charli xcx is leaving the brat behind

'Music, Fashion, Film' in retrospective

'Music, Fashion, Film' is Charli xcx at her most earnest. When she said, “I think the dance floor is dead, so now we’re making rock music”, it ruffled a few feathers - which was only to be expected from a generation so deeply invested in criticism. Many took offence to the comment because it isn’t necessarily true. However, it isn’t entirely wrong either.

House music remains an inescapable force, with artists such as Josh Baker, Prospa, Max Dean and Luke Dean dominating social media with their upbeat, club-ready tracks. If anything, the dance floor is far from dead. While traditional clubbing culture may be fizzling out, concerts and raves are becoming increasingly difficult to get tickets for. In today’s political climate, people are searching for an escape from reality - and, more specifically, for an excuse to dance.

The release of ‘brat’ marked a monumental moment in pop culture. ‘brat summer’ was not only a concept, but a lifestyle for many, encouraging reckless, hedonistic behaviours. What’s not to love? The album achieved astronomical commercial success, and catapulted Charli’s career to new heights, cementing her as one of the most exciting names in pop music. Coming from a girl who has been listening to her religiously since 2019, it was satisfying to watch Charli receive the mainstream recognition she had always deserved.

At the time of its release in 2024, mainstream pop rarely integrated elements of hyperpop or electronic music. ‘brat’ had a particular sound which was the auditory embodiment of sticky nightclub floors and tequila shots. It is very queer within its roots, which made its mainstream appeal so shocking to me. I imagine hearing ‘Spring Breakers’ for the first time as someone who was unfamiliar with her music, would have been the equivalent of showing a Victorian child an episode of ‘Naked Attraction’. The album in itself is a culture shock to anyone oblivious to the internet subcultures of the 21st century. The wittiness and authenticity within her lyricism was quite groundbreaking for an era where mainstream pop artists were being praised for their polished, ‘role model’ personas. How can Charli say that the dance floor is dead, after releasing one of the most exhilarating, energetic pop albums of the 21st century?

‘Music, Fashion, Film’ demonstrates the conflict between fame and artistic integrity. The album is a response to the commercial success of ‘brat’, which held Charli to a standard to present herself as this self-aware, messy party girl. The monochrome aesthetic is a visual motif symbolising the emotional bleakness and vulnerability, in which she once glorified through the party aesthetic of ‘brat’. This album feels more sincere than her previous bodies of work. Her delivery is straight forward, with very little references in her songwriting, compared to ‘brat’, which felt like a love letter to the artists and subcultures that inspired it. There are no high energy instrumentals to distract us from the subject matter. Charli is no longer partying through the pressure of living up to people’s expectations, and ‘Music, Fashion, Film’ is an auditory display of those struggles.

‘brat’ felt like a manifestation of the character Charli had hoped to become. The fame-hungry/rich-girl aesthetic surrounding the album was ironic given the fact that Charli had not achieved much mainstream success prior to its release. Once she embodied that character, her aspirations had finally come true. ‘brat’ served as a cultural zeitgeist, reminiscent of the Y2K obsession with fame throughout an era defined by paparazzi culture. The brand that Charli had created for herself served as a mirror for her desires for popularity on this scale. The level of status she had reached had her in public fascination similar to Lindsay Lohan and Tara Reid - celebrities whose toxic relationship with party culture and public perception had influenced the overall vision of the album.

After over a decade of performing to a devoted fanbase, largely consisting of gay men, Charli had reached a level of popularity amongst mainstream audiences who viewed her as a voice of their generation. I don’t believe that Charli’s music was ever made to become mainstream, however. I think that ‘brat’ as a concept album of glorified partying and vitality was viewed as anything but this - the performance aspect flew over people’s heads and now her sensitivity is viewed as a rare display of vulnerability. But Charli’s music has always thrived through melancholic lyricism, it’s the party aesthetic surrounding it that makes fans view the lyrics to be direct and superficial. The remix album to ‘brat’ provided more emotional depth due to its features, which brought this outside perspective to the tracks, allowing audiences to view the subject matter with more empathy and less superficially.

When the album rollout began for ‘Music, Fashion, Film’, Charli released her first single, titled ‘Rock Music’, which featured the infamous line, “I think the dance floor is dead, so now we’re making rock music”. This received mixed reviews, understandably, because fans expected ‘brat’ part two. It is far from a club track, but it’s quintessentially Charli. Her vocals have remained laid back, and the lyrics are still edgy. People love Charli for the persona she has built around her music, but ‘Music, Fashion, Film’ is Charli finally breaking the fourth wall. She’s acknowledging her status in a way that makes ‘brat’ seem performative - she’s hardly reinventing herself, but showing us the reality of fame beneath the glitz and glamour.

The track ‘Camera’ reveals the artificial nature of building a persona, and the strenuous labour of performance. In the video we see ‘La Haine’ actor Vincent Cassel exhaustingly repeat his own death scene on a film production, through a monochrome palette existing in contrast to the vibrant, manufactured aesthetic of ‘brat’. I believe this video is a strong visual representation of ‘Music, Fashion, Film’ as a concept, with intentional casting of an arthouse actor to symbolise the pressures of making art to receive praise. For any cinephile, the casting of Cassel feels majorly relevant to the themes explored within the album - specifically this track. But mainstream audiences don’t care to see an actor known for his legacy in foreign cinema. The fans want to see ‘360’ all over again. If Julia Fox or Gabriette isn’t there serving face, people become less invested.

Sure, there’s a few tracks on this album which don’t necessarily feel like they’re giving us an insight into Charli’s relationship with fame, but this album strays away from giving fans something to glorify. Charli could never replicate ‘brat’, because it’s a tale of desire. She’s now achieved the fantasy of stardom that the album encapsulates, so a follow up would never feel the same. To release another concept album with the same force, she would have to lose public interest and then write an album about that. The more she leaned into that character, the less she would have to write about cultural conversations, and that’s what’s truly making her grow as an artist. She has the ability to write about her own craft, rather than relationships or partying. There’s nothing for us to romanticise, because she’s writing about real hardships and mundanities. For us to have had ‘brat’, Charli releasing this became inevitable. This is simply the aftermath of becoming famous through cultural moments.

Charli is basically admitting to having zero desire for mainstream fame. She understands that the version of herself she is becoming will not align with the party girl that people have placed on a pedestal. This album couldn’t be more authentic, even the tongue-in-cheek track ‘Wink Wink’ feels like a display of sincerity due to its rebellion. “I’m not a bad girl anymore I promise” might be a white lie, but it’s not because she’s returning to her roots. Charli is rejecting everybody’s expectations by abandoning the orchestrated performance of curating a persona. People came for the act, but the fans stayed for Charli.