Long Live Harry Styles

BY KRISTEN HOLT
PHOTOGRAPH BY SEBASTIAN KIM


May 27, 2024 8:00 am

Andy Sutcliffe has retired from music.
He gave us two decades of entertainment, but stepped away as the other members of the group split to dive into independent projects. In anticipation of an interview digging into why he's chosen to create a persona under which to release solo music, I came loaded with questions connecting this thread to his history with Paper Sea.

He had no idea what I was talking about.


 

Sutcliffe has always leaned into playing a caricature of himself even during his days with his longtime band, leaving no doubt that he is in on the joke about musicians taking themselves too seriously even when he admittedly took himself too seriously. As the eternal performer, Andy seems fully committed to the bit, perhaps even more so than he was with as he played the former owner of Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino.

The references to a previous group remain, but rather than being part of a famous alt rock band, Styles was once part of a fab foursome of his own, a pop group called Neon Pulse. With one successful album allegedly released in 2018 under their belts, the lads split in during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic due to "irreconcilable differences".

In addition to a separate website and social media accounts for Neon Pulse chronicling their rise and fall – spoiler alert: they were formed the old-fashioned way, by shoving a group of siblings (all played by Sutcliffe) into the spotlight – Sutcliffe and Dirty Hit produced an album for them, full of catchy instant classic bops. He's vague about whether the rumours of him secretly singing all the vocals (a la Nicole Scherzinger of PCD fame), but if he is, it's a testament to Sutcliffe's musical talents, the verses and choruses sounding decidedly unlike what we know of his voice.

He still gives great hugs, but Harry feels lighter. I imagine that this is what Sutcliffe might have been like with a less tumultuous history, though the references to Sutcliffe's wife's music (namely The Harold Song and Style) cannot be ignored despite this relationship not existing in the Styles canon. The lack of connection to Sutcliffe allows for plausible deniability of the subject of his music despite Neon Pulse's song Perfect undeniably borrowing from Style. There's a maturity in Paper Sea's lyrics that is missing from the Styles body of work, but it would be a mistake to view this as a bad thing. The chaotic nature of old Paper Sea interviews, just like the visible signs of intoxication, are also noticeably absent in this new person, a sign that some of the introspective lows that led him to musical inspiration may not have haunted Styles.

It perhaps also explains the deviation from Sutcliffe's usual wardrobe choices. When he greets me at TOKii, his "favourite place", he explains, he's wearing something you might find in Marc Hindley's wardrobe.

That alone should have let me know that this meeting would be different.

It's no secret that I've had the privilege of conducting some of the best and worst interviews either of the Sutcliffes have given, nor is it one that celebrities often request interviews when in search of a bit of good pr. When someone who has been otherwise radio silent since the abrupt dissolution of Paper Sea has their people reach out to you – this one coming via enigmatic email from label founder Doug Evans himself – you jump at the chance to tell a story.

Andy's story.

"I'm a bit nervous," he admits, the Manchester drawl still present albeit a bit dampened after years of living in London. "You never know how people are gonna feel about you going it on your own, especially when they loved the band." Spoken as Styles, I feel confident that this is also Andy himself speaking.

With a history of doing things to spite naysayers, those who doubt the rest of Paper Sea's support of Sutcliffe's reinvention as Styles are easily proved wrong in a quick viewing of any of Neon Pulse's music videos, in which each of them have cameos. It's easier to speak about his past abstractly,

"But obviously you miss them?"

In his hesitation, I sense another Andy answer being squashed. If Guys is any indication of his opinion of his best friends, I'm certain he wants to shout: Yes, desperately, but he's nothing if not dedicated to a performance.

"You don't stop spending time with your family simply because you stop working together," he says finally, almost sagely. "But it does make your relationship with them different. You feel more confident that they're your mates because they want to be and not for a cheque," he laughs, leaving me baffled as to how anyone ever on the receiving end of one of those could spend seconds without another.

Nobody is friends with this man purely for the money.

But they might take a chance on his solo career because of it. Paper Sea was signed to Dirty Hit a lifetime ago, and since then, they've been the flagship group of the label - the most commercially successful project so far, though no artist on the roster fails to punch above their indie label weight class.

Undeniably, Andy Stucliffe remained a massive part of this success, and it makes sense that some of that magic might carry over into other ventures. Every recording contract comes with an obligation to produce a certain number of albums. It seemed like the natural conclusion of Paper Sea/Neon Pulse's ending would be a requirement that the four lads make music for the label in another way.

