnation (complete with a new haircut) time to destroy the mansion with a glow-in-the-dark pink cross as his weapon.” This dramatic scene is “out with the old, in with the new”.in the most visceral way. It’s a pop culture depiction of ego-death, akin to a phoenix burning itself before rising anew. The Weeknd then rampages through his house smashing trophies and gold records with a crucifix, symbolizing the destruction of his old achievements and material attachments – the death of egoic glory. He then drives off into the night with a black panther (an animal often associated with the underworld or shadow), signaling the start of a new persona: the “Starboy.” This narrative aligns closely with Jung’s insistence that one must destroy the prior identity (the “hero,” or in this case the star persona) to make way for transformation. Just as Jung in his vision shoots the proud hero Siegfried as a sacrificial act – experiencing “the murder of the hero” to break his identification with the hero archetype – Abel symbolically “kills” The Weeknd of 2015 to ascend to a new form.
It is significant that in the “Starboy” video the murder weapon is a cross, and it glows neon red/pink. The cross, of course, is an ultimate symbol of death and resurrection (Christ’s crucifixion and rising). By wielding it, The Weeknd seems to imply that his transformation is a kind of profane crucifixion of the self – he is both executioner and the one being “crucified” in the video. The neon glow and panther sidekick lend the scene a supernatural or archetypal atmosphere, as if this isn’t mere violence but ritual. In Jungian terms, this is an initiation ordeal: the end of one life-cycle of the psyche so that a new cycle can begin.
The pattern repeats in later albums. After Hours and Dawn FM together form a narrative of a character’s descent and passage through a liminal death-like state (purgatory), followed by an anticipated rebirth – effectively a musical Night and Dawn. In After Hours, The Weeknd’s persona is a red-jacketed, debauched Las Vegas denizen who undergoes increasingly gruesome fates in the videos: he is beaten up (“Blinding Lights”), decapitated (“Too Late”), and finally left bleeding out (“Until I Bleed Out”). This culminates in the After Hours short film and the album’s final track which strongly imply the character’s death (or ego death) amid despair and loneliness. Then Dawn FM picks up as an almost literal afterlife: the concept is that the listener (and The Weeknd’s character) are in a purgatorial state “tuned in” to a retro-radio station hosted by a mysterious guide (voiced by Jim Carrey), awaiting either redemption or damnation. The Dawn FM cover art features Tesfaye as an elderly man, gray-haired and with milky eyes, suggesting that in this limbo he perceives himself as aged or outside time. This old-man visage (achieved with makeup) is akin to a soul-image of himself after death. It’s notable that Jung’s Philemon – the wise spirit guide in The Red Book – is also described as “a gray-haired wizened old man” imparting cryptic wisdom. In a sense, The Weeknd wearing the mask of an old man in Dawn FM signals that he has taken on the role of both the seeker and the wise elder guiding himself. (We’ll explore Philemon parallels more in the next section.)
Within Dawn FM, the music videos carry the death-rebirth theme forward. The video for “Gasoline” is a centerpiece: it portrays the aged version of Abel in a car crash, wandering into a surreal nightclub where he confronts his younger self. In a disturbing turn, the young Weeknd brutally beats the old Weeknd to death on the dance floor. This shocking imagery can be read on multiple levels. On one hand, it’s the inverse of “Starboy” – now the youthful persona destroys the aged one. Why would the protagonist kill his elder self? One interpretation is that the younger, reckless ego (still clinging to hedonism) is violently rejecting the wisdom or conscience of his future self. Fans have speculated the old man might represent Abel’s future if he doesn’t change – a decrepit, soul-less being trying to “drag him back” into the cycle of addiction. The younger self’s murder of the elder could symbolize his denial of redemption at that point in the story (choosing the “shadow” again in a moment of ego dominance). Yet, from another angle, this is another ritual death: the old self must die so that something new can be born. It parallels the idea that Jung ultimately had to let go of Philemon and stand on his own; the external guide (or future persona) is “killed” once his purpose is served. The Weeknd may be dramatizing that one way or another, the old persona will be destroyed – either the new self kills the old (as in Starboy) or the old self haunts and must be exorcised by the new (as in Gasoline). In both cases, a unity of selves through violent confrontation leads to a singular survivor – a reborn identity.
