MUSIC

Let's Not Overcomplicate Harry Styles' New Album, "Fine Line"

Fine Line isn't a creative reinvention of the wheel, but it's still a lot of fun

LOS ANGELES, CA. November 01, 2022: Harry Styles at the premiere for "My Policeman" at the Regency Bruin Theatre.

Photo by: Paul Smith-FeatureflashBy Featureflash Photo Agency / Shutterstock

Harry Styles has been on everyone's mind all 2019.

Harry Styles - Adore You (Official Video)www.youtube.com

The years have not been kind to a few of the One Directioners, but Styles has all but reinvented himself. He is now cool and collected, like a 2013 Alex Turner or Matty Healy, and as stylish as a millennial Elton John, all combined with the neighborhood quirkiness of the boy next door. "It all just comes down to I'm having more fun, I guess," he recently told Rolling Stone. His personal growth in the last two years has culminated in Fine Line, a joyful and colorful psychedelic pop record that respectfully dips its toes into the pop-sensibilities of its elders, without jeopardizing the youthful swagger of its young host.

As a handsome LGBTQ+ icon, Styles embodies what everyone hopes will happen when you embrace your identity. You'll get all tatted up, develop a colorful fashion sense, and become magnanimous towards your former self. "Step into the light," he begs his listeners as he flails among gorgeous naked bodies in the "Lights Up," music video. "Know who you are."

Fine Line is not the genre-redefining outing critics anticipated, but it is, as Styles said, incredibly fun. Its inspirations are portrayed quite literally, which certain critics take issue with. "She" is an obvious ode to Prince and Pink Floyd, with its soulful crooning and crisp rock edges; and the gentle folk pining of "Canyon Moon" is reminiscent of a young Joni Mitchell. It's all palpable and easily digestible. Fine Line isn't a creative reinvention of the wheel; songs like "To Be Lonely" and "Treat People With Kindness" feel stagnant and falter when compared to the shapeshifting tracks of "Golden" or "Sunflower, Vol. 6"; but it's all part of the process. Styles is 25 and spent his childhood as a teenage heartthrob whose identity was staked in album sales and how cute he was. As many 25-year-olds before him, Styles has learned to gravitate towards authenticity and is seen on Fine Line openly examining a wide range of styles and sounds, waiting to see which shoe fits.

On "Lights Up" and "Adore You," the shoe fits perfectly, but critics were quick to point out the fumbles. "Styles is here, buried underneath the fame and the fear," wrote Pitchfork. "I hear his sweetness, his charm...but mostly I hear a guy who's still afraid he'll never make a David Bowie record." Styles is still a 25-year-old, an amateur at living life. Is he not allowed to experiment with different directions amidst his new-found independence? Or have the short attention spans of the general public–and excessive demand for quality content–perforated the very real and grueling artistic process that is required to generate said content? Styles' sophomore album is not his magnum opus, but why are we saying it has to be? Is that his problem, or ours?

CULTURE

Is It Just Me, or Is The Hollywood Reporter's BTS Article Really Xenophobic?

The piece reads as a smug, condescending view of Korean culture through a patently white, Western lens.

Jordan Strauss/AP/Shutterstock

This morning, The Hollywood Reporter released their much-hyped BTS feature story written by Seth Abramovitch, a senior writer who flew out to South Korea to interview the band.

Trigger Warning: Su*c*de

But while an in-person profile on the world's most popular musical group sounds like a surefire hit, upon reading the article I couldn't help but feel that THR pushed a highly problematic, xenophobic view of South Korea and the K-POP industry as a whole.

Now, upfront, I want to give Abramovitch the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he set out to write anything intentionally malicious. But at the same time, his article bleeds Western superiority and invokes a sense of "otherness" in discussing Korea that struck me as ridiculously misguided. The fact that those sentiments were likely subconscious makes them all the more worthy of discussion.

Throughout his piece, Abramovitch alternates between being an ill-prepared outsider ("I admit to being a little fuzzy on some of the finer points of BTS history, like where they came from, why they are so appealing to so many millions or even what BTS stands for") and a biting social critic ("Since its origins in the 1990s, K-pop has been part Motown, part Hunger Games.") The resulting piece reads as a smug, condescending view of Korean culture through a patently white, Western lens.

This is the first line of the BTS article: "The restaurant is called Dotgogi, which means either Sesame Meat or Aged Pork, depending on which online translator I consult." In a profile piece, the first sentence sets the mood. Here, Abramovitch opens with the "otherness" of a Korean word and the possibility of two different translations. This feels like lazy shorthand to convey an implicitly xenophobic sentiment about being in a strange land unlike his own (his being the Western world, where everything is "normal").

Abramovitch goes on to introduce BTS as "the first group since The Beatles...to score three No. 1 albums on the Billboard 200 chart in less than a year," before tacking on, "a feat that's all the more astounding considering their songs are mostly in Korean." Again, this strikes me as off-putting. We live in a global society where most people have access to media from all around the world. Nobody bats an eye when a song with Spanish lyrics tops the charts or a LatinX performer enters the public eye. What exactly makes it so much more astounding when the group in question is Asian?

