The former One Direction member’s solo debut is just another pop star flailing to find his identity amid trend-hopping production and half-baked lyrics.
One Direction was famously assembled because Simon Cowell and his fellow X-Factor judges didn’t have much faith in the boys’ potential as solo artists. If Liam Payne’s debut, released more than a decade after the band’s televised genesis, is any indication, Cowell was right. Payne is, at best, competent. His voice is pleasant but not especially charismatic. His choices are safe but uninspired. A couple of years after launching his career, his musical identity remains wholly unremarkable. (Cowell has since criticized Payne in the press for signing with Capitol, and not his own pop-pipeline label.) LP1’s 17 songs, including a 2018 Rita Ora collab from the 50 Shades Freed soundtrack and a Christmas number tacked on at the end, have the ambiance and trend-scraping of a Zara fitting room.
The journey from boy band to solo act has broken many aspiring pop stars. But what it requires most—gesturing at a distinct, compelling identity—is Payne’s biggest question mark. Despite being a UK tabloid fixture, he’s been unable to convey a discernible personality—or any personality at all. Even with a built-in global audience of millions, it’s unclear who this collection of middling songs could possibly resonate with. Former Directioners clamoring for a solo Liam album? New fans seeking nondescript, paint-by-numbers pop? And yet, improbably, Payne has been among the band’s most successful solo members, metrics-wise.
“Strip That Down,” a 2017 love song premised on his freedom from One Direction and featuring a bloodless verse from Quavo, has amassed billions of plays. Other singles, like “Familiar” with J Balvin and “Get Low” with Zedd, despite being completely unmemorable, have proved adequate enough to satisfy the low bar of a generic pop playlist. Throwing spaghetti at a Spotify algorithm and seeing what sticks appears to be Payne’s strategy with the rest of LP1. The single “Stack It Up,” featuring A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie, further betrays his ambition of an Ed Sheeran-style metabolism of the current pop sounds. There are layered R&B harmonies, vaguely Latin rhythms, and compressed synths as melody, but even with two songs written by Sheeran himself, Payne only gasps at his radio-ready effectiveness.
In recent press, Payne has hinted at the complexity of his life post-One Direction, including fatherhood, brushes with substance abuse, and frustration with accepting his role as the band’s most-boring member. But he draws little inspiration from that wealth of real-life experience. Instead, he relies on inane songwriting concepts, rote misogyny, and feelingless flexing. The lyrics are puerile and half-baked. It’s hardly worth laying them all out on the page, but the worst offender must be from (the nerve!) “Hips Don’t Lie”: “Don’t be giving me the eye/Unless you got what I need/I hope your hips don’t lie/Unless they’re lying with me,” he sings.
One song, “Both Ways,” takes the trope of hetero objectification of bisexual women to gross new lows: “No, no, I don’t discriminate/Bring it back to my place/Yeah, she like it both ways.” In addition to being offensive, it’s not even convincing as an expression of desire. If you can’t effectively use a pop song to communicate horniness, the most basic of human emotions, then what do you have? Listening to LP1, you almost feel sorry for Payne. It’s maybe more pathetic to have failed not for risking too much, but after seeming to have tried so little.
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