(Columbia)
The music on Styles’s new album is muted, subtle and pleasant – but from the title downwards, he has a real problem with words
E
verything about the launch of Harry Styles’s fourth solo album underlines that its author is a very big deal indeed. Record stores in the UK are opening at midnight or first thing in the morning on the day of release, the better for fans to avail themselves of a copy at once. Styles has been announced as curator of this year’s Meltdown festival at London’s Southbank Centre, an honour previously bestowed on Scott Walker, Patti Smith, Yoko Ono, Ornette Coleman and David Bowie. Last week’s Brit awards featured not merely a beautifully choreographed performance of the album’s lead single, Aperture, but a comedy skit that was, essentially, a two-and-a-half-minute-long advert for Styles’s new album: there was no doubt who the organisers thought the star of the show was. Most striking of all, the accompanying tour largely eschews actual touring in favour of lengthy residencies in one venue per country, or even continent: North America is covered by a staggering 30 dates at New York’s Madison Square Garden. The expectation seemed to be that Styles’s fans are so devoted, they’ll cross the country to see him, rather than vice versa.
