How ‘Mood Music’ Became a Cultural Earthquake
Ten years after its release, The Weeknd’s The Hills remains as raw and unfiltered as it sounded the first time it shook car speakers and festival stages.
This wasn’t a song about secrets. It was the secret. And in 2015, when Abel Tesfaye found himself in a pressure cooker of fame, guilt, and indulgence, this was the track that refused to pretend it didn’t all come with a price.
“@theweeknd: MOOD MUSIC = THE HILLS”
— La Mar C Taylor (@lamarXO) May 22, 2015
Originally titled Mood Music, the song made its first appearance at SXSW and was quickly bootlegged on SoundCloud, where it gained a cult following before it ever hit the charts.
In an interview with Variety, The Weeknd later admitted, “There are 67 versions of ‘The Hills’… I lost my mind making that record because there are noises in the [SoundCloud] version that I tried to replicate in the studio.”
The final version included one of those key elements: a blood-curdling scream right before the hook.
The scream wasn’t there at first. But Tesfaye added it anyway. Because the audience had already decided that moment belonged in the track.
Tesfaye was determined to recapture that rawness—even if it meant faking what was once real.
What Is the Meaning Behind ‘The Hills’ by The Weeknd?
At its most stripped-down, The Hills is about a secret relationship—and everything that unravels around it.
The Weeknd isn’t singing about love, but rather about lust entangled with guilt, control, and public exposure.
He portrays himself as detached and dependent in equal measure. The recurring lines, the late-night calls, and the references to being his ‘real self’ only when intoxicated all suggest he’s clinging to this encounter not because it brings him peace, but because it reflects the chaos he’s come to rely on.
The woman in the song isn’t painted as innocent either. She tells him to keep things quiet. She sends her friends away.
The affair may be hidden, but it’s not one-sided. And that’s part of the song’s core tension: both parties are participating, and both are pretending it means less than it does.
The Sonic Chaos That Became His Calling Card
Produced by Emmanuel “Million $ Mano” Nickerson and Carlo “Illangelo” Montagnese, The Hills doesn’t sound like it was made in a studio. It sounds like it clawed its way out of one.
From the first note, it’s a carefully constructed descent. You get this distorted, full-blast synth smacking your ears within seconds.
The beat drags like it’s limping out of a back alley, soaked in menace. Then his voice drops in, almost bored. Almost too casual for the mess he’s describing.
“Your man on the road, he doin’ promo / You said, ‘Keep our business on the low-low'”
He sets the scene. Not with drama, but with a shrug. The relationship isn’t romantic; it’s evasive.
A rendezvous planned around someone else’s absence. She’s hiding it. So is he. But the thrill isn’t in being found out. It’s in knowing you probably will be.
The Brutal Honesty of the Chorus
“I only call you when it’s half past five / The only time that I’ll be by your side”
He’s not masking his apathy. He’s flaunting it. That specific time reference hints at the after-hours vibe the song lives in—a space where inhibitions dissolve, and so does the illusion of intimacy.
“When I’m f***ed up, that’s the real me”
It’s less a statement than a surrender. He’s not glorifying addiction. He’s letting it speak for him.
The version of himself that the world sees, the version that smiles and performs and does promo—that one isn’t real. This one is. Slurred, numb, indifferent. Honest, only because it no longer has the strength to lie.
The Second Verse and the Collapse of Connection
“I just f***ed two bitches ‘fore I saw you / You gon’ have to do it at my tempo”
This is not a love song. It isn’t even a lust song. It’s a power play. If you’re still holding onto the idea of romantic tension, this verse stomps on it. Even his drug use is delivered flatly:
“Drugs started feelin’ like it’s decaf”
He’s not chasing a high. He’s reminding us it barely works anymore.
The Hills Have Eyes—and So Does Hollywood
“Hills have eyes, the hills have eyes”
Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes gave the song its final name, but this isn’t about mutants. It’s about surveillance. The Hollywood Hills, specifically. Everyone’s watching. Everyone’s judging.
And The Weeknd, somewhere between anonymous Toronto mixtapes and global superstardom, knows there’s no going back.
Dissecting the Production: Screams, Static, and Slapback Delays
The infamous droning bassline that anchors the track was reportedly sampled from the 2013 British sci-fi thriller The Machine, which even led to a copyright infringement lawsuit.
That detail only adds to the track’s Frankenstein-like structure: part horror score, part hedonistic anthem.
The production, while chaotic on the surface, is obsessed with atmosphere. A scream that sounds less like fandom and more like trauma. A bass that hits too hard, on purpose.
Vocal distortions that feel like a confession made underwater. The synth in the right ear moves in pitch like someone screaming—intentionally eerie, yet addictive.