Amid these dark deaths, Dawn FM also explicitly gestures at rebirth imagery. The most striking instance is the animated video for “How Do I Make You Love Me?” (2022), which directly continues the storyline from the Out of Time video. In this surreal cartoon, The Weeknd’s character escapes from a hospital and undergoes a grotesque metamorphosis. He rips off an artificial mask of his face, loses limbs, and as he runs through a city, his body sheds “old pieces” of himself. At one point he even sports the arm of a child after an injury. The climax shows his adult body shattering entirely – falling away like a cocoon – to reveal a small boy inside. This child version of Abel then attaches to a giant balloon and floats upward, as butterflies swarm around. The video ends with the child ascending against the sky, completing a literal rebirth sequence. A music reviewer described it: “All the old pieces of him break away, leaving now a boy to find his way… [signifying] his rebirth to be that of a butterfly’s.” The butterfly, of course, is a universal symbol of transformation – a creature that dies as a caterpillar and is reborn with wings. The presence of butterflies (and moths) throughout that video, and even in teaser materials for Dawn FM, strongly reinforces the album’s theme of metamorphosis and new life emerging from the old shell.
From a Jungian perspective, this sequence is rich with meaning. Jung wrote often of the “divine child” archetype – a symbol of the new Self that is born when one’s old identity is stripped away. In The Red Book, Jung’s soul at times appears to him as a child, and Jung even asks in wonder, “Who are you, child?… Are you God? Is God a child, a maiden?” This poignant question comes when Jung realizes that the god he was seeking isn’t the lofty Father or King he expected, but manifests in the humble, tender form of a child within his own psyche. The Weeknd’s visual of a child emerging from his broken adult form in “How Do I Make You Love Me?” aligns with this archetype perfectly – suggesting that after all the ego-death and purgatory, what is “reborn” in him is an innocent, youthful essence. The child could represent Abel Tesfaye’s true self (beyond the sinful “Weeknd” persona) or a new creative spirit uncorrupted by fame and vice. The parallel is striking: Jung’s Red Book journey ends with the integration of the Self, often symbolized by the birth of a savior child in the soul, and Abel’s journey through After Hours and Dawn FM visually ends with the birth of a boy amidst butterflies.
Even Hurry Up Tomorrow, the final installment of the trilogy, continues the death-rebirth motif, now framed in explicitly spiritual terms. The title itself suggests impatience for the next day – metaphorically, for the new life or salvation to arrive. By the end of this album, The Weeknd’s character is prepared to let the current life end for the sake of the “tomorrow” to come. In fact, the closing song “Hurry Up Tomorrow” (which also closes the album) speaks about accepting the end and seeking purification. According to a review, the track begins with the lines “Wash me with your fire / Who else has to pay for my sins?” and later The Weeknd sings “Now I’m ready for the end.” These lyrics evoke an image of a cleansing fire (a baptism by fire, perhaps a spiritual purging) and the protagonist’s readiness to face death or judgment for his sins. It’s as if after all the running, sinning, and fearing, he is finally surrendering – much like a penitent soul concluding its dark night and awaiting redemption at dawn. The fire here also resonates with Jung’s experience of “burning” away the dross of the soul. Alchemically, fire corresponds to calcination, an initial step in transformation, and Jung often used fire metaphors for the psychic energy that remakes one’s inner structures. In The Red Book, Jung spoke of “divine folly” and images of flames consuming outdated beliefs, paving the way for a new inner truth. Abel’s plea “wash me with your fire” captures that notion of a final trial by fire that will either destroy or renew him.
