In April, he headlined Coachella with a whirl of Mick Jagger–inspired shimmying across a sparse set. Paired with a nonbinary-ish, scarves-and-baubles fashion makeover, this brand reset successfully expanded his appeal. One Direction’s hits entertained with the simplicity and bounce of Sunday cartoons, but Styles’s first two solo albums strove to convey adult sophistication with vintage guitars and psychedelic harmonies. Yet Harry’s House also hints at something modern-a vague cheerfulness that isn’t escapist so much as it is dissociative. Three albums into a solo career, Styles has shown a knack for groovy, rock-inflected sing-alongs that could have come out anytime in the past 50 years. Charisma and preexisting fame explain some of this success, but he has far outrun his charming former bandmates in One Direction. The 28-year-old Styles is one of our era’s most dependable stars, the kind who can book 10 nights at Madison Square Garden. Over multiple listens, another sensation, like faint indigestion, may occur: concern.
Some songs spark the regret of failing to book the ideal dinner reservation. For example, much of Harry Styles’s third album, Harry’s House, imparts the mild joy that one might get from completing a list of chores.
Other music conjures pastel feelings, soft and in-between. So much music exists to provoke bold emotions-ecstasy, amazement, deep blues.