The Music Video and Visual Metaphor
As of May 28, 2025, the official music video for The Hills has racked up 2,199,470,240 views on YouTube—a staggering number that reflects its cultural weight as much as its replay value.
Directed by Grant Singer, the official music video for The Hills opens with a disoriented Weeknd crawling from a flipped Lincoln Town Car, helping two women escape the wreckage.
It’s not clear what caused the crash—but that’s the point. The video doesn’t spell out a storyline—it moves like a fever dream, full of suggestion and instability.
Much like the song, it drags you into chaos and leaves you there. As Tesfaye walks down South June Street in Los Angeles, dazed and limping, the car explodes behind him.
One of the women pushes him, repeatedly, as if to say: this is your fault, and you’re not walking away from it clean.
Eventually, he enters a red-lit mansion and ascends the stairs toward a man (played by Rick Wilder) holding an apple.
It’s a blunt, nearly biblical image. The snake isn’t in the frame, but temptation and consequence are.
Wilder’s presence ties the video to The Weeknd’s other visual narratives—he also appeared in Can’t Feel My Face and Tell Your Friends—creating a web of meaning between excess, image, and inner collapse.
The surrealism goes one level deeper in the VR music video for the Eminem remix, made in collaboration with GoPro and United Realities.
The viewer floats through comets and exploding debris as Tesfaye walks toward a limousine—driven by John Travolta, a nod to a 2015 Apple Music campaign—before being consumed by flames.
It’s not just style for style’s sake; it visualises his self-destruction with a chilling detachment.
The Chart-Topping Aftershock
And for a song this sinister, its chart success was surreal. On October 3, 2015, The Hills knocked off The Weeknd’s own Can’t Feel My Face from the #1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100.
It held that position for six weeks. Not bad for a track that opens like a slow crash.
He even gave it two official remixes: one with Eminem, whose Slim Shady persona fit the track’s nihilism like a glove, and one with Nicki Minaj, whose raunchy verse echoed the song’s twisted sensuality.
He performed one version live with Nicki on Saturday Night Live on the same day the remixes were released: October 10, 2015.
Why ‘The Hills’ Still Haunts a Decade Later
But the numbers, the remixes, the accolades—none of that really explains why the song still cuts.
Its staying power comes from being one of the few pop hits that never bothered to sell the illusion. It wasn’t cleaned up for mass appeal. It offered no comfort.
It only told you what it felt like to be falling and to enjoy it, just enough to forget how far the ground is.
And ten years later, it still sounds like something you weren’t meant to hear.
Related Reads:
- Unravelling Call Out My Name by The Weeknd: A Lyrical Journey Through Heartbreak
- Inside ‘Starboy’: The Weeknd’s Dark Dance with Fame, Faith, and Futility
- The Weeknd’s Cry For Me Lyrics Explained: Heartache, Fame, and Emotional Isolation
- The Weeknd & Lana Del Rey’s The Abyss Breakdown: A Love Song on the Edge
The Hills Lyrics by The Weeknd
Intro
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Verse 1
Your man on the road, he doin’ promo
You said, “Keep our business on the low-low”
I’m just tryna get you out the friend zone
‘Cause you look even better than the photos
I can’t find your house, send me the info
Drivin’ through the gated residential
Found out I was comin’, sent your friends home
Keep on tryna hide it, but your friends know
Chorus
I only call you when it’s half-past five
The only time that I’ll be by your side
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, yeah
I only call you when it’s half-past five
The only time I’d ever call you mine
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, babe
Verse 2
I’ma let you know and keep it simple
Tryna keep it up don’t seem so simple
I just fucked two bitches ‘fore I saw you
And you gon’ have to do it at my tempo
Always tryna send me off to rehab
Drugs started feelin’ like it’s decaf
I’m just tryna live life for the moment
And all these motherfuckers want a relapse
Chorus
I only call you when it’s half-past five
The only time that I’ll be by your side
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, yeah
I only call you when it’s half-past five
The only time I’d ever call you mine
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, babe
Bridge
Hills have eyes, the hills have eyes
Who are you to judge? Who are you to judge?
Hide your lies, girl, hide your lies (Hide your lies, oh, baby)
Only you to trust, only you
Chorus
I only call you when it’s half-past five
The only time that I’ll be by your side
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, yeah
I only call you when it’s half-past five
The only time I’d ever call you mine
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me
When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, babe
Outro
Ewedihalehu
Yene konjo, ewedihalehu
Yene fikir, fikir, fikir, fikir
Yene fikir, fikir, fikir, fikir
Ewedihalehu
Yene konjo, ewedihalehu…