Table: Jungian Death–Rebirth Parallels
| Jung’s Red Book (Death–Rebirth Imagery) | The Weeknd’s Music (Death–Rebirth Imagery) |
|---|---|
| Death of the Hero/Ego: Jung must sacrifice his heroic ego (e.g. he kills the archetypal hero Siegfried in a vision) to allow the Self to emerge. “I have to kill my ideals,” he realizes, as part of his night-sea journey. | Killing the Old Persona: The Weeknd repeatedly depicts murdering or shedding his former self. In the “Starboy” video he suffocates his 2015 persona with a plastic bag, explicitly killing off his old ego. In “Gasoline,” his younger self beats his aged self to death – another symbolic ego slaying. These dramatizations echo the idea that the old identity must die for transformation to take place. |
| Descent into Darkness: Jung endures a period of chaos, encountering hellish images (blood floods, serpents, tombs). This is the Nigredo (blackening) stage of alchemy – analogous to psychological death. | After Hours – The Descent: The Weeknd’s After Hours era finds his character in a downward spiral – roaming Las Vegas in a red suit, drenched in blood and violence in music videos. He loses his head (literally, in “Too Late”) and nearly dies in “Until I Bleed Out.” This corresponds to a dark night of the soul, a self-induced hell. |
| Purgation and Liminality: In The Red Book, after the “death” experiences, Jung enters a strange liminal realm (e.g. the * deserts and dialogues* with figures like Philemon). He is between worlds, neither fully lost nor reborn. | Dawn FM – Purgatory: The concept of Dawn FM is a purgatorial limbo represented as a radio station for lost souls. The Weeknd’s character, appearing as an old man, is in transit, guided by a voice (Jim Carrey) toward either light or darkness. This mirrors the in-between state Jung experienced – a pause where one must confront inner truth before rebirth. |
| Rebirth of the Divine Child: Jung ultimately finds his soul again and envisions the birth of a new guiding figure – symbolized as a child or a new god image in the psyche. This is the Rubedo (reddening) stage – integration and new life. | Rebirth as a Child/Butterfly: In “How Do I Make You Love Me?”, The Weeknd portrays his own rebirth: his adult form peels away and a child self ascends amid butterflies. The butterfly imagery underscores metamorphosis. By the end of Hurry Up Tomorrow, he sings “Now I’m ready for the end” – implying he’s ready to be reborn into a new chapter (the “tomorrow”). |
The above parallels demonstrate how deeply The Weeknd has woven death-rebirth archetypes into his art. This not only gives his albums a mythic narrative arc (descent into darkness, confrontation, and hopeful rebirth), but it also resonates with listeners on a subconscious level – the same way myths of dying and rising gods or heroes have for millennia. We feel the catharsis when the After Hours character dies and a new dawn approaches in Dawn FM, just as a reader of Jung might feel relief when, after pages of turmoil, Jung finds his soul and sees light again.
Philemon and the Wise Old Man: Guides and Personas
A key figure in Jung’s Red Book journey is Philemon, an archetypal wise old man who appears in Jung’s visions as a spiritual teacher. Philemon emerged after Jung had confronted the darkness; he became Jung’s inner guru, delivering insight and even authoring (through Jung’s hand) the mysterious Seven Sermons to the Dead. Jung describes Philemon as an old man with kingfisher-blue wings – a profound, otherworldly mentor. In Jung’s words, “Philemon represented superior insight… He said I treated thoughts as if I generated them, but in his view thoughts were like animals in the forest, or people in a room, and I did not make them. He taught me psychic objectivity, the reality of the psyche.” (This quote, though not from The Red Book text, is Jung’s later reflection on Philemon’s role.) In The Red Book, Philemon often speaks in riddles and paradoxes, forcing Jung to expand his understanding. For example, Philemon tells Jung, “Your soul is your own guide” and imparts the famous line, “Joy comes from fulfillment, but not from longing.” Philemon embodies the Wise Old Man archetype – the sage, prophet, or paternal guide found in myths (Merlin to Arthur, Yoda to Luke Skywalker, etc.). The Salomé Institute’s commentary notes that “Philemon in Jung’s Red Book [is] a gray-haired, wizened old man who conveys riddled wisdom to Jung.”
