Brat - Charli xcx

Charli XCX’s BRAT is the first album in a while that made me feel like my body and brain were finally on the same team. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed: bratty, confident, spinning out, coming down, starting over, and doing it all while sounding like the inside of a fluorescent green rave bracelet. It opens with “360,” which I first heard on TikTok and then immediately ran to scream in my car. The beat is so clean and stompy and weird, and Charli just comes in ready to fight. She’s talking about being the one everyone copies, and even if I can't relate, I believed her. Every line is said like it’s a dare. I played it three times in a row and walked into CVS like I had enemies.

Then “Club Classics” hits and it’s this kind of breathless, hot, slippery little thing. She’s listing producers, talking about sweat marks on her clothes, and it sounds like she's a little drunk and doesn’t care who’s listening. I love this one so much because it’s not about being cool, it’s about actually having fun, which is way cooler. It reminds me of dancing in a hot room in the middle of summer, laughing too loud, staying out too late, feeling alive for no reason.

“Sympathy is a Knife” is where the album shifts. It’s paranoid and brutal and weirdly pretty. She’s spiraling about jealousy and insecurity and hoping two people break up, and instead of hiding those feelings, she says them out loud. The synths sound like a swarm of bees with perfect hair. It’s so specific and ridiculous and petty that it loops back around to being kind of heartbreaking. I think a lot of people will pretend they’re above this song, but I don’t trust them.

Then “365” shows up for the first time. It feels like a little palate cleanser, all fluttery and pink and a little empty-headed in a good way. It’s light and repetitive but in a way that feels intentional. It’s not filler, it’s breathing room.

“Talk Talk” is so dumb in the exact right way. She says “talk to me in French, Spanish, your own made-up language,” and I was like okay, sure, yes. It's the kind of song that makes no sense but sounds like the inside of your brain when you’re crushing on someone and they make eye contact with you at a party. It’s glossy and unhinged and makes me grin every time.

“I Might Say Something Stupid” kind of broke me. It’s just a shaky piano and Charli talking like she’s texting you from the bathroom floor of a party she didn’t want to go to. It’s short, awkward, quiet, and probably one of the most honest things she’s ever made. You can hear her trying to be normal, trying to sound okay, and not quite getting there. I love that she left it that way.

“Von Dutch” is so loud and glitchy and annoying that it rules. It sounds like someone poured Monster energy into a synthesizer and then kicked it down the stairs. She’s yelling about being a cult classic and it’s fully unhinged. I think I blacked out the first time I heard it. It’s the song you put on when you want to feel invincible, even if you're just cleaning your room.

Then “Everything Is Romantic” pulls a total switch-up. She’s talking about scenery and families and how even the most random stuff can feel cinematic when you’re in a certain mood. It’s almost embarrassing how much I relate to this. I’ve definitely been on a walk and convinced myself I was in a music video because I saw a bird or whatever. This song is for that feeling.

“Rewind” feels like she found a USB in an old Juicy Couture bag from 2008 and just uploaded whatever was on it. The vocals are blown out, the synths are fried, and she’s yelling things like “FEEL EMBARRASSED” in all caps. It’s like nostalgia got put through a blender. It shouldn’t work, but it absolutely does.

“So I” is her song for SOPHIE, and it’s not soft or graceful. It’s raw and weird and full of guilt. She’s not trying to sound like a perfect grieving friend. She’s just saying what she wishes she’d done differently. It’s rough in the exact way grief is, and it made me shut up for a minute.

“Girl, So Confusing” is such a strange, sticky little track. At first it feels kind of surface-level, talking about another pop girl who maybe hates her, maybe wants to be her. But the more I listened, the sadder it got. It’s really about trying to connect with someone and constantly second-guessing if it’s mutual. And when she says “we both have similar hair,” it’s both hilarious and kind of devastating. I love how weird and uncertain this one feels.

“Apple” is probably the most confusing track on the album, and I’m obsessed with it. She just keeps saying “the airport” and sounding slightly insane, and the beat squelches and pulses like it's alive. It feels like wandering around a terminal with no sleep, headphones in, half-laughing at something you’ll cry about later.

“B2B” sounds like Charli doing Charli. It’s clean and sugary and spacey, like floating in a nightclub full of Jell-O. It doesn’t try to be deep, but it’s the kind of track that fills your brain up like cotton candy and makes everything feel a little less real. I’ve played it at least once a day since the album dropped.

“Mean Girls” is so fun. She’s calling out a specific type of girl, the one who’s “not like other girls” but still obsessed with herself. There’s vocal fry, piano chaos, and lines that feel like you overheard them in a sorority house bathroom. It’s bitchy in the way only someone who’s been hurt can be. I love it.

“I Think About It All the Time” caught me off guard. It’s about visiting a friend who just had a baby and suddenly questioning your own future. She’s honest about the envy, the confusion, the weirdness of seeing people settle down while you’re still figuring things out. It’s not polished. It’s full of awkward phrasing and clumsy emotion, and that’s what makes it feel true.

When “365” comes back to close it all out, it lands differently. The fun feels a little more earned. The synths hit softer. You’ve lived inside the album for 40 minutes and now you’re coming out the other side, still a little dazed. It’s not a grand finale. It’s just a reminder that you can start again.

BRAT feels like Charli made an album for the inside of my brain. It’s pop music with sharp teeth and smudged eyeliner. It’s insecure and full of itself and wired and honest. It knows the party isn’t going to fix anything, but it’s still going to go. I’ve listened to it front to back more times than I can count, and it still makes me feel like I could do something reckless and important at the same time.

That’s rare. That’s BRAT.