It’s been ten years since a 24-year-old Louis Tomlinson was left scrambling for an identity after One Direction fell apart. Up until that point, his solo career had been defined by tragedy and misfortune: the deaths of both his mom and younger sister, alongside ill-timed releases and pandemic tour postponements. His previous two albums, Walls and Faith In the Future, came with a kind of prepackaged melancholy exacerbated by the general trepidation that comes with going out on your own after years of being regarded as one of the lesser singers of the biggest band in the world. Now Tomlinson’s walking a road traveled by plenty of ex-boybanders—NSYNC’s Lance Bass, Backstreet Boys’s Howie Dorough, Westlife’s Brian McFadden, New Kids on the Block’s Danny Wood, even Ringo Starr, if we’re going there—and it’s not the most fun road to walk, either; it’s accompanied by a pervasive sense of needing to prove your worth, to sing for your supper, to prove the skeptics wrong.
Tomlinson set the tone last September with “Lemonade,” a buzzy clap-along that couldn’t be more fun-loving—but given what else was to come, it wasn’t necessarily the strongest lead single. He recorded much of How Did I Get Here? in Costa Rica, and I guess nothing says happy sunny days like an uptempo 4/4, a fresh glass of “Lemonade,” and some lackluster lyricism (“She’s so bitter she’s so sweet / … / A little taste is all I need” is pretty on the nose and, dare I say, feels like “Watermelon Sugar” backwash).
The rest of How Did I Get Here? refuses to stay in one place; the titular “here” feels like it’s constantly in flux as the tracklist meanders through the full spectrum of pop rock. Red Hot Chili Pepper riffs unspool on “Jump the Gun”; frankenpop organs splash on “Imposter”; the pop rock flavor on “Palaces” feels like an early-era Bleachers relic. Tomlinson displays a notable dimensionality in his voice, flaunting a falsetto on the bright funk-pop of “On Fire,” elsewhere mixing a groggy drawl with thick guitar phrases like on “Lazy.” There’s a dash of Lonerism and a sprinkle of Salad Days in “Sunflowers,” a song bolstered by Tomlinson’s gentle vocalizations at the head of each verse.
Does he drown in the references? Sometimes. After all, there are only so many different genres you can call upon before an album starts feeling like a game of dress up. But even so, they don’t go so far as being complete ripoffs; everything is still coated in pop fundamentals, and Tomlinson plays up his hooks smartly. It doesn’t feel like he’s wallowing in a crash-course on radio boredom, at least. He told Billboard that he’s finally leaning into his pop roots after years of trying to differentiate: “My voice sounds pretty good on a pop song!” And it does: his voice, known to be touch-and-go, maintains its resonance across all of How Did I Get Here? He sounds so vibrant and crisp that fans are even wondering if he’s finally stopped smoking. Even if Tomlinson’s not totally sure of his sound, he’s certainly sure of himself. These songs don’t shrink down for anyone, and he sells his disappointment and anxiety with nuance, refusing to bemoan his own celebrity. Tomlinson doesn’t have his shit together and he’s walking into that admission alone—and that’s the best part of the record, especially on the strange, sleepwalking “Lucid.”
Tomlinson could have spent these 12 songs wallowing. It’s probably what a lot of people expected him to do, anyways. The negativity and grief surrounding his life isn’t ignored on the record, but rather than play the “woe is me” card, Tomlinson greets the pain with audible assuredness. He doesn’t victimize himself or anybody else. While “Dark to Light” leaves a lot to be desired musically, standard-sounding sort-of ballad as it is, its sympathetic portrait of loss (presumably the death of his old bandmate, Liam Payne) is compelling, as is Tomlinson’s own voice, especially when presenting the song’s closing refrain: “Don’t go anywhere I can’t follow.” Things pick up on “Jump the Gun,” as flanging guitars add an abrasive kick to bolstered mid-range wails and looping phrases. “Broken Bones” is overwhelming with distorted guitars and Phantogram-y synth wahs. The breakbeat and deep bass adds a churning intensity as he sings about the chaos of his daily routine falling short of a Hero’s Journey. Even “Imposter” has an ominous undertone that exists at odds with the beat’s inherent strut, that unsettling feeling of being out of place building into the song’s hook.
The lyrics across How Did I Get Here? suggest that Tomlinson’s trust doesn’t go much further than himself, but somehow, in that realization, he seems to have found some uncanny, nostalgic peace. “Sanity” feels like a kind of meta-acknowledgement of this mindset: “It’s only me and nobody” as a modus operandi, the breezy, almost-bossa backbeat adding a swiftness and ease. “Sanity” is quick and rushed, as Tomlinson delivers wordy lines in run-on cadences, with long, drawn-out belts tacked to the ends (see: the way he pronounces “self” like “se-ye-ye-yelf”). It has the same kind of semi-serious playfulness that Tomlinson’s implemented throughout his solo career. It brings to mind the days when he had one foot in two worlds: One Direction’s residential class clown, and the band’s liaison to record execs. Ten years after breaking up, it seems that the band’s merry prankster is finally getting serious.
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