Abramovitch continues to paint the BTS boys as simultaneously affable and fake. He suggests that everyone is carefree and open ("You'd think they were just seven college buddies catching up over a meal") but only up until he starts asking pressing questions about politics. "Indeed, whenever the conversation turns to anything controversial — or just slightly provocative — their answers have all the spontaneity of a Disney animatronic figure," writes Abramovitch. "For instance, when asked if they have any reservations about resuming their tour in America during such a politically fraught period, a switch seems to flip in RM's brain."

This language, again, seems to draw upon racist, xenophobic sentiments about Asians as robots, when, in fact, a lot of Western artists would likely answer politically fraught questions in the same way. That's not being dishonest, and it's not because they live "in a bubble," as Abramovitch writes. It's because many artists with wide global appeal like BTS see their primary job as bringing joy to fans, and alienating any of them, even the ones they may personally disagree with, is not in line with their ethos as performers.

Once again, my goal here isn't to nitpick the writing, but rather to point out how these biases, while probably subconscious, negatively inform the piece as a whole. Throughout the piece, Abramovitch's goal seems less about understanding BTS and their feelings on any particular topic and more about placing them within the context of a Korean industry that Abramovitch sees as problematic.

In fairness, there are a number of issues in the K-POP industry, especially in regards to the way that some companies treat their performers. But at the same time, plenty of Western music labels mistreat their performers, too, and it feels weird to see a white, Western writer paint it as a distinctly Korean issue. The abuse of artists by major companies is an issue well-worth discussing, but the conversation should always include the context of capitalist structures everywhere that seem to incentivize said abuse.

Moreover, in his attempt to explain the evils of the K-POP industry, Abramovitch passively dredges up the death of Jonghyun, a beloved K-POP star from the group SHINee who lost his battle with depression in 2017. Here, Abramovitch writes especially tactlessly, not even referring to Jonghyun by name. "In 2017, the industry drew intense scrutiny after a member of SHINee...took his own life," he writes before excerpting Jonghyun's final note. This feels incredibly disrespectful, especially in light of how the media tends to treat beloved Western artists who've lost similar battles to depression. It would be unimaginable to read an article that referenced beloved comedy icon Robin Williams, who brought joy to so many lives, only as "a movie actor who took his own life." Why, then, is it okay to treat a beloved K-POP star like Jonghyun that way?

In effect, the THR article ignores Jonghyun's personhood and legacy as a wonderful singer, songwriter, dancer, and human being, instead footnoting a tragedy that deeply affected many people just to fit into an argument that doesn't even necessarily hold up. In fact, while Jonghyun's passing did lead to discussions in South Korea about relieving the pressures of the competitive nature of the K-POP industry, it primarily drew attention to the need for mental health awareness, with Jonghyun's family starting a foundation to help support artists struggling with depression. Many people suffer from depression, and blaming someone's lost battle on any one thing seems, at best, to misunderstand the complexity of mental health issues. More importantly, relegating a human being only to their untimely passing without even mentioning their name seems particularly callous. Jonghyun's family, friends, fans, and loved ones deserve better.

Ultimately, the biggest problem with Abramovitch's article is one of representation. Why would THR send a middle-aged, white writer like Abramovitch, who seems to express something akin to pride in his own lack of understanding of Korean culture, to write about Korean culture? Why did they think anyone needed yet another "middle-aged white guy flounders to understand K-POP" take? That's not even to say they shouldn't have sent a middle-aged white writer, but at least send someone who seems to display an interest in researching the culture beforehand. Instead, at best, this BTS profile reads like a xenophobic "othering" of Korean celebrities. At worst, it's just blatant disrespect.

MUSIC

Louis Tomlinson Wants to Be in Oasis So Bad

"Kill My Mind" is an Oasis rip off in the least flattering way.

Louis Tomlinson wants us to know that he's been listening to rock music.

Louis Tomlinson - Kill My Mind (Official Lyric Video)www.youtube.com

In an awkward 2017 profile with The Guardian, the former One Direction member described himself as "forgettable" and endorsed the idea that he was the "lowliest" member of the group, citing the fact that he never had a single vocal solo during his time with the band. "I'm trying to work out why it is that I'm [doing this]," he said, as a few offerings off his upcoming solo album played in the background. So he did what any uninspired artist would do: he went back to his "roots" and listened to the music he grew up with. "I grew up loving bands," Tomlinson told MTV. "Because I'm from the north of England naturally everyone's obsessed with Oasis and Arctic Monkeys." Consequently, Tomlinson's new single, "Kill My Mind," sounds like a mediocre tribute to early aughts British rock.

"Kill My Mind" is melodically reminiscent of a 2006 Arctic Monkeys B-side, while lyrics like, "kept me living from the last time, from a prison of a past life," attempt to carry the metaphorical significance of an Oasis record, but mostly just don't make any sense. Tomlinson's attempt at a low nasally growl when he sings, "and you hate me, and I want more," just sounds like Liam Gallagher mimicry. Thematically, Tomlinson's wish-washy narrative makes it sound like he's trying to appear more prolific and rock-and-roll-esque than he actually is. Even the lyric video shows a cartoon Tomlinson directly copying the outfit and stance of Liam Gallagher during an Oasis performance. All of it feels fraudulent, none of it is compelling, and all of it suggests Tomlinson would rather be a third Gallagher brother than himself.