Harry Styles' Disco Comeback and Raye's Resurgence Set Pop World Spinning

Mia Reynolds, 1/23/2026Harry Styles and Raye are redefining pop with their latest projects, blending vulnerability with celebration. Styles’ disco-infused “Aperture” offers a mission of light and joy, while Raye’s “This Music May Contain Hope” provides tender solace. Together, they illuminate the transformative power of music.

Styles, whose reputation for reinvention now feels hardwired, could have gone in any direction. But instead of downshifting quietly, he barrels back with “Aperture”—a title that doesn’t so much hint at the personal as it does broadcast a philosophy. The track dropped in late January, signaling not just the start of a new album (cheekily named Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally.—there’s a wink in there, certainly) but a return to a soundscape sprinkled with disco glitter and digital edge. Not a whisper, then. More the splash of a disco ball sending fractured light across kitchen tiles at 2am, a distant echo of joy that feels oddly specific if you’ve lived it.

And that’s Styles’ trick—melding bravado with a whiff of vulnerability. “Take no prisoners for me / I’m told you’re elevating / Drinks go straight to my knees / I’m sold, I’m going on clean,” he sings, each line teetering between confession and celebration. The strobe-lit optimism finds its pulse not just in synths and grooves, but in the invitation hidden at the chorus: “aperture lets the light in.” There’s metaphor, but there’s also a mission buried there. The suggestion that pop, at its best, cracks something open and lets a breeze in.

The coming year appears to be one long parade for him. Kicking things off in Amsterdam, Styles’ “Together, Together” world tour is mapped out across continents, including a 30-night run at Madison Square Garden—a residency that will undoubtedly become legend whether or not every night sells out (let’s be honest, we all know it will). Whether this is the evolution of the pop showman or the making of a modern myth is anyone’s guess. But Styles seems content to walk the line: neither hiding in plain sight nor making a spectacle of things, but finding that slim middle ground where everyday magic still sparkles.

Meanwhile, Raye charts a parallel path, though she never makes a fuss about it. Her new project, “This Music May Contain Hope,” feels almost medicinal in its tenderness. A four-part odyssey, pressed into vinyl, each side nudges the listener from sorrow toward something a little softer, maybe even hopeful. Rather than background noise, the album insists on being a companion—something to press play on when dusk hits too early and silence stings a bit.

Raye’s approach is less about spectacle and more about scaffolding: she builds safe places with melody, finds beauty in the broken, and names heartache without wallowing. The architecture of her record is bold—four seasons mapped out like a pilgrimage, with lyrics that plant hope under the snow and dare you to believe in brighter days. There’s no trace of cynicism, which, in 2025, might be its own kind of rebellion.

Prior to the album’s release, fate decided to meddle—her car, stuffed with handwritten songwriting journals, vanished one frigid evening. The sense of loss was immediate (anyone who’s ever spilled coffee onto a favorite notebook can relate, even if only a little). Yet, miraculously, everything was returned. No damage done. As if the cosmos needed her to trust that some things, when truly precious, will circle back. It’s a quiet parable: sometimes what’s nearly lost becomes the kernel of new creation.

Her tour—aptly labeled “This Tour May Contain New Music”—snakes from London basements to American theaters. Each performance spins the intricacies of the studio into a live tapestry, taut with emotion and raw musicianship. Critics at Rolling Stone have already called her a “master entertainer,” which almost sells her short, but language always struggles to keep up with revelation.

What both Styles and Raye offer this year isn’t just music—it’s the architecture of solace. Discotheques transmuted into confessionals, heartbreak disguised as celebration, hope planted in the cracks. Rather than a season of escapism (which pop always promises), this feels more like a season of transformation, grounded by faith that light does, in fact, sneak back through the slimmest aperture. Or, that forgotten seeds beneath stamped-down snow might just coax forth new green.

If there’s a through-line to all this, it’s in the delicate balance between spectacle and sincerity. Both artists know the currency of longing and have mastered the art of turning expectation on its ear. Pop, at least this season, isn’t just the soundtrack to brighter days—it’s the reminder that, sometimes, the smallest crack in the dark is all anyone needs to make it through.

Come to think of it, maybe that’s the truest legacy these artists are laying down. Songs don’t just fill silence—they light the way, strobe-lit or softly glowing, for anyone searching for the next right step.

