Harry Styles’ fourth studio album – Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally. – released last Friday to a plethora of mixed reviews. Naturally, most big-name critics were quick to claim indifference, saying the album had little substance and felt like a meager attempt at reviving the star’s never-ending popularity. As Shaad D’souza of Pitchfork so aptly said: “The fact that, four records in, Styles is now one of the biggest male pop stars in the world seems to be the album’s sole reason for being: It was time for another Harry Styles record.” Styles’ die-hard fans, of course, will say the opposite, claiming the atmospherically dance-heavy album is nothing short of perfection.
But what does the middle-of-the-road fan think? Is it quite as bad as critics, who feed on calloused cruelty and stifle creativity, believe? Or as incredible as a 20-something girl who wears Colourpop $4 strawberry lip gloss (as a reminder of the great 2010s pop era) might say? Let’s dive into Harry Styles’ newest attempt at experimentation and cut through the red tape – perhaps it’s a little of both. And no hate on strawberry lip gloss, though I’m more of a cherry girl myself.
Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally. starts with Aperture, the album’s only single. When I first heard this track a few months ago, I believed this would likely set the tone for the entire record, and much to my disappointment, it did not. The bass thrums, the synth blares. You can feel how it would vibrate your chest in a club setting, the music bellowing, the bright strobe lights making you sweat. It encapsulates the Disco, Occasionally, dance-oriented vibe that the album’s title evokes, while the lyrics tell the listener of acceptance and love, a chorus that can easily be screamed amidst the crowds in a dance hall. We start off strong with Aperture, then quickly feel the standards lowered.
American Girls slows the pace and shows the listener the loneliness that Styles feels. It seems like an attempt at introspection – heavy on the vocals, lyrics reflecting his isolation compared to those around him – but it falls flat. The music, too, does not seem as layered, and instead of it being a metaphor for the barrenness of solitude, it seems empty, as if he thought that was all that was needed, nothing more. It feels as if there’s a deeper statement to be made, but he is unsure how to make it: instead opting to repeat the chorus to himself until it rings true.
Ready, Steady, Go! Is bass heavy and the sound evolves repeatedly in its 2:40 runtime. This song didn’t stick out to me on the first listen, but I will admit that it’s grown on me – instead of those repeated choruses feeling lazy, this feels more intentional, emphasizing the fast-paced life he’s living. However, the attempt at experimentation in sound still falls flat – it’s disjointed, the acoustic moments do not fit with the rest of the track. It feels as if he went with the first instrumental that screamed “this is different!” rather than embracing the hyperpop sound that it originally carried.
Next, we have Are You Listening Yet?, and I have to be honest – I think this is the worst track on the album. The spoken word in the beginning immediately took me out of it. I legitimately had to take a few minutes to reacclimate myself into the listening experience. Here, again, his attempts at introspection feel surface-level and disguised by a cacophony of meaningless sound. What does the instrumentation make us feel, or is it simply there to check off the box of what a song should be? The lyrics are akin a middle-schooler’s attempt at being deep by brooding in the corner during recess – “Between your head and heart and somewhere else instead / Oh, can you hear the voice, the one inside your head?” I don’t think every song needs lyrical nuance to be emotionally impactful, but this track feels especially devoid of any personal touch, despite its best efforts to pluck on the listener’s heartstrings.
The record improves with Taste Back, another song with heavy bass, an interesting array of synth and snare that gives it more merit than its forefathers. Other than Aperture, this is the highest point of the first half of the album. It’s traditional pop! There’s nothing wrong with that.
Waiting Game follows up, feeling like an attempt at mimicking The 1975 instrumentally, which I can appreciate. This is another one I liked more upon second listen, though I still don’t see it as a shining light on the entire record. Waiting Game sits right in the middle in his songwriting abilities– not extraordinarily one-dimensional, but absolutely lacking any intensity that would make it profound. There’s a common thread between all these songs where Styles just can’t find the words for the deeper meaning that he’s so desperately trying to express. I find that fascinating considering he did have some rather thoughtful tracks on his earlier albums – where did the words go? I’m not sure we’re finding them at the disco.
Here comes the second half of the album. Season 2 Weight Loss – despite its title – is a heavier song. The instrumentation immediately reminded me of a poppier Crystal Castles. The synth and drum machine are sharp and tangible, another one you can see feeling in your chest in a club. This track is one of the few successes in experimentation that Styles showcases across the entire album. It’s different, more akin to Aperture, and the lyrical motifs coincide with the actual music in the song. He found the sound he’s been attempting to conjure – but can he keep it for the rest of the record?
The tonal shift to Coming Up Roses is jarring. We go from dance music to a vocal showcase with the sort of vulnerability that Styles has been attempting to deliver. He’s more successful with this track, though I think the stylistic choice to randomly throw in an orchestral ballad was strange and entirely out of place for a record of this nature – if there was ever any flow, it’s certainly ruined with this song. Once again, it seems as if he is trying to take a risk but can’t find the courage to jump in with both feet.
Pop is one I can already foresee being played on the radio nonstop until it’s impossible to listen to anymore, which is a little sad, because I think it’s one of the higher points. The synth is scratchy and intense; his vocals tinted with a bit more desperation and passion. The sound is reminiscent of the music when the DJ wants to play something radio-safe but still a little different.
Dance No More is what I expected more of the album to sound like, since most pre-release reviews called the entire thing “funk influenced.” Apparently, I have a different definition of funk than any music magazine, because this is the only song that’s remotely funky. The bass is twangy and deep, easy to nod your head to, dripping with the sound of the late-70s (unlike the heavily 80s-inspired synth we’ve heard so far). This is a fun song; the groove sets deep into you – absolutely a pop song worth singing along to (and it gets some bonus points for the Simon & Garfunkel reference).
Unlike the pivot from Coming Up Roses, the gentle acoustics in Paint By Numbers offers listeners a breath of fresh air, not a jump scare. The simplicity is nice, and, finally, we can see the emotional side of Harry Styles that has been hidden away behind the superficial dance music that plagues most of the album. Styles discusses the struggles of stardom and the impact of rising to fame so early in life, especially as a heartthrob for so many young kids, namely in the United States. It’s gentle. It’s raw. Ironically, it seems Styles is contemplating the formulaic manner in which creativity is honed in – does “it's a lifetime of learning to paint by numbers” refer to the struggle to find his own words, his own images to paint, rather than the cut-and-dry blueprints of what will surely perform well after release? Could Styles’ lack of depth throughout the record be reflected in this one song?
The record is finished with Carla’s Song, which pairs perfectly with Aperture as the introduction. The fast pace and similar lyrics expressing the idea of letting things in all tie directly into the first track’s themes of openness and acceptance. There’s a heavily repeated chorus in this song, as I recently expressed disdain for, but this chorus holds more purpose instrumentally, so it gets a pass. The synth is bright and impactful – it feels like a cross between something of the 2010s and the 1980s, and the bridge between the two is strong. It’s a good note to the end the album on, lyrically and musically, as one of the better tracks.
All in all, Styles seems to be struggling with figuring out who he is, and Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally. reflects that – but not necessarily in the conventional manner. His apparent identity crisis shows in several shallow, uninspiring songs that are juxtaposed with a few compelling tracks that give a taste of his full potential. I am generally a fan of when artists branch out and experiment, so I can’t hate too much on this record, though I find it far from his best work. As Styles grows in his personal life, I hope to see it further reflected in his music – perhaps one day he will truly find his own sound and move on from the safety of radio play time and pop security. For a middle-of-the-road fan, I can safely say this album has earned the title of “mid.”
Photo credit: Rolling Stone.