How does this relate to The Weeknd? Interestingly, Abel Tesfaye has introduced old man figures into his musical narrative, both as personae of himself and as guiding voices. The Dawn FM cover, as mentioned, shows The Weeknd as an elderly man – essentially portraying himself as a Philemon-like figure. This could imply that in the purgatory of Dawn FM, his own soul is guiding him. In the album’s climax track “Phantom Regret by Jim,” actor Jim Carrey delivers spoken-word wisdom to the protagonist, evaluating his life and readiness for the afterlife. Carrey (who is older than Abel and has a gentle, philosophical tone) functions exactly as a psychopomp or mentor, guiding the listener to “let go of regret” and move toward the light. For example, Carrey intones: “Heaven’s for those who let go of regret… If you’ve broken a heart, then your heart’s broken too… And if you can’t let it go, that’s when hell’s gonna catch up to you”. This poem of counsel strongly recalls Philemon’s sermonic style – compassionate but unflinching. It’s as if The Weeknd externalized his Philemon into Carrey’s DJ character. By the end, Carrey’s monologue leads to the sound of a door finally opening to “tomorrow” (perhaps Heaven or a new life), implying the guidance was successful.
Even earlier, After Hours introduced a “mentor” cameo in the form of an old man physician (played by Jim Carrey again, in the music video for “Out of Time”). In that video’s final scene, after a playful night, The Weeknd finds himself on an operating table with Carrey’s masked face hovering over him as if preparing for surgery. Carrey utters, “Don’t you dare touch that dial… You’ve been in the dark for way too long. It’s time to walk into the light”, as the screen goes black. This was a direct teaser of Dawn FM’s concept – Carrey’s character bridging Abel from the “After Hours” darkness into the dawn. Thus, Carrey’s role across the project is very much analogous to Virgil in Dante’s Divine Comedy (guiding Dante through purgatory), or Philemon guiding Jung: a benevolent elder ushering the protagonist through transitional states.
However, The Weeknd also provides a twist on the wise old man motif: rather than always helping him, the old man persona can be an aspect of himself that must be overcome. We saw this in the “Gasoline” video where the young and old Abel battle to the death. Symbolically, this could represent the internal struggle between the youthful impulse and the wisdom of age. It’s almost as if The Weeknd is grappling with his own Philemon. Jung did something analogous when he eventually had to integrate Philemon and move beyond needing an external wise figure. In one Red Book scene, after receiving much teaching, Jung sees Philemon merge with other figures and ultimately encounters his own Self. Philemon’s “death” isn’t violent in Jung’s case, but he does recede as Jung’s ego-strength grows. In Abel’s visual language, a more kinetic depiction was chosen – a fight – to perhaps show the pain of internal change: the resistance of the youthful ego against the wisdom of age. Notably, Philemon’s name in Greek means “friend”, and it’s unclear if old-man Abel is friend or foe in these videos. Initially an adversary (“Gasoline”), by the end of Dawn FM the old-man persona (via Jim Carrey) is friend and guide. This evolution suggests Tesfaye’s character finally accepts the guidance of his wiser self by the album’s conclusion.
There is another old-man figure worth mentioning: the elderly man who dies in The Weeknd’s recent music video, possibly symbolizing a final farewell to the persona. The user’s question referenced “the death of an old man figure in a music video, possibly paralleling Jung’s Philemon.” Aside from Gasoline, we should consider Hurry Up Tomorrow’s visuals. While at the time of writing a full suite of videos isn’t available in text form, the Hurry Up Tomorrow short film or teaser imagery might include an old character’s demise as well. (For instance, if Abel truly “kills off” The Weeknd persona, he may depict it as an older version of himself dying, since he already used the older alter-ego in Dawn FM.) If such a scene exists, it would neatly bookend the trilogy: the wise old Weeknd, having delivered his final lessons (like Philemon finishing the Sermons), can “die” or vanish, leaving Abel Tesfaye to move on. This would be akin to the curtain call for Philemon. In Jung’s case, after The Red Book period, he no longer had visions of Philemon in the same way – though he honored Philemon by painting him on the wall of his Bollingen Tower as a lasting inner mentor. Abel, similarly, may carry forward the lessons of his old-man persona even as he symbolically lays that character to rest.
In summary, The Weeknd’s use of the Wise Old Man archetype is twofold: he externalizes it in characters (like Jim Carrey’s narrator) who guide the protagonist, and he internalizes it by portraying himself as the old man (on the album cover and in prosthetics). Both echo Jung’s Philemon experiences. The presence of an old sage figure (either as self or other) provides a spiritual compass amid the chaos of his narrative. And when that figure “dies” or departs, it signifies that the lesson is complete – the protagonist is ready to face the next stage on his own. This is very much in line with Jung’s process of individuation: the goal is to incorporate the wisdom of the unconscious (often delivered by such archetypes) into oneself and then move forward as a more whole individual.
