Skip to content
Search

Harry Styles Is Up for Anything on ‘Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally.’

The pop megastar is in search of love, ecstasy, enlightenment, and all sorts of fun on a fourth album that subverts expectations and gets weird in delightful ways

Harry Styles Is Up for Anything on ‘Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally.’
Laura Jan Coulson*

★★★★☆



A little more than halfway through this delightfully strange, often lovely, and consistently fascinating album, things get downright freaky, at least musically speaking. Having deployed epic amounts of bass, a gospel choir, a valiant drummer who — whether it’s a thumper or a ballad — continually gets wicked, a wide array of rhythm tricks and tracks, guitars both acoustic and electric, and all sorts of pulses, washes, and rinses, Harry Styles shrugs and says: Why not everything at once?

“Season 2 Weight Loss” begins with some electric noise — something buzzing to life, plugging in, booting up, or feeding back — before keyboards that would be at home on a Kraftwerk record echo across a few seconds of stillness. What kicks in next sounds like the chopped-up breakbeats of drum-and-bass, except the beats keep hitting in odd places, like they’re trying to hide from the tempo instead of drive it. And when the bass thumps to life, it’s slightly out of sync, as if there were three tabs open on your computer, each playing a different song. Styles is addressing someone who could have been in his arms but who keeps holding out — “Do you love me now?” he asks, not for the first or last time on Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. in search of something just out of reach. The music builds and builds — calliope keys chasing a chorus of voices off in the distance, the drums banging like someone trying to break down a door — until, as if a mediation bell has rung to clear the space, things pause so Styles can sing, “You’ve got to sit yourself down sometimes.” And then, precept delivered, it all starts up again.

If that sounds a little weird, well, it is. It’s also typical of the ways this album subverts expectations. Styles was on tour for 22 months behind his second and third albums, 2019’s Fine Line and 2022’s Harry’s House, wrapping the last of 169 shows in July 2023. He’s said that afterward he wanted to spend time on the audience side of music, reconnecting to what it feels like to be in the dark, lost in the crowd, dancing and singing with strangers. The music he and producer Kid Harpoon — a key collaborator on both Fine Line and Harry’s House — have come up here reflects that desire. Like the work they’ve done in the past, it pays no attention to definitions, erasing all sorts of boundaries: rock-pop, organic-synthesized, written-jammed, authentic-contrived. And it’s based around freedom of all sorts — sexual, sure, but also a browser’s delight that raids the past without caring about history.

But Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. is more sensory, less star-driven than the music they’ve made before. Styles’ voice is sometimes secondary to the tracks, filtered or submerged in the mix. And though there are hooks — plenty of them — they too sometimes take a back seat to low-frequency thumps, grooves, shimmies, and shakes that are dirty in ways both sonic and erotic. This is music more invested in being than meaning, experience rather than ego.

Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. opens with four true bangers: the trancy “Aperture”; “American Girls,” with chomping low end that sounds lifted from an 8-bit video game; “Ready, Steady, Go!,” which matches a Chic bass line with an airplane-woosh effect like a DJ spinning the same track on two turntables slightly out of phase; and “Are You Listening Yet?,” where heavy 2010 vibes nod to both LCD Soundsystem and Stargate’s synth-bounce productions for Rihanna. There’s also “Dance No More,” a no-parking-on-the-dance-floor Eighties synth fest with chorus shouts of “Respect your mother!” invoking drag-ball culture.

Yet glitter-ball album cover notwithstanding, Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. isn’t exactly Styles’ dance album. Tracks like “The Waiting Game” and “Carla’s Song” are pop songs dressed up in disco clothes. “Coming Up Roses” leaves the dance floor behind for a ballad about a night on the town spent “hangover chasing” played by a 39-piece orchestra functioning less as a string section than a band. And Styles hasn’t given up his taste for Sixties melodic classicism. “Paint by Numbers” finds him sifting the pleasures and perils of his pop-idol persona while strumming an acoustic guitar as French horns and a mellotron-like keyboard offer support. “Oh what a gift it is to be noticed, but it’s nothing to do with me,” he sings. “It’s a little bit complicated when they put an image in your head and now you’re stuck with it.” The subject seems to be on his mind again in “Pop,” which rides along on an electro bounce and a chilly rococo synth melody and may be about music, orgasm, drugs, or all of the above. Styles mentions daytime mainlining and a lack of rolling papers before this: “It’s just me/On my knees/Squeaky clean fantasy/It’s meant to be pop.”

But on most of Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally., Harry Styles is a seeker, looking to find or provide enlightenment, ecstasy, love, or light. The album opens with Styles singing about letting in the light in “Aperture” and ends with “Carla’s Song,” where he finds the light not in someone else’s eyes, but in the gold those eyes see, as if his own capacity for empathy and understanding — not sex and love — is what he’s been after the whole time. In between those two moments there are bellies butterflying, friends flirting “with the bad ones” and finding ease in each other, un-intimate sex, a forgotten mantra, a desire to know what safe is, and an almost psychedelic sense of adventure. “If you know, then you know,” Styles sings in the closing track, sounding like he’s coming down from a trip or maybe exiting the world’s most exclusive club after a three-day party. “If you don’t, then you don’t.” The melody rolls like the tide, the beats rise skyward, and he shares one final benediction: “It’s all waiting there for you.”

