Written by Vyvy Le // @vyvy.le_ // (she/her)
Design by Sonali Menon
My friends and I are what I like to call an “I’ll just let someone else plan it” type of crowd. We’ve always been missing the TypeA personality, the doer, the “let me call customer service right now” friend in our group.
However, when my best friend heard that Harry Styles was coming to Texas, suddenly it was “we’re doing this,” “let’s go,” and “now now now.” Somehow, she got three high school friends, all living hundreds of miles from each other to coordinate themselves for one night in Austin, months ahead of time.
Her fan lore goes back to the One Direction days when Zayn was still there and Liam wasn’t a douche yet and has morphed into a loyal follower of Harry. On the other hand, if we’re being completely transparent, I have never gotten the hype behind them and subsequently Harry.
I liked his early discography very much but fell off his music soon after his first album. I never knew him much as an artist or person unless it was a video of him shoved, lovingly, in my face by my best friend. The only things I knew about him of my own volition are that he may or may not have spit in Chris Pine’s lap, he wore a skirt in Vogue, and that he’s British. I didn’t even listen to his most recent album, Harry’s House, until a few days before his concert. I was pleasantly surprised by this album, running a bit more on the indie side of pop, with its bass riffs, a much more experimental album, a little mish-mash, but great songs.
But suddenly, my two best friends, who I hadn’t seen in literally forever, were in town for him. At that point, I couldn’t care less who we were seeing. On the pilgrimage to the Moody Center from San Gabriel, we couldn’t stop smiling for one reason or another. My friend was grinning from ear to ear because she was going to be breathing Harry Air™ while I was just happy to be along for the ride. While showing my best friend, who is a die-hard Aggie (obligatory throwing of metaphorical tomatoes), that a few nights before, Harry wore a UT Longhorn cheerleading outfit, I was struck with the thought that if he threw a Hook ’Em sign, that would be ammo for me against her for years. So you could add that to the list of reasons why I was smiling too.
We arrive at the concert on a trail of colorful feathers and we’re immediately bombarded with Harrymania – the arena was flooded with colorful lettering, flowers, and hearts.
My friend has promptly planned out the night to the minute, so after the merch line and photo ops, we get to our upper bowl seats (the best seats in the house) in a timely manner to watch Harry get wheeled on stage in a crate.
He starts the night with “Daydreaming”, a hymn that calls his fans to their feet. His orange-striped outfit pierces the crowd. The audience ebbs and flows with his energy and he echoes like he was enjoying the performance as much as we were enjoying watching it. The scene graphics were a standout, jumping from grayscale to oversaturation to cute little animations to kitschy freeze frames, blending seamlessly in between. He takes a pause after a streak of his mellower songs (and my personal favorites) including “Matilda,” “Little Freak” and “Satellite” to insert some levity through large-group therapy. He scouts for signs in the audience, looking for something juicy like a crazy ex or an uncommitted boyfriend, or something more meaningful like a 50th birthday.
Through his excited chattering with those few lucky fans or his general befuddlement over Texan culture, he showed a layer of sincerity that I completely missed before. His gentle care in giving advice or having the crowd wish a happy birthday along with him. There is intent behind his interactions, where at first I thought the purpose was performative, but I now see it as a curiosity. Him wanting to know more and in return give more. And from such a high-caliber star like him, genuine consideration seems to be harder and harder to come by these days.
The night comes to an end with an impressive flourish, he delivers strong performances of “Sign of the Times”, fan-favorite “Medicine”, and finally as tradition states “Kiwi”.
My friends and I left blurry-eyed and silent. And it wasn’t until late at night in bed, that I realized that even though we didn’t get the Hook ’Em, you can consider me hooked.
