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Awash with that lurid green and bewitching bangers, brat has been considered as one of the most enjoyable pop albums of the year so far since its release. But does it deserve the hype?

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Released earlier this month, BRAT follows on from 2022’s Crash but the only following it does in chronology. It all but abandons the commercially viable pop sensitivities of crowdpleasers and drives a texture that is sonically underground and feverishly experimental. Charli’s incessant need for a change-up after Crash was needed for her, apparently, denoting that the vanilla fodder-pop of it all was “not her at all.” A remark confounded by her horrible label forcing her down the stray path of radio-liner pop.

To Charli’s relief now, hyper bop hits are discarded and instead, are replaced with the lurid auto-tunings and glitchy splatterings of a vulnerable and messy pop curator who’s still trying ever so hard to dabble into the electro-dance culture from the mid-to-late 2000s.

The smarmy tellings-off of brat eludes the whole narcissism of Charli’s character; an almost chaotic version of “girl power” at the surface. Underneath, when the layers are stripped back, it can be said that it’s Charli at her most vulnerable. Steels of jealously are painted and authenticity is questioned throughout the 15-track album. While there is a diverse array of talking points, the album rarely has a shape-up, the glitzy electronica keeping up momentum from 360 through to hyper-bop overload B2b. It’s a lot.

It’s important to note that the album isn’t necessarily bad. Before the all-too-alluring deep dive into the meaning of it all – which no doubt Pitchfork will excite over – it’s just a very strong pop record. Bit estranged. Bit overstimulating. But enjoyable, nonetheless. But annoyingly, the hype for brat has been too all too impossible to ignore. From coining a new ‘brat summer’ with a pack of ‘cigs, a bic lighter and a strapless bra as the ideal starter pack, brat has become the all-too-inclusive soundtrack for accepting your insecurities and signposting your values. It’s almost like the wave of the somewhat trend has outweighed the album itself. Much like her British Dua comrade, the album is caked in nostalgic dance-pop throwbacks and harking of lesser indie-dance evils from around the globe. So it can’t be said that it’s entirely new or genre-defining. But, it’s taken off – which is hard to understand.

It’s also really difficult to actually like Charli right now too. From her annoying rollouts to her Twitter outbursts, to her decision to not even speak to her fans for vocal rest, it looks like Charli has leaned into this brat partnership a little too much.

In short, Charli’s sixth does not live up to the ecstasy it has received from her adoring Angels. Nor does it make my mind implode like the rest of the press let on. Maybe I’m missing a trick. It’s not certainly not my scene, but.. I suppose it’s cool to be brat.