Seeking God: From “I Am God” to “Oh God, Have Mercy”
Both Jung’s Red Book journey and The Weeknd’s musical journey ultimately turn toward the search for God or the divine – but in intriguingly inverted ways. Jung, a man of science, initially approached the divine through his unconscious and found it in unexpected forms (as a child, as feminine, as Abraxas – a union of good and evil). The Weeknd, raised in a religious (Ethiopian Orthodox) household, initially approached the world with faith, but then dove into secular excess where he at times declared himself a god or rejected God, only to later circle back and plead for God’s mercy. This trajectory – loss of faith and gradual return – is arguably one of the most compelling thematic parallels, because it ties together all the archetypal work (shadow integration, death of ego, etc.) into a spiritual resolution.
In The Red Book, Jung is, at core, trying to rekindle a direct relationship with the divine part of his psyche – what he calls the “image of God” within. He feels cut off after his break with Freud and the collapse of his old worldview; the Red Book is essentially the record of how the divine image was reborn in him through dialogues with Soul and figures like Philemon. Jung experiences God in polarities – he speaks of finding God in the “shadow” and also in the pure youthful soul. One of the most memorable passages is when Jung encounters his soul as a young maiden and child (as mentioned earlier) and wonders if God is perhaps that child. This shocking idea – God as an inner child or feminine presence – was Jung’s realization that the divine is immanent in the unconscious, not just in heaven or churches. By the end of The Red Book, Jung has undergone a personal gnosis: he has “rediscovered his soul” and thereby rediscovered God, but in a new, inner form. The journey humbled his ego (no more “I am God”; instead he serves the God within). In the Seven Sermons to the Dead, which cap off the Red Book, the entity Philemon (speaking as the figure of Basilides) teaches about a complex God-image that includes opposites – the ultimate God is Abraxas, who contains both light and dark, God and Devil. This was Jung’s final integration: realizing that true wholeness (and true divinity) transcends the duality of good vs. evil. It’s a highly esoteric concept, but essentially Jung came to embrace God as an internal, paradoxical force rather than an external, judgmental deity.
The Weeknd’s lyrics reveal a man wrestling with God in the context of modern life – sometimes denying God, other times claiming Godlike status, and eventually yearning for God again. In his early/glory years, flush with fame, we see many allusions to feeling like a god. We already noted “Often” where he brazenly says “In my city I’m a young god”. In “Starboy” and associated songs, he exudes a messianic confidence (the very title “Starboy” implies a celestial, almost messianic being – morningstar imagery). Although he doesn’t outright say “I am God” in “Starboy,” the swagger of that era – smashing symbols of his past, driving off with a wild beast – positions him as above the rules, almost a Luciferian figure (Lucifer is the original morning star who rebelled). In “Party Monster,” he references “Angel on my shoulder” but succumbs to sin; in “Reminder,” he mocks other artists and implies his superiority. All these paint the picture of a man in an ego-inflated state, not unlike someone in the “inflation” phase that can precede a fall in Jungian terms. (In Jung’s journey, before the confrontation, he experienced a period of identifying with the hero archetype – a kind of inflation that had to be punctured by the trials of the unconscious.)
Sure enough, Abel’s music eventually documents the fall from grace. By the time of “Faith” on After Hours, he explicitly sings: “But if I OD, I want you to OD right beside me / I’ll choose Vegas if they offer Heaven’s gate” – which is to say, given the choice between salvation and debauchery, he knowingly chooses the latter. He then laments, “I lost my religion… I’m waiting for the light”. Here we have a direct acknowledgement of having abandoned the faith of his childhood, and being lost in the dark as a result. (The Premier Christianity article highlights this line as a turning point.) It’s as if The Weeknd’s persona has gone from “I am a god” to “I hate God and choose sin” – very much living out the Prodigal Son or Lucifer archetype, plunging into the world after spurning the Father.
