Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck Harry Styles. I’d fuck him hard. I’d fuck his voice. His voice is sultry and rough, how I’d like the sex to be. (And I’ve been a fan of Harry Styles throughout Haylor, so I feel like I have the right to say that.) I preface this article by saying that because I have a few complaints. Recently, Harry Styles posted three white pictures on his Instagram and everyone freaked the fuck out.
Why must he be so pretentious? Why can’t he be like any other celebrity and fall off the face of the earth in between albums and then come back to relevance when his new music is leaked on Tumblr? Also, why do these damn white pictures have a combined 2,353,002 likes? My selfies on Instagram get an average 150 likes. And those have a real human in them! What’s up with that! (I hope you read the last sentence in a Jerry Seinfeld voice.)
My next and bigger complaint is that Harry Styles’ single, “Sign of the Times.” I’m going to be real, I’m not a huge fan. Arts Editor of The Miscellany News Patrick Tanella said, and I quote, “You’re blacklisted” because of this opinion. But I will not be shut down. First of all, the song is five minutes and 42 seconds of the same lyrics over and over again. In my opinion, unless a song is getting crazy with key changes and surprise verses from Nicki, there is no reason it needs to five minutes. That’s longer than the national anthem for goodness sake, stop being extra Harry Styles. Did I mention the lyrics repeat again and again? You’re not my therapist, Harry, stop telling me to stop crying. That, and of course, asking us why we’re running from the bullets. You’re a British celebrity who dresses like a pirate, what could you possibly know about bullets? Also, just a good rule of thumb, but if there are bullets, you run from them. You don’t question it.
My next complaint is not about the song itself, which I recognize may seem like a cheap shot… because it is a cheap shot. I’m petty, y’all. It’s about the cover art of the single. For those unfamiliar, the cover art includes a figure, presumably Styles, wading out into water with an ominous red sky. I’m a bit put off by the art for a few reasons. First of all, because Harry’s back doesn’t look realistic. Come on, Columbia Records, stop the embellishing; Harry’s shoulders are not that broad. Perhaps they would be if he were wearing football padding.
Basically though, what my complaints boil down to, is this isn’t the Harry Styles I signed up for. From the mysterious cover art to the bewildering lyrics, there are levels of nuance in every aspect of Styles’ music. There is something to be deciphered and something distant about the work. That’s not why I got on the Harry Styles rollercoaster. When Harry was in One Direction, he had a clearly defined brand. He wore bow ties, sang about love and said things in his stupid British accent. He was predictable. That’s all I needed. I was okay with him being in Pulitzer Prize winning Tiger Beat and getting a million weird tattoos because it was endearing.
Now he’s just brooding and angsty and kinda greasy. If I needed that I would date any theatre major at Vassar. Or myself. Some argue that this is how he always was, and if that’s the case then I feel misled. As a teenager I barely knew how to function around boys, how was 14-year-old me supposed to know what was hiding underneath the surface of his luxurious curls?
As I sit in the Misc Office now, I listen to “Sign of the Times.” (I am greatly outnumbered among other members of the editorial board who love this trash song.) And the more I listen to it, the more I actually like it… I must attempt to resist… dammit. In spite of the pretentiousness, I can’t resist Harry Styles’ voice. And his hair. And his face. And his body. Fuck. Fine. In any other review I would try to be less biased but I honestly don’t care that much. I give it three and half stars.