Have you read the Ringer’s review of Coachella? They really lay into Harry’s performance calling it “the KIDZ BOP version of the Almost Famous soundtrack.” It’s interesting how divisive music critics tend to be about Harry as an artist. Either they proclaim him the new David Bowie or they consider him a cover singer who is merely imitating the greats.
This was such a good article? Like wow. Really loved the whole analysis of what Coachella sprung from and how it's changed over time and become well...
Loved the whole section, and it's probably the most insightful thing anyone has ever written about him (go read the whole article):
This is a long way to explain how Coachella went from having Rage Against the Machine as its first headliner into having the Machine be its latest. Let’s be unequivocally clear: Harry Styles seems like a nice lad. His politics are saint simple; he believes in peace, love, equality, and every other utopian notion nearly impossible to eradicate in a world riven by cruelty, avarice, duplicity, and all the other defects hexing the human genome. His motto is “TPWK” (treat people with kindness), which is all well and good when you’re worth an estimated $80 million and dating Ted Lasso’s ex. Stevie Nicks likes him. According to his Wikipedia, he believes in karma. He does pilates and meditates. He’s a pescatarian. He endorsed Joe Biden.
But Styles’s set at Coachella revealed an artist out of his depth. If Beyoncé proved to even inveterate skeptics that a pop act headlining Coachella could supply something as imaginative and visionary as any rapper, DJ, or guitar apostle, Styles doubled as a wicker man for the retro-fried fetishization that has defined the past decade. If he was cast in a West End production of Aladdin Sane: The Musical!, there would be no cause for complaint. But closing out Friday night, the lingering shadow of all immortal predecessors loomed. Roger Waters played Dark Side of the Moon atop the same soil where Harry Styles kicked a KIDZ BOP version of the Almost Famous soundtrack.
The idea is that the former One Direction singer is the Justin Timberlake of his generation: a product who shed his boy-band assembly line past to mature into an artist capable of selling Pepsi on his own merits. The problem is that he’s closer to Robbie Williams from Take That or Donny Osmond, references surely lost on 99 percent of the relatively paltry, mostly under-25 crowd who gathered on the former polo field to listen to Styles’s set.
Harry Styles is an archetypal artist for the late capitalist drain spiral of ambient streaming and social media thirst: simply far too big and slickly packaged to fail. He rose to fame on a reality show, was coached by Simon Cowell, and made brain-fry famous as one-fifth of a boy band whose distinguishing characteristic was loving both kinds of music: boomer rock and pop. They finished in third place on the reality show, but ended up selling millions. Since he went solo he’s been managed by the son of the most powerful man in the music industry, represented by the world’s most powerful talent agency, and signed to a label owned by a multinational conglomerate that made $11 billion in net income during the first year of the pandemic.
As a child, Styles learned to make music by singing karaoke covers, and never learned how to stop. There is no such thing as a Harry Styles song. There are Hall & Oates songs, David Bowie songs, Pink Floyd songs, Elton John songs, Queen songs, and Fleetwood Mac songs, which Harry Styles and his producers and songwriters rejigger into new alignments like a Web3 reboot of Glam Rock Scrabble.
To his credit, Styles made a valiant effort. Wearing a sequin harem outfit that looked made out of a souvenir disco ball from Studio 54, the former One Directionist skipped across the stage, shimmied, and hoisted his microphone to the heavens. He had the moves down as if he’d purchased hundreds of music documentaries on Amazon Prime (and maybe even a few Blu-rays that aren’t available on streaming). He blew kisses to the crowd, cheerfully plinked at a guitar, and holistically indicted boyfriends. He told us that our only job was to have as much fun as possible, and to be whoever we were. But it’s unclear if he even knew what that meant for himself. Over a belabored piano vamp, he bellowed “WOOOMAAAAN,” somewhere between Mike Myers’s beatnik poetry in So I Married an Axe Murderer and Russell Brand’s Jeffrey-puffing rock goofball from Get Him to the Greek. He finished with a song called “Sign of the Times,” which was somehow not a Prince cover. It sounded created for a Disney biopic about Rod Stewart, which has yet to be cast.
'There is no such thing as a Harry Styles song' - precisely! I'm glad someone found a way to voice something I've been thinking but couldn't quite articulate.
Loved that they pointed out (entirely correctly) that he's a highly manufactured product. (All of the subtle digs at his politics in the first paragraph...oof).
And it is indeed depressing that Coachella went from Rage Against the Machine to...
Loved the section too about how the ideology has become 'all popular things must be good because they are popular' and the bit that pointed out that journalists are no longer comfortable giving honest reviews because stans are incapable of critical thinking and love to harass them.
It's hard to know why there's such a split between journalists who love him and journalists who don't. I suspect some of it might be that a lot of the journalists who don't love him often seem really, really well versed in a lot of his musical influences and can see them from a mile away and find him gimmicky, whilst some of the journalists who love him might come from a more traditional pop writing background (and sometimes be younger) and not see it as clearly. It's really interesting that a lot of his younger fans cannot identify the influences in his songs or their derivative quality because they've never heard the artists he's trying to be. I think a lot of the journalists who see him as gimmicky are often rock or indie music leaning writers who know that body of work, and a lot of the writers who are maybe more up his ass are pop writers and might find Harry more 'innovative' or nostalgic in a way that some people don't enjoy or think is innovative.
Ultimately I think the author of the article isn’t wrong in essentially saying that Harry is a mass made product designed to be retero karaoke that is highly consumable and buyable and not at all original.
