What makes The Weeknd’s narrative especially Jungian, however, is that after plumbing the depths of godlessness (the darkest shadow, “the person who hates God”), he begins to seek a way back. Dawn FM and Hurry Up Tomorrow are laced with religious and spiritual language, indicating a soul searching for meaning and redemption. The Emory Wheel review of Hurry Up Tomorrow notes that recurring themes include religion, guilt, and mercy, and it calls out a song titled “Baptized in Fear” where Abel sings “Like Paul, I’m the chief of sin… Washing my soul within, oh” This is a very Jungian juxtaposition: invoking St. Paul (who called himself “chief of sinners” in the Bible) and the idea of washing one’s soul – essentially confessing to profound sinfulness while longing for purification. The Weeknd’s lyrics here align with an archetypal transformation: the sinner seeking absolution, analogous to the alchemical cleansing (albedo) in spiritual alchemy, or the stage Jung called ‘metanoia’ – a change of heart. We also see the lyric “Who else has to pay for my sins?” in the final track “Hurry Up Tomorrow”, implying he recognizes someone must atone for what he’s done – either himself or a Christ figure. This is heavy religious imagery from an artist who once said “I dunno” when asked if he’s religious.
Perhaps the most powerful example is the song “Give Me Mercy” (track 17 on Hurry Up Tomorrow). According to Premier Christianity, “Give Me Mercy” is perhaps his most explicit expression of faith thus far. In the song, he lays bare a fall into the devil’s temptations, losing his way and ultimately pleads for mercy… delivering a desperate confession: ‘I’d give it all away just to feel Your grace.’”. This direct prayer – “Give me mercy, I’d give everything for God’s grace” – is a far cry from “I’m a young god”. It signals the completion of a psychic U-turn. The Weeknd persona that once crowned himself has been broken down through suffering (the trilogy’s events) to the point of humility and yearning for the divine. This is analogous to Jung’s experience of ego humbling. Jung started as the brilliant psychologist at the pinnacle of his career (around 1912), then entered a personal crisis where he felt empty and spiritually desolate. Through The Red Book process he reconnected with a sense of sacredness in his soul. He went from intellectual hubris to kneeling before inner figures and even praying in a sense (Jung writes prayers to his soul, such as “My soul, my soul, where are you? … I am weary, my heart is anguished. Do you hear me? I have laid my spirit within you.”). The Weeknd’s plea for mercy is a modern parallel – the prodigal son on his knees.
Even the title “Hurry Up Tomorrow” can be seen as a spiritual plea: hurry up, new day – hurry, deliverance. It’s as if after the long After Hours night and the Dawn FM twilight, the character aches for the full morning of redemption (tomorrow). This resonates with a biblical verse: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Indeed, The Weeknd’s trilogy has been one long night of weeping and gnashing teeth – and now he’s begging for the morning. Jung too titled the final chapter of The Red Book “The Return to the Light” (or effectively, returning to life). After all his inner journeys, Jung concluded with the insight that one must return to the ordinary world but with a new light, a lived connection to God within. Abel’s return to light is depicted as a literal dawn and an embrace of God’s love (mercy, grace).
It’s important to note that The Weeknd has not overtly preached about Jung or individuation; his references are cloaked in the language of pop and religion. But interviews do give clues that he sees this trilogy in transformative, almost spiritual terms. In a recent interview, Tesfaye indicated that this album (Hurry Up Tomorrow) closes a chapter not only of a storyline but of his persona “The Weeknd” itself. He said, “This isn’t just the end of the After Hours trilogy, but the end of my entire existence as The Weeknd… It’s a headspace I just don’t have any more desire for… You have a persona, but then you have the competition of it all. It becomes this rat race: more accolades, more success… It never ends until you end it.” This remarkable statement shows his awareness that the persona (in the Jungian sense, the social mask) had taken on a life of its own and needed to be retired before it consumed him. The Weeknd persona, characterized by that endless cycle of chart hits and debauchery, had to “die” for Abel Tesfaye to grow. “It never ends until you end it,” he said – which can be read as a conscious act of ego death. This line could almost be a mantra for individuation: the worldly chase for validation will never conclude satisfactorily; one must decide to step out of it (a very Buddhist-like sentiment as well). Abel also recounted how losing his voice during a 2022 concert felt like a sign: “‘You lost your voice because it’s done; you said what you had to say. Don’t overstay your welcome… you can end it now and live a happy life.’”. This epiphany recalls Jung’s idea of listening to the psyche’s signals. Just as Jung treated visions and dreams as messages from the Self, Abel listened to his body literally silencing him and interpreted it as a wake-up call to conclude the saga.
