Itās a rare thing I openly tell people I enjoy anything popular. Itās true, I donāt. I like popstars, though. The occasional dip into reality television because I love seeing gorgeous women, it girls, celebutantes. Charli XCX has made me aware of this because BRAT is an album that is self-aware of itself, what it needs, and who its core audience is. Itās for the raunchy girls and the girls who party in heels. Itās attitude. Itās not breathless wispy fragile and dishonest. Itās wants to be dishonest but the fragility is the honesty. It pays homage to runway walks, to sleaze, to underground electronic music, and to chronically online. And I had bumped it non-stop while doing Naughty Girl workouts, while I pump iron, and as I ruminate about my life.
1. “360”
A minimalist opener with plinking synths and booming bass, “360” sets the tone for BRATās duality: itās both a flex (“Iām your favorite reference, baby”) and a confession of insecurity. The trackās skeletal productionāreminiscent of early 2000s electroclashāfeels like a runway strut soundtracked by Aphex Twin, with Charli oscillating between dominance and vulnerability. The lyrics nod to her cult status, but the hollowed-out beat suggests the hollowness behind the persona 28.
2. “Club Classics”
A chaotic, hyperactive club banger, this track is a love letter to hedonism and self-referentiality. With glitchy synths and a bassline that feels like itās vibrating through a sweat-drenched warehouse, Charli declares sheāll “dance to [her] own songs all night.” Itās a meta-commentary on her careerāembracing niche adoration over mainstream appealāwhile sonically channeling the abrasive euphoria of SOPHIEās productions 19.
3. “Sympathy Is a Knife”
Here, Charli weaponizes her insecurities over a serrated, buzzing instrumental. The lyrics (“I couldnāt even be her if I tried”) expose the toxicity of comparison, while the productionāreminiscent of How Iām Feeling Nowās distorted anxietyāmirrors the emotional whiplash of scrolling through Instagram enviously. Itās PC Musicās signature “banshee howls” repurposed as a self-lacerating mantra 38.
4. “I Might Say Something Stupid”
A downtempo interlude with Gesaffelstein-esque dystopian synths, this track captures the dread of social faux pas at a party. Charliās autotuned murmur (“I donāt feel like nothing special”) feels like a late-night text sent in regret. The sparse piano and industrial hum underscore the albumās theme: glamour as armor, but the cracks are where the truth leaks out 29.
5. “Von Dutch”
The ultimate brat anthem, “Von Dutch” revs like a turbocharged Y2K electro throwback (think Bloody Beetroots). Charli taunts a hater with “Itās okay to just admit youāre jealous of me,” but the trackās aggression feels defensiveāa performance of confidence thatās one misstep from unraveling. The Boiler Room debut of this song cemented its status as a clubland manifesto 26.
6. “Everything Is Romantic”
A cinematic, shape-shifting odyssey, this track swings between Hollywood strings and baile funk beats. Charli romanticizes chaos (“Pompeii could make you change”), tying love to destruction. The productionāsampling Kanyeās VULTURESāfeels like a high-fashion editorial scored by Justice, blurring the line between sincerity and satire 79.
7. “Rewind”
A nostalgic, spoken-word vignette Ć la Uffie, “Rewind” yearns for pre-fame simplicity over a warped, MySpace-era beat. Charliās deliveryāhalf-sung, half-mumbledācaptures the dissonance of longing for a past that might not have been as pure as memory insists. Itās the sonic equivalent of digging up old LiveJournal entries 38.
8. “Girl, So Confusing”
A glittery yet scuzzy dissection of female rivalry, this trackās lyrics (“Youāre all about writing poems, but Iām about throwing parties”) pit artistry against hedonism. The productionās “ugly synths” mirror the messy, unresolved tension, while the Lorde-featuring remix turned it into a pop-culture Rorschach test 37.
9. “Apple”
Bouncy and deceptively sweet, “Apple” uses fruit metaphors to explore generational trauma (“My parents fucked me up”). The contrast between the playful melody and dark lyrics mirrors BRATās core tension: life as a shiny, poisoned offering. The “broken record” chorus feels like a TikTok hook designed to haunt you 69.
10. “B2B”
A cold, robotic breakup banger, “B2B” (DJ slang for “back-to-back”) pairs trap beats with icy synths. Charliās detached delivery (“You donāt know what you want”) channels the numbness of post-party clarity, while the warped vocal loops evoke the disorientation of a 3 AM Uber ride 89.
11. “Mean Girls”
A sardonic ode to internet it-girls, this track name-drops Lana Del Rey and Red Scare over a Guetta-esque beat. The jazz-piano solo feels like a wink at performative depth, while Charliās lyrics (“Sheās coquettish in the pictures with the flash on”) critiqueāand revel ināthe very aesthetic she embodies 79.
12. “So I”
The albumās emotional core, this minimalist tribute to SOPHIE is devastating in its honesty. Charli admits, “I was a shitty friend,” over a muted piano, her autotune cracking like grief. Itās a rare moment where the albumās fragility isnāt camouflaged by bravadoājust raw regret 18.
13. “I Think About It All the Time”
A glitchy meditation on motherhood, this trackās whispered vocals and skittering percussion mirror the anxiety of life-altering choices. The line “Should I stop my birth control?” lands like a gut punch, juxtaposing clinical detachment with existential dread 29.
14. “365”
A hungover reprise of “360,” this closer swaps the openerās confidence for druggy nihilism (“Shall we do a little key?”). The distorted synths and abrupt ending feel like a night crashing into dawnāBRATās party anthemism finally admitting its exhaustion 68.
BRAT is an album that thrives on its contradictions: itās sleazy but introspective, brash but fragile, a love letter to club culture and a eulogy for its emptiness. As you said, itās for the girls who “pump iron” and “ruminate”āa soundtrack for both the grind and the crash. Charli XCX doesnāt just make pop music; she dissects it, leaving the guts glittering on the floor 389.