#he was such a boyband esque creature

[maxz-b]

licking your glasses and tying your shoes together haha part 39/???

[thosewhocantdomusic-blog]

The Brexit of Boybands: Harry Styles vs. Zayn Malik

By Your Hubadera-Next-Door

“Sign of the Times” was everything we ever wanted and hoped for from a boyband expatriate. It was a Prince reference with the soul of David Bowie and Billy Joel all in one piece of pretty boy art. Harry Styles soared with a Birdman-esque fashion in the song’s music video and so did our expectations of his upcoming work.

Photo from Vevo 

But I guess it was just too good to be true. 

May 12, 2017 was the break of dawn for Directioners. Harry Styles released his much-awaited solo album (predictably) named after himself. You could hear the “oohs” and “aahs” from young girls all over the world as Harry counts under his breath in the beginning of “Meet Me in the Hallway.” Breathy and pregnant with echoes. Okay, not bad. “Give me some morphine.” Okay, cheesy angst, but okay, forgivable. Let’s just skip to “Sign of the Times” where all the clouds part for a melancholy tune of being born into a world of political rifts and street violence. So fucking #woke. 

It all goes downhill with the third song. “Carolina”—a recollection about a girl he met from a state with unimpressive NBA credentials—is a tasteless impostor of a Beatles song. It made John Lennon cringe in his grave. And really, Harry? A girl you only met once? How very Taylor Swift of you. 

If a music producer muted Lady Gaga in one of her New Age country pieces and let Shawn Mendes hog the vocals, you would have “Sweet Creatures” and “Two Ghosts.” “Only Angel” and “Kiwi” are obvious odes to the big names of the late 60’s (The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd) but, like, that’s all they are. While their rock-leaning tendencies do seem to call attention to themselves, the songs fail miserably at being the least bit memorable to the 21st-century audience.

Photo from Rolling Stone

Since it’s common courtesy to finish an album once you’ve started, I moved on to “Ever Since New York.” And how fucking sad. It was just another One Direction song without five other yelping seals in the background. He risks copyright infringement from the exact same blokes he swore he’d leave. Self-referencing, Harry? Vain much? 

But wait! Harry Styles finally gives us something exciting to look forward to with “Woman.” Style-wise, anyway. Its substance, however, sinks straight to the lair of Lucifer. “Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” Barf. Enough of songs about women being “flowers” and “feasts.” Where my #complex bitches at? 

When the last song played, I flinched. Have I mistakenly wandered into a Ben Howard playlist? Are the members of Fleet Foxes his chorale? Or worse: is this The Ransom Collective? *yawns myself to death* 

And so I wondered: if Harry is less of a revolutionary and more of a spineless fraud, do we now pass the crown to Zayn Malik?

ZAYN’s solo album, Mind of Mine, was released a while back in 2016. To be honest, I didn’t bother listening to it at all when it hit the charts. I first heard “PILLOWTALK” the same time the music video came out and I hated it. But that was probably because the mere sight of Gigi Hadid makes me want to jump off a building. All elitist pride aside, I locked myself in my room one day and finally gave his album a listen for the first time. 

My high horse was put to shame. Mind of Mine opens with an eclectic intro and a smooth transition to “PILLOWTALK,” the song responsible for all teenage pregnancies that year. Some things really are better the second time around. He begins with alternative R&B and alternative R&B is definitely what we get. No false promises. 

After “PILLOWTALK,” rainbows start shooting out my ass. You could hear a little bit of R. Kelly in the first few songs, from “iT’s YoU” all the way to “dRuNk.” But “iNTERMISSION: fLoWer” was the most captivating song in the album, with ZAYN paying a tribute to his Bollywood influences juxtaposed with bedroom beats. “rEaR vIeW,” a sleazy song about a sad boy’s romantic manifesto, is what Usher would have sounded like in the late 90’s if he wasn’t so concerned about getting laid with the freakiest girls in the club.

Photo from Vevo

Behind Zayn’s solo flight is the work of talented people in the industry, including R&B producers Malay and Alan Sampson. He featured Kehlani in “wRong,” the R&B duet that “Knock You Down” wanted so bad to be. Beyond the album, Zayn Malik has also worked with pop music connoisseur Jack Antonoff for that famous BDSM joke of a movie and, of course, Taylor Swift. Take that, Harry. 

“fOoL fOr YoU” is a break from the funky production and shines the spotlight on ZAYN’s vocal range that he was always known for. The song is not his best but his voice is definitely worth the mention. But it’s when “TiO” plays that you are suddenly aware of the album’s unabashedly sexual undertones which you might have forgotten because of the album’s utter beauty. 

I think “LIKE I WOULD” is my favorite song in the album. This is when ZAYN bids goodbye to the adolescent foolishness of pining after a girl who doesn’t want him (WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULDN’T????) and accepts in “SHE DON’T LOVE ME” that it doesn’t really matter. There are other chicks in line. And he’s fucking Zayn Malik. 

Mind of Mine is heavily peppered with similar sounds from Zayn’s biggest musical influences. But the difference between Zayn Malik and Harry Styles is that the former doesn’t beat around the bush. Despite the nods towards the likes of Biggie and Tupac, ZAYN’s unique take on contemporary R&B shines through. Mind of Mine had the organic unity, faithfulness to self-expression, and the right amount of mass appeal that cements it as one of this age’s greatest pop/R&B music albums.

This is me admitting to the universe that, yes, Zayn Malik is way ahead of his mates. With a firmer grip on his style and voice, he can go about frolicking with the uglier Hadid sister and I wouldn’t give a shit. Harry Styles, on the other hand, tried so hard to free himself from the chains of Simon Cowell and the rest of the boys but it was too late. The shrilling screams of hormonal teenagers had already poisoned his music. 

The decision is final: Zayn Malik brings home the trophy. 

The New York Times thinks that a mature Harry Styles is deserving of going places in the music scene without his adorable-X-Factor-act turned subpar-boy-band turned masturbatory-content-for-twelve-year-olds. If that’s “maturity,” then I don’t ever want to grow up.