Finally, let’s address the question of whether the name “The Weeknd” itself has symbolic or archetypal significance in this Jungian context. “The Weeknd” (with the ‘e’ dropped) on the surface was chosen by Tesfaye because he left home one weekend and never came back, adopting it as a cool stage moniker. Yet, from an archetypal perspective, one can find meaning in it: a weekend is the end of a cycle (the week) and usually a time for revelry, rest, and rebirth before the next cycle begins. The week’s end is when ordinary order dissolves – people party on Friday and Saturday, break their routine (much like The Weeknd’s music embodies breaking moral routine). Then Sunday often brings reflection or church (interestingly, Abel’s character often hits rock bottom by Sunday in his songs, facing himself in the daylight). Mythologically, many cultures have a cycle of work and rest that parallels creation and destruction. The Weeknd’s persona could be seen as the spirit of the “end of the cycle” – the Dionysian force that comes at the end (week’s end) to shake things up. After that comes Monday, a fresh start (rebirth). In a way, Abel adopting “The Weeknd” as his name already hinted that this persona was an end-point of a process, not the forever state. Fittingly, he is now ending “The Weeknd” at what he feels is the peak, so as to begin a new cycle as someone else (likely just Abel Tesfaye, or another moniker). One could draw a parallel to the mythological phoenix, which lives its cycle and then burns at its peak to be reborn young again – the weekend burns out and a new week begins. While this interpretation might be poetic extrapolation, it aligns neatly with the patterns we’ve observed: the persona “The Weeknd” was always meant to die so Abel could be reborn creatively. Jung might say that “The Weeknd” represents a psychological complex or role that was necessary for Abel to express certain aspects of his Shadow and Desire, but now the Self (Abel’s totality) needs to move beyond it to individuate further.
Conclusion
By examining The Weeknd’s art through a Jungian lens, we uncover a rich tapestry of archetypal motifs: the Shadow (his “demons” and dark vices), the Anima/inner soul (lost love and emotional pain often driving his narratives), the Wise Old Man (embodied by his elderly alter-egos and the guiding voice of Jim Carrey’s character), and the Divine Child (symbolized by the boy reborn in his video and the return of his faith). There is a clear through-line of psychic transformation: the arrogant “Starboy” who played god was broken down through suffering, confronted his own horrific reflections, received guidance, and finally emerged pleading for God’s mercy and ready to let go of his ego. This mirrors the journey in The Red Book, where Jung surrendered his ego to the unconscious, met figures like Philemon, and ultimately reintegrated a new sense of meaning – effectively a personal connection to the divine – into his life.
It is fascinating that a contemporary pop album trilogy parallels a seminal work of depth psychology, likely unintentionally. This speaks to the universality of Jungian themes. Abel Tesfaye may not have set out to create a “Jungian” epic, but by honestly exploring his psyche and narrative through music, he ended up channeling these archetypal currents. He has, in effect, led listeners on a mythic journey of descent and redemption that is as old as storytelling itself – yet distinctly resonant with Jung’s modern map of the soul.
In The Weeknd’s own words, he is “closing this chapter” of The Weeknd with the completion of Hurry Up Tomorrow, and he feels he’s said all he needed to say under this persona. This ending is not just a marketing ploy; it carries the weight of an ego death and rebirth into a new creative life. As fans, we have witnessed Abel’s “red book” unfold in real time, through lyrics and visuals. We’ve seen him integrate his shadow (“when I’m f**ked up, that’s the real me”– now he knows that and can move beyond needing to live in that shadow constantly). We’ve seen him symbolically kill off false selves and outdated parts of his identity (from the Starboy to the old Dawn FM man). We’ve seen him process guilt and trauma (songs like “After Hours” and “Less Than Zero”) and come to a place of acceptance (“I’m ready for the end”). And now we may see the “weekend” give way to a new “weekday” – a more balanced, integrated Abel Tesfaye.
