Harry Styles has organized his newest studio album Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. like one might organize a slow-burn romance novel: beginning with a trudge, getting into its best rhythm a little over halfway through, and coming to a close with a satisfied sigh.
The forty-two minute album delights in its sound, letting the dreamlike and sedated “Aperture” stand as an opening track rather than a crowd-mover like “Are You Listening Yet?” The first two minutes of “American Girls” are careful to step where “Aperture” has already made footprints, with Styles’ lyrics bursting through the haze in the chorus —
I’ve known you for ages! It’s all that I’ve heard.
My friends are in love with American girls.
— then sinking back into the meandering soup of the verses. Only in its last minute does the backing track cut through its misty haze by pulling in a slicing, robotic synth for the final chorus.
These opening minutes can thus be likened to the sensation of submerging one’s brain in a bucket of jello and letting it rest there until it is eventually retrieved by the bassline of the third track. That retrieval is subsequently electric.
“Ready, Steady, Go!” is the epitome of the dance between calm and storm, capturing the feeling of dangerous, flirtatious anticipation. The intro’s pulsing groove breaks the listener out of their haze in time to hear the anxious tapping of fingertips woven into the vamp.
An acoustic guitar steps into the spotlight during the prechorus, and the bass falls away. Styles’ vocals come dancing over this light sound. Then, after only four lines, a blinking, descending synth cascades down the repetition of the same lyrics, which suddenly sound threatening, as if the ground has fallen away and the listener is tumbling down.
That guitar appears only once more, during Styles’ sickly sweet “Pronti, quasi, vai,” pulling the listener above water for a breath before pushing them back into a spinning dive. This song is a Mad Hatter’s rabbit hole.
The most addictive track is indisputably “Pop,” which lives up to its name with its snappy drums and short-lined verses. Again taking advantage of the intimidation of a rhythm section, Styles seems to be pleading as the chorus rushes past, the whole backing track fighting to be heard over him. Late in the chorus, Styles sings “I wanted to behave,” where the word “behave” is bisected by the movement of the bassline, distorting it almost beyond recognition. Styles again masterfully latches onto impulsive drama. This album’s portrayal of recklessness is excellent.
The album has another shining jewel in “Coming Up Roses.” The soft piano and strings take the listener on a slow, heartbreaking waltz. Styles asks for one more night with somebody and simultaneously beats himself up for missing the moment. He comes across as endearing in this bittersweet goodbye:
Just for tonight, let’s go hangover chasing,
and I’ll talk your ear off about why it’s safe
as I fumble my words and fall flat on my face
through the truth.
The greatest strength of Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. is Styles’ ear for balance — he keeps his lyrics vague enough to be poetic, and his sound stimulating enough to be emotional. Thus he succeeds again in charming his audience of young romantics who want to yearn.
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