More Stories

The Legend of Cynthia Plaster Caster
Cynthia Plaster Caster in 1969
© The Baron Alan Wolman Collection, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

The Legend of Cynthia Plaster Caster

Feb. 25, 1968. The Conrad Hilton Hotel in Chicago, Room 1628. Jimi Hendrix’s pants are on the floor, and Cynthia Albritton is ready. Along with her friend and helper, Marilyn, she carefully measures equal parts dental alginate powder and 70-degree water. Their friend Dianne, the “plater” — the young woman designated with arousing the subject — is going down on Hendrix, trying to get him to the edge.

When Albritton, Marilyn, and Dianne arrived downtown that afternoon, they weren’t sure they’d make it inside his suite, much less take off the 25-year-old guitar idol’s skintight bell-bottoms. They’d followed Hendrix and his band, the Experience, from the Civic Opera House, where they’d just played, to the Hilton, where they were staying. When Hendrix pulled up, they introduced themselves and flashed him a suitcase with their groupie collective’s name emblazoned in a white oval: The Plaster Casters of Chicago. They were there to immortalize his penis or “Hampton Wick” (a committed Anglophile, Albritton used Cockney slang whenever she could).

Keep ReadingShow less
Jay-Z Knows the Past Still Pays

Jay-Z has turned the 30th anniversary of his classic debut album into a major marketing event

Getty Images

Jay-Z Knows the Past Still Pays

There’s a pleasant absurdity to the advertisements for JAŸ-Z30 that are currently found across New York’s subway tunnels. Their dramatic imagery — a stark black backdrop pierced through the center with a pair of hands, presumably Jay’s, fixed into the famous Roc diamond — invites a kind of religious authority that feels a touch ironic for anyone who’s old enough to remember all types of handwringing over those very hand symbols only a few years ago. And maybe that’s the point. By now, nostalgia’s grip extends layers deep. So much so that you could find yourself waiting for the train, reminiscing on the days when people still made jokes about the so-called Illuminati.

Keep ReadingShow less
Did You Know These World Cup Players Also Make Music?

Did You Know These World Cup Players Also Make Music?

The World Cup is in full swing, with just a few more matches left before the quarterfinals. There have been plenty of feel-good stories and twists and upsets — Cape Verde’s Cinderella story, Norway’s stunning victory over Brazil, all of the controversy over Trump’s involvement in Folarin Balogun’s contentious red card. But in addition to these crazy moments and plots, what the World Cup does every four years is put a bright spotlight on the best soccer players in the world.

A lot of these athletes have had unexpected trajectories and remarkable biographies — even a surprising side hobby or two. This includes players who have hidden musical talents, or who have made careers moonlighting as singers, rappers, and musicians.

Keep ReadingShow less
How to Attend a Concert and Not Ruin It for Others
Gabrielle Ravet for Rolling Stone

How to Attend a Concert and Not Ruin It for Others

Back in 2013, we took it upon ourselves to remind music fans that it’s our duty to remain at least somewhat civilized when we attend concerts. We weren’t asking people to stop drinking, dancing, and having fun. We just wanted them to stop acting in super obnoxious ways that annoyed everyone around them.

Sadly, the world didn’t listen. In fact, 2013 seems like a quaint and respectable age now that we’re all living in the twisted dystopian hellscape of 2025. Cellphones were hardly a novelty back then, but most people could at least remember a time back then when they weren’t surgically attached to our hands 24/7. Instagram was fairly new, TikTok was barely a glimmer of an idea in the collective mind of the Chinese Communist Party, and the pandemic hadn’t robbed us of basic social norms that we used to obey when we left our homes.

Keep ReadingShow less
Madonna Finds a Nonstop Groove on Her Best Album in 20 Years
Rafael Pavarotti*

Madonna Finds a Nonstop Groove on Her Best Album in 20 Years

“People think dance music is just superficial,” Madonna announces early on her excellent new album, Confessions II. “But they’re all wrong. The dance floor is not just a place. It’s a threshold, a ritualistic space where movement replaces language.” That’s the threshold where Madonna has spent her whole life. Ever since she blew up in the Eighties, pop’s queen of queens has devoted her career to proving how complex, how dramatic, how ecstatic a dance floor can be.

On Confessions II, Madonna returns to the floor, the place where she always goes to rediscover herself. It’s a sequel to one of her most beloved albums, Confessions on a Dance Floor, her 2005 collaboration with the London disco master Stuart Price. But it’s also her best album since the original Confessions 21 years ago. It’s a 64-minute nonstop groove that flows like a club-DJ set, each song fading into the next, drawing from all over the history of dance music. You might hear a flicker of “I Feel Love” here, or “Apache” there, but it’s a history lesson that she turns into her musical autobiography.

Keep ReadingShow less