‘After Hours til Dawn’: The Weeknd shatters records and expectations at Levi’s Stadium
On July 8, The Weeknd kicked off his two-night Bay Area stint of his “After Hours til Dawn” tour at Levi’s Stadium — and gathered a crowd that proved just how deep his influence runs. I’ve always known Abel Tesfaye (The Weeknd’s full name) to be a global star. He’s headlined Coachella, won Grammys, amassed billions of streams and currently has over 110 million monthly listeners on Spotify. But what I saw in Santa Clara redefined what that success looks and sounds like in real time.
Levi’s wasn’t just filled with casual fans — it was filled with people who knew every lyric, every transition, every vocal riff. The outfits alone told a story: black, silver and dark red (colors often utilized in Tesfaye’s artistry) dominated the crowd, a quiet unison that I hadn’t expected but couldn’t stop noticing. The dress code was nonexistent — yet somehow, everyone knew it.
The evening opened with renowned record producer Mike Dean, the sonic architect behind some of hip-hop’s most atmospheric albums. Dean brought his signature moody synths and layered soundscapes to Levi’s. That said, overhearing comments from other audience members revealed that many didn’t realize it was a live set until they looked up and saw his name on the backdrop of the stage. At times, his music blended so seamlessly into the ambient noise of the stadium that it felt more like a pre-show score than a performance. Still, once it clicked that it was Dean behind the keys, I gained a newfound appreciation for his art. His set may not have been stadium-shaking, but it did feel cinematic — the kind of music you’d expect to find in a slow-burning sci-fi thriller, not at a stadium with over 60,000 fans still grabbing drinks.
Dean was followed by renowned rapper Playboi Carti (Jordan Carter), who — despite the hype surrounding him — left the audience a bit flat. His 25-minute set included just six songs, and his energy felt uneven. “FE!N” sparked some excitement, but with the stadium not yet full, the reaction was more of a simmer than an eruption. Featuring his signature distorted vocals and guttural delivery, “Sky” and “EVIL J0RDAN” gave fans something to latch onto. But Carter’s actual on-stage presence felt surprisingly muted — especially compared to his hype crew and emcees, who not only seemed to be having far more fun than him, but commanded more attention. At one point, Carter’s emcee proclaimed that he was the “No. 1 artist in the world,” a line that struck me as ironic, given he wasn’t the night’s headliner. Carter’s choice to play “Timeless” (a song made with The Weeknd) without The Weeknd himself caught a few fans off guard, though it paid off later when Carter returned during the main set to perform it properly with Tesfaye.
Mike Dean and Playboy Carti were smart choices for the lineup, at least on paper, but in execution, the energy of their sets just didn’t land. Whether it was a matter of short runtime, lack of crowd connection or simply less crossover between Carter, Dean and Tesfaye’s fanbases than expected, the openers never quite reached liftoff.
When The Weeknd finally appeared, everything shifted. Emerging masked from beneath a dystopian golden skyline backdrop — complete with crumbling city towers, rotating statues and crimson-clad dancers — Tesfaye set the tone instantly. The production was theatrical yet restrained, allowing sound and emotion to take center stage. And then, just a few songs in, the mask came off. The crowd went wild. With one slow, deliberate reveal, Tesfaye turned a quiet build-up into a cinematic moment of transformation.
And from there, the set truly took flight.
What surprised me most wasn’t the scale or the visuals, but how much better every song sounded live. Tesfaye’s vocals, which are already pristine on record, somehow reached new heights on stage. “Take My Breath” hit harder, leaner, brighter. “Can’t Feel My Face” felt less like a dance hit and more like a stadium command, with Tesfaye skipping down the runway toward the B-stage, lit by a sea of LED wristbands. “I Feel It Coming” and “Save Your Tears” reminded everyone of just how well he controls a falsetto. He doesn’t just hit notes — he floats between them with precision.
“Cry For Me,” one of Tesfaye’s deep cuts, quickly transformed into a highlight at Levi’s, standing out for its raw emotional pull.
“Would you cry for me, Bay Area?” he asked, drawing thousands into a chorus that doubled as a question and a demand. You could feel it — the tension, the sincerity, the connection. That moment bled into “Die For You,” which became a full-stadium singalong, with Tesfaye conducting the crowd as if he were leading a 60,000-person choir.
The set wasn’t without its pacing dips — especially during some of the newer, less radio-driven songs. But for fans who’ve followed Tesfaye beyond the singles, those valleys felt more like chapters in a longform story than lulls in energy, giving the audience space to breathe. For a die-hard fan, the runtime was likely perfect — or even too short. But for casual listeners, some moments may have felt like dead zones, especially during songs that didn’t chart as highly or get mainstream play.
Still, the die-hards — and there were many — hung on every note, singing along with a devotion that surprised me. There was a loyalty in the air that went far beyond typical fandom — a sense that this wasn’t just entertainment, but a gathering of people connected by the music that had seen them through their highest highs and lowest lows.
“Starboy” roared to life with strobes and smoke. “Sao Paulo” turned the floor into a bouncing wave of bodies. And “Blinding Lights” — already crowned the No. 1 song of the 21st century by Billboard and officially the most streamed track in Spotify history — arrived with a twist. Rather than leaning on its signature synth line, Tesfaye sang the instrumental hook himself, building tension with each measure before erupting into the chorus. It was unexpected and theatrical, the kind of flourish that reminds you he’s not just a singer, but a performer.
The production struck a balance between minimalist and maximalist. While the staging itself remained relatively clean (futuristic ruins split by a long runway) Tesfaye and his team used bursts of fire, lasers and well-timed fireworks to amplify the show’s emotional peaks. The finale, “Moth to a Flame,” delivered a final blast of visual drama: flames leaping skyward, fireworks lighting up the Bay and Tesfaye’s voice — echoing, plaintive, powerful — bringing the night to a close.
Throughout it all, Tesfaye acknowledged where he was, calling out “San Francisco, Oakland, San Jose, Berkeley” like a Bay Area love letter. The crowd roared back every time. That sense of mutual recognition gave the night an added weight, as if he wasn’t just performing for the crowd, but with it.
And make no mistake: This wasn’t just any big headliner concert — it was a historic one. With over 60,000 fans in attendance, Tesfaye officially became the highest-grossing male solo artist in Levi’s Stadium history. It’s a title that speaks to more than just ticket sales. It speaks to scale, to reach, to resonance.
Rumors have floated that this might be Tesfaye’s final tour in its current form — he recently hinted at an artistic rebirth (and the potential retirement of his stage name). If that’s true, he made sure to leave it all on the stage. If it’s not, then what he brought to Santa Clara — a night of vulnerability, spectacle and near-perfect execution — is proof that The Weeknd’s reign isn’t close to finished. For the sake of his die-hard fans, and those who appreciate powerful, beautiful vocals, one can only hope this isn’t the last chance to witness a show like this.
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