★★★★★★★★☆☆
Charli XCX technically released her last studio album in 2014. It was called Sucker and was packed with juicy, anthemic pop tracks that were characterised by her loud, punk attitude. One EP and two mixtapes later (the latter, Pop 2, you’ll find on many decade-end lists as one of the most important bodies of musical works of the 2010s), her artistry has undergone a shockwave transformation. She has enlisted the assistance of PC Music mogul A.G. Cook and calls SOPHIE, who’s flamboyantly choppy and audacious numbers have set her planets apart from other DJs, a pal. Her sound has now rocketed into outer space territory; it’s lasered with clamouring beats, electro influences and auto-tune, while still maintaining the traditional formations of pop on the ground. Her latest LP, Charli, is an assertion of her position as someone with all of the tricks of the trade to be a bonified pop star, but has pierced this image with a new-wave aesthetic to her sound that has forced us to pay attention.
With no soft music or pretentiously spoken word intro, Charli uses an epic synth progression and barely catches a breath as she accentuates her party-girl persona on the intro track Next Level Charli. This album is more intimate than its predecessors, but Charli XCX reminds us that she’s still your ultimate party mate. Followed up with what many have many hailed as the bop pop of the year, Gone vents the frustrations of anxiety and alienation on top of a kick drum and high-hat beat. The pre-chorus’s gradual, muted synth provides a wave of urgency as she sings the aggressive, stick-in-your-brain line ‘I feel so unstable, fucking hate these people’. The outro is an amplified, uptempo, thudding dance section that uses micro-seconds of vocals as an additional instrumental layer, encapsulating huge range to a singular beat. This would come from no other pop star and be crafted by no other than AG Cook.
‘Cross You Out’ is another angry belter (someone has certainly rattled Charli’s cage). It's sledgehammering, grunge-influenced pop-rock as Charli rids the toxic influences in her life. To the beat, Charli’s sings in ardour ‘and I’ll finally cross you out’ to round off the song; feeling just as cathartic to listen to as it probably was for Charli to sing it. The surprising feature of Sky Ferreira unfortunately appears lost amongst the hard sonic, despite the fact that it would have been the perfect addition to Night Time, My Time. Vulnerability, saying goodbye to dark pasts and sorrow are heavy themes throughout the LP. February 2017, for example, is a structureless, electro-dream number with gentle, icy effects as she spills sorrow for her mistakes. I Don’t Wanna Know is a gem on the album; stopping the album in its zoomed and scratched tracks. It’s an electro-ballad that is poised with emotion and vulnerability that is cleverly enhanced by auto-tune. It remains unique amongst the colossal beats and high-pitched synthesisers but never feels out of place, as the entire album feels like one meticulous experiment.
Despite Charli XCX’s individualistic style, she is not the type to denounce the pop legends that are often typecast into the category of manufactured. She's spoken of her adoration for the Spice Girls and Britney Spears and this love for the purest of pop is found on the intentionally cheesy 1999. A celebration of nostalgia and 90s culture, perhaps yearning for a simplistic time when pop was at its heyday and negative connotations were an anomaly. Charli XCX has proven herself as a double act; she is someone who can generate mega hits but there's also a space for her on the stage of a small, brick-layered venue drenched in sweat, strobe lights and club kids. White Mercedes is also worth a note here, it's traditional mid-tempo pop with an utterly enchanting melody on the chorus.
She continues to celebrate the weird and wonderful world of pop music on Click, inviting the high-energy Kim Petras and Tommy Cash along for the ride. Charli also drafted an effortlessly catchy rap with just about every homonym of the word ‘click’. From the hushed, odd merry-go round sounds to Cash's siren-infused verse that propels it to rave levels, all the way to the distorted, dubstep outro, the song is full of new dimensions and is utter pop mania brilliance. Both Click and Shake It are testimony to the fact that XCX really isn't fussed about having her vocals lathered across a song but can still show us that this is her party; she puts her peers on the decks to make it the best event you've ever been. The collaborations are empirical evidence that not having a lonesome body of work does not dismantle an artist’s credibility, nor ability to assert their position in music. Each of Shake It’s features (Big Freeida, Cupcakke, Brooke Candy and Pabllo Vittar) bring their own flare on top of the stretched and scratching bass and it never feels wrongly mashed. Their verses arrive after swirling, heart-racing trebles and make for an exciting alternative to a beat drop. The album is filled top to bottom with collaborators, from long time friends to the likes of rising star Lizzo. Lizzo's verse lasts approximately 1.5 seconds on Blame it on your Love; the bouncier, poppier and original edition of Pop 2’s Track 10 (which is way better).
2099 closes the album as a slick experiment. A mellow, dream-pop song with an assertive rap. It is two minutes and thirteen seconds of floating alien pop. XCX bounced from the pop-heavy 1999 to the more robotic, minimalist 2099 and brought Troye Sivan back along for the ride. It appears to be her way of allowing listeners to decipher a summary of the album and, perhaps unintentionally, her complicated position in the pop-o-sphere, from mainstream star to an underground, electro pioneer. She’s a pop star in the traditional sense, but she’s also ‘pluto, neptune’, as she notes on 2099. Charli’s taking us on her jet ski to the future, but it’s not a future we’ll ever understand, it’s an outerspace synthy, electro-pop planet that she’s crafted for herself and is bringing her fans along.
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