For the last few months, I felt like one of the only people left in the damn world who actually got BRAT.
Throughout its unexpected virality and the utter chokehold it had on the Democratic National Convention, I semi–ironically played the role of the disgruntled gatekeeper, spouting obviously stupid questions: Does Kamala Harris have an experiential knowledge of PC Music’s ethos and influence? Does Mindy Kaling realize BRAT’s thematic importance in Charli xcx’s catalog? Does NATO relate to its commentary on cultural capital? Is this unimpressed Tiktoker my friend?
But of course, I’m not supposed to betray the BRAT mindset by giving a fuck about any of that—and Charli xcx definitely doesn’t.
On the dawn of BRAT autumn, she dramatically doubled down: Brat and it’s completely different but also still brat chaotically redefines the modern remix album, heightening the experimentation of its predecessor while deepening its narratives in the process.
Even more critically, it features a star–studded guestlist—an impressive feat, surely, but also a decided cultural victory that remixes BRAT into Brats: a collective endorsement of the original’s radically personal lyrics on fame and womanhood. It’s also an intimate peek into all of Charli’s closest circles—the PC Music universe, the George Daniel associates, the Drain Gang pals, the industry–titan connections—and an unlikely celebration of the fingerprints she left on each of them. Seriously, if you told me four years ago that Ariana Grande would be earnestly reflecting on her career over EASYFUN production on the same record as Bladee, I’d have to assume you were shitting me.
The self–referential, collaborative pace of the record starts off strong with ”360 featuring robyn & yung lean,” which clashes a pop superstar with a Stockholm Sadboys legend, and they’re just ecstatic to be hanging out with each other. Elsewhere, Troye Sivan spearheads the gay crowds in popping their shit to Charli, and Billie Eilish proudly announces she’d bang her. The “Club classics” remix takes “I wanna dance to me” literally, upheaving the track to be so referential to Charli’s “365” that it feels closer to a mashup, while Bb trickz quadruples its c*ntiness, spitting “brats” as ad–libbed “brrts” with unphased precision.
The camaraderie further emerges in the form of direct phone calls and conversations—the remix of “B2b” outlines Charli and Tinashe’s immediate collision as they gush over their recent returns to stardom. The remix of “Girl, so confusing” is a direct response to its original, not only revealing its lyrical recipient, but transforming an already vulnerable reflection into seeds for growth. Face–to–face and hands held tightly, Charli and Lorde “work it out on the remix”, standing against societal factors breeding self–doubt and division among women—it’s cathartic enough independently, but can be further read as a spiritual sister to “So I,” Charli’s devastating tribute to SOPHIE on BRAT, where she recognizes her failure to keep in touch.
Some features serve as ballast for Charli’s reflections on fame, most obviously in the “Sympathy is a knife” remix with Ariana Grande (possibly the most fitting addition to the original, save for Chappell Roan), a delightful crashing of worlds where the megastar’s signature “issa” reasserts the pressures of public scrutiny. Caroline Polachek, in a profoundly moving rework of “Everything is romantic,” recounts Charli calling for advice from Tokyo, grappling with the existential fears of stardom: “Did I lose my perspective? Everything's still romantic, right?” Held afloat by swelling strings, vivid illustrations of East London rain, and Polachek’s engulfing wails, the remix wears vulnerability as its own powerful reaffirmation.
In cases like this, the instrumentals change to mirror the heightened introspection, divorcing themselves from all the partying they wore so seamlessly on BRAT. On occasion, these efforts fall flat, like on Jon Hopkins and The 1975’s ambient reconfiguration of “I might say something stupid,” which reduces it to an almost unrecognizable husk, or on the remix of “Apple,” whose synth–laden vocals do little to justify axing the original’s crisp bounciness.
But most of the time, this mellowing works. In an intoxicating show of engineering, what sounds like a literally rewinding backdrop emerges in place of punchiness on the “Rewind” remix, providing the perfect bed for the track’s detuned pangs and Bladee’s casually laconic offerings to rain down on. The crushingly real “I think about it all the time” remix sacks autotune for direct belting, uplifting the wistful original with more sobering specificity.
The remix of “So I” is even more heart–wrenching, but features no new vocalists—only the ringing crescendos of A.G. Cook’s worldbuilding, hardened around a new intent: “Now I wanna think about all the good times." A montage of polaroids whizzes by, brightly accented in matching latex, birthday cakes, and Soundcloud demos, while some of Cook and SOPHIE’s most hallowed hits, like “Xcxoplex,” “Beautiful,” and “L.O.V.E.,” echo all around the looking glass. Beyond serving as a love letter to PC Music’s legacy, it’s indisputably the album’s emotional centerpiece.
But of course, through the tears, the party doesn’t stop. Shining through the record’s softening haze, the hardest tracks here are easily among the best. There’s the grinding “Von dutch” remix with Addison Rae, whose enveloping squeals resuscitate drunken 2000s club; the fun as hell “Mean girls” remix, which sees Julian Casablancas swimming in pianos with all his classic melodic quirks; and the hotly anticipated “365” EASYFUN remix with Shygirl, whose throbbing Belgian techno doesn’t leave a second to breathe.
It may be true that the tension between partying and reflection on this record makes it a significantly messier collection than BRAT, where the two integrated faultlessly. But nearly every transformative effort here is outstanding, with an array of hallmarks that separate them from every lazy remix in the pop sphere right now: a heightening of narratives, sonic risks that pay off in spades, and a self–referential nature that makes every second feel shatteringly authentic.
Charli xcx’s BRAT rollout remains the gift that keeps on giving, a shining instance of sincerity in pop music, and the breath of fresh air we needed after a lackluster 2023. Despite its thematic incoherence, being different is all this remix album ever really needed to do—and it passed that test with flying colors.
