Somewhere along the way, the concept of pop star became seriously distorted. The 2010s – a totally mind-blowing decade we're still trying to figure out – produced a series of pop stars and protagonists who prioritized not just a conventional understanding of “relatability,” but a certain kind of feigned honesty and vulnerability. In an effort to stimulate the increasingly parasocial connection between consumers and creators, pop stars packaged “refreshingly honest and vulnerable” lyrics that didn't really say anything about their creators and sold them in more variations and configurations than ,what editions are there of the Merriam-Webster dictionary. The obsessive curation of pop star kin threatened to swallow whole the reckless bombast and brash provocation of pop's most gifted and most imported creators – until Charli XCX's sublime sixth studio album, Brat.
As an artist who helped guide pop's evolution over the past decade and change — while sporadically reaching some of pop stardom's most impressive commercial heights (Billboard Hot 100 chart toppers, Grammy nominations, smash soundtrack singles) — Charli XCX has always been miles ahead. Now that the top 40 world has mostly caught her — think Beyoncé's “All Up in Your Mind” (2022) or Camila Cabello's “I Love It” (2024) — an album like Brat it feels remarkably accessible. However, at least half of that accessibility comes from Charli's own maturation. Brat finally finds her embracing the full range of her particular brand of pop stardom, not through cynicism or snobbery, but with a genuine self-reflection heard through some of the boldest and boldest productions pop music has heard in years.
“I got my own way and I made it / I'm your favorite reference, baby,” the album begins by proclaiming, on delicious clean-pop opener “360.” The opening swinging synths immediately place the LP's sonic universe as the soundtrack to the video game that is life – specifically the lives of high-octane hot girls, party girls and, of course, pop stars. On “Club Classics,” she defines herself as such and demands to dance to her own music in the club, and on lead single “Von dutch,” she reminds us—and herself—that it's our “No. 1.”
For an artist who is often incredibly candid about her insecurities about where she is (and how she's perceived) in the pop ecosystem, these songs could be read as Charli trying to convince herself of her greatness. In fact, she has always believed these things, but these feelings are only one component of her self-understanding. Being a hot pop star girl is an awfully messy business, and like Brat working her way through her 15-song setlist, Charli completely immerses herself in these murky, ever-troubled waters.
Brat is filled with homages to the frenzied French dance music of the late 90s, as Charli searches for the biggest and brightest sounds that pop can offer, and these sonic touchpoints are crucial to the album's success. “All this sympathy is just a knife/ Why can't I even grit my teeth and tell a lie?/ I feel all these emotions I can't control,” he sings on the chorus of “Sympathy Is a Knife,” the third album. track and a first taste of the nuanced examination of pop star Charlie that he points out throughout the album. On the Gesaffelstein-helmed “I Might Say Something Stupid,” she pretends to be content with being “perfect for the background.” “Girl, So Confused” finds her settling for empty lips from peers that only exacerbate how out of place she feels. and “I Think About It All The Time” introduces motherhood as a very real journey for her, one that really comes to her attention – for better or for worse – for the first time.
These moments where Charlie opens up on a whim are as disarming as they are charming – and never at odds with fancier anthems like 'Talk Talk'. The negative connotations of the word “brat” are paramount to the tone of the album, but if a “brat” is to be understood as a misbehaving child, then Charli draws on her childish tendencies by feeling the full extent of all her emotions. – more of a skill than most people realize and that many people lose as they move into adulthood.
Brat reaches its emotional climax with “So I,” a genuinely heartbreaking ballad dedicated to the late SOPHIE, pop and dance pioneer and frequent Charli's collaborator. “When I'm on stage sometimes I lie/ I say I like to sing these songs you left behind/ And I know you always said, “It's okay to cry”/ So I know I can cry, I can cry, so I cry,” she chills, her slightly hoarse voice hanging by a thread as a tidal wave of tears threatens to wash away the rest of the song. Charli has never sounded like this on record. This is the vulnerability we've been faxed over for the last decade in pop.
Of course, Charli is able to display this level of nuance in her vocal performance because the LP's expansive soundscape – which includes contributions from forward-thinking producers such as El Guincho, AG Cook, Cirkut, George Daniel and Omer Fedi – allows her the space to. Whether it's the pulse of 'Everything Is Romantic' or the electro-jazz breakdown in the back half of 'Mean Girls', Charli has an entire sonic galaxy to stake her claim.
Six studio albums and several seminal projects since her debut a decade ago, Charli seems to have finally found herself, while charting limitless futures for dance and pop music in the process. We hear so much about how pop music tends to sideline its leading ladies once they hit their 30s, but now 31-year-old Charlie is becoming more indispensable. She is pop music – in all its brilliant silliness and self-deprecation and sex and bleak introspection. And personifying the entirety of pop while composing it into some of her most evocative work nevertheless reveals more about who Charli is than any faux-divisive, needlessly convoluted lyrics ever could.
from our partners at https://www.billboard.com/music/chart-beat/charli-xcx-brat-review-1235706411/
