Brat: Charli XCX's neon fever dream wrapped in industrial pop
If Charli XCX's last few years have been a rocket ride into the future of pop, Brat is her crash landing - abrasive, chaotic, and impossible to look away from. But here's the twist: the wreckage is gorgeous. Brat isn't just an album; it's a hyperactive flex, a party that's about to spin out of control but never quite does. And in classic Charli fashion, it's both a rejection of the mainstream and a knowing wink at it.
The art of controlled chaos
Charli has always thrived in the space between hyperpop maximalism and club music's gritty underbelly, and Brat is where she pushes that tension to its limit. The production is sharp-edged and metallic - like a Chrome Hearts choker in sonic form. AG Cook's fingerprints are all over it, but it's less bubblegum cybernetic and more like a strobe-lit warehouse rave at 3 AM (Think How I'm Feeling Now, but on steroids and with a nicotine addiction.)
Take the opener, 360. It's all dizzying repetition and bratty, self-referential flexing - she name-drops herself like she's her own hype-man, and somehow it works. Then there's Von Dutch, a sneering, high-energy anthem that sounds like a supermodel doing a line of coke off a Motorola Razr. It's trashy in the best way, like Y2K culture resurrected and set to a heartbeat-monitor BPM.
Club nights, existential crises, repeat
At its core, Brat is an album about duality - the ecstasy and emptiness of nightlife, the thrill and loneliness of being famous, the high of being desired and the hangover of feeling disposable. Charli has always been self-aware, but here she weaponizes that awareness.
Girl, So Confusing is a standout because it's the most vulnerable she's been in years. Over a skittering beat, she sings about complicated female friendships, jealousy, admiration - basically, every messy emotion you've ever felt in a club bathroom at 2 AM. And then there's I Might Say Something Stupid, a song that feels like scrolling through your own regrettable texts the morning after. It's brutally relatable but set to an almost sarcastic, twinkling synth line.
The pop star who refused to behave
One of Charli's greatest strengths is her ability to exist outside pop's traditional rules while still making bangers. She's not interested in traditional song structures or radio-friendly hooks; instead, she lets the beats drive the storytelling.
That's why B2b is such a highlight - it's not a song so much as a feeling, a relentless pulse that transports you straight into a sweaty, packed club where everything is neon and slightly dangerous. And yet, for all its industrial harshness, it still has a sense of humor. Charli understands that pop music doesn't have to be either ironic or sincere - it can be both at once.
A love letter to the club (and its ghosts)
There's a sense of nostalgia running through Brat, but not in a sad, looking-back way. It's more like Charli knows the party can't last forever, but she's determined to keep dancing anyway.
Apple sounds like the lost child of an early-2000s Timbaland beat and a 2040s rave anthem, while Sympathy Is a Knife takes the vulnerability of heartbreak and turns it into a steel-toed boot. Even when Charli is at her most emotionally raw, she's still making music that demands movement.
Final Verdict
Brat is not for everyone, and that's exactly the point. It's intentionally abrasive, occasionally ridiculous, and unapologetically itself - kind of like Charli. But if you've ever loved the thrill of a perfectly timed beat drop, the sweat-soaked euphoria of a dance floor, or the rush of a song that makes no sense but still somehow makes you feel something, this album is for you.
FINAL SCORE: 8/10