Charli XCX BRAT
(Atlantic)
Over a decade on from her debut album proper, it still seems like Charli XCX isn’t sure what side of herself she wants to present to the public. Artists can develop over time and experiment, but the steps that Charli has taken often seem like unsure, kneejerk reactions to what’s gone before. The underground Tumblrwave of True Romance was followed by the straight-up pop-punk-lite of Sucker, which in turn preceded the brain-melting abrasive hyperpop of the Vroom Vroom EP. When, in 2020, she started to become personal in her songwriting with the patchy, fan-influenced lockdown record, how i'm feeling now, her next release was her most mainstream album yet: Crash.
It seems like a peripatetic career arc that would be difficult to reconcile and bring together, yet somehow Charli XCX has done it. BRAT is all of the above and more: a club record that isn’t afraid to be vulnerable, pure pop that pushes the boundaries of what the genre can contain, and something which appeals to the individual listener while being a collaborative and communal experience.
The 2000s rave scene might be the most obvious touchpoint on BRAT and it’s effectively where Charli grew up, playing house parties at the tail-end of the MySpace era and self-releasing singles called things like Art Bitch and !Franchesckaar! There’s an interpolation of Bodyrox’s Yeah Yeah on Von Dutch and Mean Girls contains more than a nod to David Guetta’s Where Them Girls At, yet these still sound like a modern twist rather than something that harks back to a bygone era. Charli’s cooler-than-you vocal fry and clipped Home Counties vowels portray a steely confidence, and it’s a confidence that means she gets away with Mean Girl’s unadorned boogie-woogie-like bridge.
While there are bangers left, right and centre, the more emotionally raw tracks are where the real interest lies and where BRAT truly excels. The spectre of SOPHIE hangs heavy over the record. When the two collaborated on the Vroom Vroom EP in 2016, it marked the biggest stylistic lurch forward in Charli’s career thus far, leading to a period of her releasing mixtapes rather than albums proper. SOPHIE is referenced by name in Club classics, a thumping, bass-heavy track co-produced by PC Music head and SOPHIE collaborator A. G. Cook. Later in the album, So I is a touching tribute to SOPHIE, one that manages to be tender and heartfelt while remaining true to their shared hyperpop principles. It owes more than a debt to SOPHIE’s It’s Okay to Cry – a title which Charli borrows for a line in the song – but the real high-point comes when Charli wonders “Would you like this one?” only to answer her own question with a distorted, SOPHIE-esque voice replying, “Maybe just a little bit”.
Whereas Charli letting you into her head on how i’m feeling now was unexpected and disjointed (though, in fairness, none of us were at our best in mid-2020), on BRAT it adds layers to an already breathtaking record. Apple might seem jaunty and almost throwaway at first, but its lyrics about her relationship with her parents and how she sometimes wants to run away while also recognising their shared traits are truly universal. Even more candid is I think about it all the time, where Charli tells a story about meeting a friend’s new baby and ruminates about whether she would ever want children herself. It’s a real look into her psyche, and in a society where young women are still assumed to be aspiring mothers-in-waiting, it’s a bold statement to confess she’s really not sure what to do.
If you’ve heard BRAT, there’s a glaring omission in what has been discussed so far, and those are the tracks that bookend the album. Opener 360 is the pure distillation of Charli’s Midas touch when it comes to dance-pop. Over a bouncing riff, Charli is aspirational, working angles, posing and calling out her celebrity friends. It’s a huge viral hit, and rightly so, but it takes on another life entirely when you hear BRAT’s closing track, 365. It might start out similarly to 360, but while 360 is full of the optimism that comes before a big night out, 365 takes a darker turn. It’s still perfect for the club, but nightmarish, oppressive squelches overwhelm the track, and there’s the feeling of partying being an addiction rather than a pastime. 360 sings of being “in the party b-b-bumpin’ that beat” but on 365, it’s definitely not the beat she’s bumpin’ (“Meet me in the bathroom if you’re bumpin’ that / 3-6-5 party girl bumpin’ that”).
The duality encapsulates the various personas that Charli has drawn together on BRAT. She’s “666 with a princess streak” on 360 but it’s “Who the fuck are you? I’m a brat” on 365. But more than any other album in her discography, BRAT showcases every facet of Charli XCX. She’s a club diva, she’s a pop girlie, she’s a partner, she’s a friend, she’s a daughter, she’s a woman trying to navigate her 30s and she’s a person who’s still mourning the death of someone very close to her. On the evidence of BRAT, it’s also justified to say that, right now, she’s the greatest pop star in the world.
25 June, 2024 - 10:01 — Joe Rivers