I am trying to imagine an arena or theater full of teenage girls singing along to Harry Styles’ “Kiwi,” a song from his new self-titled album. The refrain is “I’m having your baby/It’s none of your business.” The word kiwi isn’t mentioned, but we can guess that the young lady involved was from New Zealand, and Harry– whose album is much worse in every way than I could have imagined– may or not have knocked her up during a one night stand. It’s an angry song, because this is a “Sign of the Times.” Harry is very angry. Girls aren’t being nice to him. And he’s a put upon boybander. Show some respect! Is that my baby? he wonders. We don’t know.

And so we have “Harry Styles,” number 1 this morning in downloads across the globe. We’ve heard “Sign of the Times” and the dreadful “Sweet Creature.” We’re aware of “Ever Since New York,” which rips off Badfinger. We heard the catchy “Carolina” on the Today Show. There are only 10 songs on “Harry Styles.” They are all about Harry. They don’t make a lot of sense. Some of them are sung very badly. But it won’t matter, not for this weekend. Teengirl pop hysteria dates back to Rudy Vallee, to Frank Sinatra, to Elvis. Somehow it’s gotten less savvy over time. Witness Justin Bieber.

Harry is not bringing Sexy back. There’s no Timbaland-Timberlake type R&B that slyly reworks old idioms. “Harry Styles” is just on the nose. Either he got laid or he didn’t get laid. It’s black or white. If he’s by himself, he “played with myself.” All the songs sound like something else. The dreamy “Meet Me in the Hallway” (I just left your bedroom/Give me some more) has echoes of 10 different songs from the 70s. “Two Ghosts” is an indirect rip-off of the Allman Brothers’ “Melissa.” (Gregg Allman’s lawyers should take a good listen to it.) “Woman” is the marriage of “Bennie and the Jets” to 100 cliches, all from the 70s.

But hey– the “Harry Styles” album is not meant to be a musical breakthrough. It’s a souvenir. It’s a sign of the times. And the times, you know, are not good.

He tried and tried to get hits. But L.A. Reid is out at Epic Records. Variety broke the story, but not, I’m afraid, the whole enchilada.

I’ve been a fan of L.A. Reid for years and years, since he came up with LaFace Records and had tons of hits. At DefJam he could do no wrong. That’s where he brought back Mariah Carey, and reaped many other hits.

But at Epic it’s been an uphill battle. Fifth Harmony gave him some success, and Future having double smash albums simultaneously was a gift.

Still, Epic’s own future has been in question. During the winter, Sony’s grand poobah Doug Morris moved Sylvia Rhone out west to Los Angeles. She bought a house– didn’t rent– and I questioned whether or not this wasn’t the end of Reid. Alas, it was. Morris (and his successor Rob Stringer) sending Sylvia to the west coast was like sending a big sheriff to town. L.A.’s days in L.A. seemed numbered.

Now: what happens to vets Mariah Carey and Jennifer Lopez? Reid had them signed and loaded for more records even though neither one of them is burning up the charts anymore. His departure puts their deals, whatever they were, in peril. Reid was their “rabbi.” Now they are lacking an advocate. Carey and JLO could very well be in the same boat as Janet Jackson– getting licensing deals with distributors like BMG. But trust me, the days of huge advances for these beloved divas is over.

And L.A.? Come back to New York, sir. Manage, produce. There’s plenty to be done!

Miley Cyrus’s edgy period is over. She’s put away the wrecking ball and the dead petz, all the out there music that was making her so interesting. Her new single “Malibu” is very dull, it’s all about getting back together with a Hemsworth, running around the beach in Malibu. Well. She’s back to Hannah Montana. It’s probably for the best. No more nude photo shoots with Terry Richardson. It’s all Russell Stover candy now, and Hallmark cards. God bless. She still has a great voice.