The first time I listened to Charli XCX’s “BRAT,” I thought I might have been hallucinating.
The second time, I understood that this stream of autotuned British vocals backed by deliriously synth-heavy club music was simply the sound of the album.
By the third listen, I was hooked. I had entered the lime-green world of mean girls and parties and summertime sadness. I was sure the album was full of pop-world context that I was far too nerdy to understand (I still don’t know what “I’m so Julia” means). Still, I found it fascinating.
I’d heard a few of Charli XCX’s previous mainstream hits, namely “Fancy” and “Boom Clap.”(If the names of these songs don’t ring a bell for you, their melodies likely will.) But “BRAT” seemed to have penetrated the cultural consciousness in a new way. At a late July get-together, one of my friends had declared that she was having a “brat summer” before admitting, with a laugh, that she hadn’t even listened to the album. When I passed a restaurant on the streets of St. Paul, I noticed a lime-green chalkboard advertising a “brat summer”– a.k.a. a summer full of bratwurst. As election season crept ever closer, I read about an unexpected political endorsement– “Kamala [Harris] IS brat,” Charli XCX had tweeted. “BRAT” was an album; but even more than that, it was a lifestyle.
I first played “BRAT” as background music for an afternoon run. As I mentioned, the sound of the album was originally off-putting. While Charli XCX declares herself a “party girl” in the album’s closing track, as someone who skipped homecoming last year because the music gave me a headache, I don’t think I exactly live up to that title. Electronic club music is not a genre I am familiar with.
But pop music is, and little by little, I warmed up to “BRAT.” The second time I listened to the album, this time with the intent of deciphering the music, it was late. I’ll just listen to the first few songs, I told myself, and then I’ll go to bed.
But I couldn’t pull the headphones from my ears. The music I once found annoying now drew me in and wouldn’t let me go. I listened as Charli XCX waffled between crushing insecurities and confidence on full blast. I listened to distorted, grating vocals and deep pop melodies that almost brought tears to my eyes. I listened, and I fell in love with the album that had defined the summer.
“BRAT” at first feels like the product of a pop princess who doesn’t care what anyone, anywhere thinks. The tracklist’s inconsistent capitalization seems straight out of Charli XCX’s Notes app, and the neon-green pixelated cover could have been made from a bad screenshot of a Canva design. Many of the songs, such as the thumping, catchy “360” and the repetitive, distorted “Club classics,” exude unapologetic confidence. “Von dutch” is an addicting power anthem, as Charli XCX spits lines like, “It’s okay to just admit that you’re jealous of me.”
But under the upbeat pulse of “BRAT,” the lyrics speak of a woman at odds with herself. “Apple,” for example, tells of a yellowing, rotten relationship. “So I,” arguably the album’s strongest song, mourns the loss of Charli XCX’s longtime collaborator and friend, SOPHIE, with deep-cutting lyrics and wavering vocals. “You would say, ‘Come on, stay for dinner.’ I’d say, ‘No I’m fine,’” Charli XCX sings, before admitting in a vocal track so soft it sounds like a whisper, “Now I really wish I’d stayed.”
It’s this relatable vulnerability that makes the album so strong. You don’t have to be Charli XCX-famous to relate to topics like grief and jealousy – or the varying facets of womanhood, which Charli XCX explores throughout the album. In songs like “Girl, so confusing” and “Sympathy is a knife,” Charli XCX laments her habit of comparing herself to other women. “Mean girls” is an ode to all the imperfect women who are, to paraphrase, “Kinda messed up but still in Vogue.” In contrast, “I think about it all the time” is a frank, quiet reflection on the potential of motherhood.
At times, “BRAT” captures the delirious brashness of late-night partying. At other times, the album feels like social commentary. For example, the music video for “360” features a star-studded cast of characters sitting down to dinner, their saccharine valley-girl accents coming to the forefront as they discuss what, exactly, makes an “It Girl.” “You have to be, like, known,” one of the video’s actors declares, twirling her long hair, “but at the same time, unknowable.” This scene is the essence of “BRAT:” sarcastic, completely unserious, yet cutting right to the truth.
Classifying “BRAT” as simply a collection of mindless dance-pop songs is misleading. No matter how club-heavy the music sounds, Charli XCX is parsing through some of her deepest thoughts on this album. “BRAT” is layered and complex, exploring ideas of confidence, fame, insecurity, and more.
And if you’re still wondering where, exactly, the name “BRAT” came from? Charli XCX described a “brat” in a TikTok video as: “That girl who is a little messy and likes to party and maybe says some dumb things sometimes. Who feels herself but maybe also has a breakdown. But kind of like, parties through it.” It’s this idea of partying through your breakdowns that defines the emotionally wrought, never-missing-a-beat rollercoaster ride that is “BRAT.” As Charli XCX, over the course of the album, seems to wipe her mascara-stained face and to return to the thumping dance floor, we, too, are reminded that we should have fun. Life can be hard, but “BRAT” reminds us that it doesn’t have to be.
“BRAT” manages to be a catalog of Charli XCX’s deepest thoughts and feelings while also making you want to dance until you drop. “BRAT’s” hyper-produced sound is not my type of music – but I love it anyway. The album is obnoxious and messy – but that’s the point. “BRAT” took over summer 2024, but I know I’ll be returning to it long after this summer spins into fall. 4/5 stars.