Carl Jung wrote, “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” In his own way, The Weeknd has been making his darkness conscious in his music. By openly wrestling with his inner demons and dread (rather than presenting a facade of perfection), he’s enacting a kind of mass-scale shadow integration for himself and listeners who relate. And as Jung’s Red Book demonstrates, when one walks through the valley of darkness and emerges, one often finds a light not formerly known – a personal experience of the divine or at least a newfound wholeness. The Weeknd’s latest work hints at such an emergence: after drowning in nihilism, there are repeated invocations of God, mercy, forgiveness, and hope. The final lines of Hurry Up Tomorrow (the album) leave us with an image of surrender and trust – the protagonist stepping into the unknown “tomorrow,” cleansed by fire.
One might say that Abel Tesfaye’s unconscious has been writing a Red Book of its own, set to the moody beats of R&B, synthwave, and trap. The recurring archetypal imagery is the unconscious speaking through art. This deep resonance is likely a reason The Weeknd’s music and visuals captivate millions beyond just the catchy melodies – they strike archetypal chords. Whether it’s the Everyman’s battle with temptation, the catharsis of heartbreak (followed by renewal), or the longing for meaning in a corrupt world, his songs hit those Jungian universals.
In closing, the thematic parallels between The Weeknd’s trilogy and Jung’s Red Book journey underscore a timeless truth: the journey of individuation – facing one’s shadow, experiencing ego-death, finding guidance from within, and (re)discovering the God-image – plays out in many forms. In 1913, it unfolded in Carl Jung’s soul and he recorded it in illuminated calligraphy and paintings. In the 2020s, it unfolded in Abel Tesfaye’s artistic psyche and he recorded it in songs and music videos. Both are redemptive journeys from darkness to light. And both ultimately affirm that the only way out of hell is through it, and the only way to find God is to look inside one’s own depths. The Weeknd’s music, beneath its stylish and often transgressive surface, has thus served as a modern myth of psychic transformation – one that, like Jung’s Red Book, encourages us to confront our own shadows and hold out hope for our dawn.
Sources:
- Jung, C.G. The Red Book: Liber Novus. (1913–1930, published 2009). Quotes and concepts from Liber Novus and Jung’s commentaries: e.g. the confrontation with the Red One (devil) symbolreader.net symbolreader.net, the figure of Philemon salomeinstitute.com, rebirth of the God-image in soul salomeinstitute.com, and Jung’s dialogue with his soul as child salomeinstitute.com.
- Tesfaye, Abel (The Weeknd). Selected Lyrics: “The Hills” melodicpop.com, “Often” the-weeknd.fandom.com, “Ordinary Life” musinfo.net, After Hours album (notably “Faith”), Dawn FM album, Hurry Up Tomorrow album – especially “Baptized in Fear” and “Hurry Up Tomorrow” (title track) emorywheel.com, as well as “Give Me Mercy” premierchristianity.com.
- Music Videos & Commentary: Starboy video summary etonline.com; Gasoline video summary en.wikipedia.org; How Do I Make You Love Me? video reviewmusicdaily.com describing the child/butterfly rebirth; Dawn FM imagery and Phantom Regret by Jim analysis.
- Interviews: Variety interview via Exclaim! (Jan 2025) with Abel Tesfaye on retiring The Weeknd persona exclaim.ca (quote: “It never ends until you end it” and rationale for ending the era); Premier Christianity article on The Weeknd’s faith and Hurry Up Tomorrow themes premierchristianity.com premierchristianity.com; Emory Wheel review of Hurry Up Tomorrow detailing religious imagery in lyrics emorywheel.comemorywheel.com.
- Jungian Commentary: Salomé Institute blog on the core message of The Red Book salomeinstitute.com salomeinstitute.com; symbolreader.net analysis of Liber Secundus (the Red One encounter) symbolreader.net. These provide context for Jung’s quotes and help draw connections to The Weeknd’s narrative.