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album, album review, harry styles, music, pop culture, review, rock, singer, song, writer, writing
We all know who he is—or do we? On the cover of his self-titled album Harry Styles is rather naked and definitely distressed: the singer bares his back to us in a pool of murky pink water, his downcast head inside cupped hands, a soaking wet study in vulnerability and penitence. The face, hair, and tattooed torso adored by millions across the globe are hidden almost with a trace of shame; the overall impression this image leaves is that of the star’s sensitivity as opposed to sexiness, Continue reading
‘There’ll never be another Elvis,’ said the old man to the impersonator. But there needn’t be, not when he is survived and granted eternal life by his works, influence, and legacy. Why would we need another Elvis when he is the one and only? The king never died; he is unsurpassable; long live the king.