There’s a peculiar hum in the air when two shape-shifters in pop decide, almost in tandem, to disrupt the familiar rhythm of the charts. Harry Styles, after slipping away from the relentless glow of the spotlight for three years, has emerged right on cue for the winter-spring handoff—like someone throwing open the curtains on a gloomy Sunday. Across the Atlantic, Raye sculpts her own sanctuary with an album that aches, heals, and invites anyone shivering in the cold to come in, even if it’s just for a song’s length. Somehow, the genre that’s spent a decade flirting with nostalgia might be looking forward again.Styles, whose reputation for reinvention now feels hardwired, could have gone in any direction. But instead of downshifting quietly, he barrels back with “Aperture”—a title that doesn’t so much hint at the personal as it does broadcast a philosophy. The track dropped in late January, signaling not just the start of a new album (cheekily named Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally.—there’s a wink in there, certainly) but a return to a soundscape sprinkled with disco glitter and digital edge. Not a whisper, then. More the splash of a disco ball sending fractured light across kitchen tiles at 2am, a distant echo of joy that feels oddly specific if you’ve lived it.And that’s Styles’ trick—melding bravado with a whiff of vulnerability. “Take no prisoners for me / I’m told you’re elevating / Drinks go straight to my knees / I’m sold, I’m going on clean,” he sings, each line teetering between confession and celebration. The strobe-lit optimism finds its pulse not just in synths and grooves, but in the invitation hidden at the chorus: “aperture lets the light in.” There’s metaphor, but there’s also a mission buried there. The suggestion that pop, at its best, cracks something open and lets a breeze in.The coming year appears to be one long parade for him. Kicking things off in Amsterdam, Styles’ “Together, Together” world tour is mapped out across continents, including a 30-night run at Madison Square Garden—a residency that will undoubtedly become legend whether or not every night sells out (let’s be honest, we all know it will). Whether this is the evolution of the pop showman or the making of a modern myth is anyone’s guess. But Styles seems content to walk the line: neither hiding in plain sight nor making a spectacle of things, but finding that slim middle ground where everyday magic still sparkles.Meanwhile, Raye charts a parallel path, though she never makes a fuss about it. Her new project, “This Music May Contain Hope,” feels almost medicinal in its tenderness. A four-part odyssey, pressed into vinyl, each side nudges the listener from sorrow toward something a little softer, maybe even hopeful. Rather than background noise, the album insists on being a companion—something to press play on when dusk hits too early and silence stings a bit.Raye’s approach is less about spectacle and more about scaffolding: she builds safe places with melody, finds beauty in the broken, and names heartache without wallowing. The architecture of her record is bold—four seasons mapped out like a pilgrimage, with lyrics that plant hope under the snow and dare you to believe in brighter days. There’s no trace of cynicism, which, in 2025, might be its own kind of rebellion.Prior to the album’s release, fate decided to meddle—her car, stuffed with handwritten songwriting journals, vanished one frigid evening. The sense of loss was immediate (anyone who’s ever spilled coffee onto a favorite notebook can relate, even if only a little). Yet, miraculously, everything was returned. No damage done. As if the cosmos needed her to trust that some things, when truly precious, will circle back. It’s a quiet parable: sometimes what’s nearly lost becomes the kernel of new creation.Her tour—aptly labeled “This Tour May Contain New Music”—snakes from London basements to American theaters. Each performance spins the intricacies of the studio into a live tapestry, taut with emotion and raw musicianship. Critics at Rolling Stone have already called her a “master entertainer,” which almost sells her short, but language always struggles to keep up with revelation.What both Styles and Raye offer this year isn’t just music—it’s the architecture of solace. Discotheques transmuted into confessionals, heartbreak disguised as celebration, hope planted in the cracks. Rather than a season of escapism (which pop always promises), this feels more like a season of transformation, grounded by faith that light does, in fact, sneak back through the slimmest aperture. Or, that forgotten seeds beneath stamped-down snow might just coax forth new green.If there’s a through-line to all this, it’s in the delicate balance between spectacle and sincerity. Both artists know the currency of longing and have mastered the art of turning expectation on its ear. Pop, at least this season, isn’t just the soundtrack to brighter days—it’s the reminder that, sometimes, the smallest crack in the dark is all anyone needs to make it through.Come to think of it, maybe that’s the truest legacy these artists are laying down. Songs don’t just fill silence—they light the way, strobe-lit or softly glowing, for anyone searching for the next right step.