For an artist whose discography had already embodied the rebellious, pleasure–loving energy of mid–2010s youth, the best is yet to come, apparently. Charli xcx’s sixth studio album, BRAT, has been promoted as her “most aggressive and confrontational” to date, according to the singer herself. With the artist’s own foreshadowing, coupled with her history as a pop icon, it’s easy to expect the messy, thrilling hyper-pop record of our dreams. This assumption makes further sense when you consider the inspiration for the record: a callback to the illegal London rave scene where a young Charli first started performing. Talk about authenticity.
Surely, the singer is no stranger to rebellious youth—her ringing trademark. It seems as though she’s been around forever; it might even come as a surprise she’s only 31. But in the six studio albums that span her discography, Charli hadn’t given us music that definitively compares to her earlier work. Her 2022 release CRASH hints at a revival in her artistry. In a bold step forward, the record saw promising feedback, laying the groundwork for further exploration of this kinetic pop–funk spirit. But for an artist who leans into her turbulent persona so boldly, her solo work since 2014 hasn’t quite been the definition of expected excitement—with few exceptions, of course. BRAT just might be an adequate continuation.
The album was preceded by the release of two singles, “Von dutch” (and its well–received Addison Rae and A.G. Cook remix) released on Feb. 29, and “360” on May 10. Two other tracks, “Club classics” and “B2b” were released on April 3 as an EP. To sum up this quadruplet in one word: nightclub. The impact of 2010s club culture can hardly be called inspiration as it is nostalgia. This callback ranges in clarity, with Charli explicitly petitioning for a return to the wilderness in “Club classics,” and “Von dutch” being a less–obvious nod to 2000s street style, when celebs like Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake were spotted wearing a variety of the brand’s apparel, most notably, their iconic trucker hats.
“B2b,” the chronicled twin of “Von dutch,” is very similar in tempo and rhythmic identity, with a noticeable difference in message. Charli echoes a confident and confrontational sentiment directed at some unidentified foe, whom she claims is her obsessive fan despite bitter behavior. The singer, unlike her previous demand for cultural and musical rewind, echoes “I don’t wanna go back, back to, back to, back to, back to, back to you.” In these lyrics, it's obvious she is talking about a previous lover. Leave the nostalgia for laser lighting displays and the dance floor, it seems.
The strongest of these prereleases is “360,” which is the opening track on BRAT and currently Charli’s most popular song on Spotify. The same brash synth melodies, earworm vocals, and excessive compression and distortion are ever–present here, as with the vast majority of the album. The album is full of cultural references, but in this single, those references are an endorsement of present–day icons. The echoic “I’m so Julia” sentiment is about actress, model, and celibate icon Julia Fox. Her high–profile relationships (or, rather, one relationship in particular), feuds with other celebrities, and questionable wardrobe choices have made her a provocative figure. But if it’s her unashamed, outspoken attitude we’re talking about, it’s easier to understand Charli’s admiration. Besides, the singer is no stranger to controversy herself and nurses a particularly impenitent mindset, especially on X, the platform formerly known as Twitter.
Charli also superciliously namedrops A.G. Cook, her frequent co–producer, and approvingly nods to model, Nasty Cherry singer, and Matty Healy’s current girlfriend Gabbriette. In the music video, the message becomes even more obvious. Charli xcx enlists an all–cool cast, featuring Rachel Sennott, Chloë Sevigny, and Emma Chamberlain—and yes, Fox and Gabbriette make an appearance also. While these names vary in contentiousness, it’s clear Charli feels that these figures accurately embody what matters most to her: the party girl.
But “360” and the songs like it are self–referential to a fault. On one hand, the exaggerated aplomb is very true to the boldness of early 21st–century pop, but its incessant repetition and bravado are done with a little less finesse. In other words, fervent spits such as “I don’t fucking care what you think” and “you’re obsessing just confess it ‘cause it’s obvious” aren’t quite the sound of apathy.
This isn’t exactly unknownst to the artist. The album gradually enters a realm of insecurity and confession for the singer, before returning to an upbeat, electro–pop sound in “Talk talk”—which focuses on lustful, hazy eye contact across the dance floor—and the thrilling, image–obsessed persona Charli has cultivated in “Von dutch.”
It’s new territory for the artist, who has never before explored more introspective topics in her discography. These tracks, which include “Sympathy is a knife” and “I might say something stupid” (the title of which speaks for itself), are not as brash as other album features but also are not as well done. While both songs are jagged reflections on paranoia and jealousy, the first is frenetic and exciting to listen to. The latter is almost ballad–like, in a manner that clashes with the rest of the record’s exaggerated, eclectic feel. The droning piano melody doesn’t pair so well with heavily autotuned refrains like “I’m famous but not quite” and “I look perfect for the background.”
As the contemplative dialogue increases, the quality of the songs decrease. Following the praise of her collaborator and friend, the late SOPHIE, in “So I,” the subsequent track “Girl, so confusing” is a stilted, thinly veiled diss targeted at a specific female singer to whom Charli is often compared to. It’s clear she’s not exactly a fan of this connection, as she asserts they are drastically different in habit and style. Sources speculate she is probably talking about Lorde or MARINA, but, victim aside, the song comes across as an unwarranted jab.
The more Charli delves into her honest side, it becomes increasingly apparent that the egotistical, rebellious, and hedonistic persona she maintains is, to some extent, a front. But this is what she’s good at! The longer she delves into her vulnerability, hastily and without much regard for coherence, any attempt at profundity falls flat. “I think about it all the time” is probably the album’s toughest listen. Here, Charli ponders motherhood, which takes the listener completely by surprise and provides yet another idea to add to the extensive list of topics she has touched on in a 15–minute window.
The album concludes with “365,” a remixed version of the record’s initial track, with a rhythm that satisfyingly returns to the coherent, energized vibe of the album’s beginning. It’s relieving that Charli ends on a high note.
Brat and it’s the same but there's three more songs so it’s not, the deluxe version of the album, is definitely a strong supplement. “Hello goodbye” is on par with the record’s other more introspective tracks. On the other hand, “Guess” and “Spring breakers” are noticeably stronger additions, with rave–inducing harmonies and a heavy, gritty production that enhance BRAT’s party girl motif.
All things considered, the return to the popular culture of years past is straightforward, appealing, and, for the most part, well executed. As far as personal sound is concerned, Charli may have just found her signature. But BRAT’s reflective side is hindered by severe underwriting. The singer loses her finesse towards the middle of the album, as she is run aground by aggressive and confrontational attempts to convey personal sentiment through a series of disjointed metaphors and chaotic dialogue.
Maybe this attempt at experimentation is unappreciated, but an “aggressive” and “confrontational” party album isn’t really where you’d expect to find conversations on loss and family life. Some might say it’s a worthwhile endeavor to share your more vulnerable thoughts to the world, but to lay them in quick succession, unconnected, and without dedicated lyrical tact—it’s less profound. That being said, when Charli does messy, 2010s clubs recall she does it right.