"I originally wanted to buy out my contract," he says, expertly placing the perfect amount of wasabi onto his sushi roll with chopsticks. "That was on the table for quite a long time, but I think it was mostly fear. Fear of trying something without the security blanket of the group and failing. Fear of feeling as though you're betraying what you had as the group by doing anything on your own. But I wasn't the first."

What might have been a defensive comment by Sutcliffe reads as sincere by Styles, and it's accurate. Alan Cross was the first to move forwards with a solo album, dropping Geography in March of this year. His production work with artists like No Rome takes centre stage in the neo soul record that Styles seems to have borrowed elements from while preferring to swerve more deeply into the pop realm.

"I just needed the right push."

He never mentions Harlowe by name, dancing around the subject, but the way that he rubs his thumb across the wedding ring tattoo that this new persona can't hide indicates that he must be referring to her.

Andy Sutcliffe has four children, three under the age of five, and is now, by definition, a family man. This seems suitable for a man in his early thirties, but leaves someone trying to navigate the two sides a bit confused about the relationship status of this character. Noticeably, Styles doesn't wear any of the signature jewellery we've come to associate with their relationship, but he exists in a world in which Andy also exists and he is the one who is married. His thoughts on the female Sutcliffe are limited: "I have a lot of respect for her as an artist, but we've never met."

My first ever interview with him was in 2013, and it was then that I got my first real experience of the magnitude of his appeal. That was him four years into a long term relationship, and a truly single version of him was the hope of every creature onto which he beamed some of his magnetic personality. Amidst his frequent infidelities, their love for each other remained a constant presence in both of their works. It then begs the question: who is he writing about, if not the ever constant her that is his wife.

"It puts too much pressure on a song when it has to be about something that happened. On the artist, as well." Listening to Paper Sea's discography was like reading his diary, but nothing about Neon Pulse feels that way. There's a layer of distance between us and Styles, a polished throwback to old school stardom that Paper Sea lacked. Andy might say that it's the result of two decades of experience, with both he and his wife slowly shutting us out of their private lives post-children. Feeling as though he had given away too much intimate knowledge of Sutcliffe's personal life, the singer first brought us to outer space with Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino and The Car, writing songs he claimed were distinctly not about anything recent.

The absence of the vague sense of melancholy that seemed to linger around Sutcliffe doesn't mean that he hasn't brought with him his sharp understanding of celebrity. "I know that seems like an unfair answer, but it's one that you have to get out of the way, isn't it? Otherwise, everyone spends every interview asking you about your process. I think that people aren't as interested in the process as they claim to be. They just want the names and addresses of the people the songs are about."

He's careful, however, not to explicitly state that his newest songs aren't about real events. "If you think it's about someone specific, you're right, but if you think it's about someone else, maybe you're also right."

In a world in which a predominately female fanbase is seen as a negative thing to male artists – as though it implies a lack of depth – he seems to have (as his predecessor had) embraced the idea of being a girls' guy. We're approached by a trio of barely twentysomethings, each nudging the other forwards to speak. The winner (or loser, depending on your perspective) raises her phone as she requests a photograph. He slides out of the booth to take a picture with all three of them, taking a second with the girl who served as representative. "That was brave. I can't tell you how many people I've wanted to ask but backed out at the last moment."

It's strange to think of someone who has been famous for so long still getting starstruck around other celebrities, but he sounds sincere when he speaks, unfazed by the interruption. They turn to look at us several times before they make it out of the door and he blows a kiss that sends them into a fit of giggles before turning back to me.

"I just want to make music that sounds good."

It's undeniable that Fine Line: Part One is music that sounds good. From the heartbreakingly hopeful Sign of the Times to the energetic Kiwi, it's a solid five track extended play, carefully curated to represent Harry Styles at his musical peak. It feels like we've been invited to a party. Even with his niece – daughter of his older brother, former footballer Jamie Sutcliffe – playing the role of the female version of him in one of his music videos, it's different to the ones that Paper Sea brought us to: late nights that bled into early mornings, drug and alcohol binges that led to regret.

This is an eternal summer.

Andy Sutcliffe has retired from music. Long live Andy Sutcliffe Harry Styles.



Kristen Holt (@holtemup) is an entertainment writer in Los Angeles.

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