Charli XCX once, presumably jokingly, claimed whatever followed Brat would be a dud. This is a two-pronged strategy from the club classics hitmaker. She both tees up the audience with a project that extends the lifespan of Brat simply by mentioning it in the same breath but also lowers expectations and fashions an excuse for when the project doesn’t land as well. Brat, like it or not, was a cultural moment that has survived long past its sell-by date. That’ll be the peak of Charli XCX, not as a songwriter or instrumentalist, but as far as popularity goes. There’s no way of maintaining superstardom like that, not anymore. Music, Fashion, Film pulls out all the stops and even has a David Cronenberg feature on the final song, No One Lasts Forever. The Videodrome director is a mouthpiece for the Brat hitmaker, who fails to conceptualise and present clearly her feelings on fame. Charli XCX has wisely pulled away from trying to manufacture a moment. Brat didn’t do that; neither does Music, Fashion, Film. It increases the chance of a repeat of that spontaneity but doesn’t guarantee it. No album should be expected to redefine the times. This one doesn’t.
Rock Music, the opening song that notes inspiration, incest, and dull interpretations of what the creative field is, feels damning yet lived-in. Charli XCX highlights what should be criticised about the insular notions of creative fields, gentrified arts with self-exploration as the sole purpose. But it never has a moment to it that feels like criticism of the experience, just an explanation of it as one. Performatively shallow, or sincerely obtuse? Who knows. The result is the same, either way. A moment of depth appears on SS26 where Charli XCX notes the downturn in our quality of life the world over and what music, fashion, and film can offer beyond respite from the trying times. This is where she comes to life. A softened interpretation, an almost singer-songwriter tone but with that electrified, amplified thrill that made Brat such a staggering moment. Charli XCX aims for a mockery of those who live frivolously and materialistically. The trouble with that is it doesn’t always read as such.
Card Declined nails the consumerist culture now dominating modern art, but the preceding Rock Music relishes the opportunity to be in such a creative field, bankrolled by affluent relatives and realistically not needing to succeed. Running the risk of replicating Brat is at the forefront of Music, Fashion, Film, and it prevents Charli XCX from running with these criticisms of modern creativity. She has appeared in film, in music, and through fashion, but doesn’t feel like she has a permanent claim to any of it. Shallow explorations of the recent past mean nostalgia takes its toll on Music, Fashion, Film. Autobiographical music only works when a point is being made. Camera notes Charli XCX is entertaining the idea of film stardom and feels ridiculous doing so at 33. There’s no further perspective to it, and what else there is can be gauged from a pitiful but powerful Substack post she made last year about the concept of musician as a block to further artistic pursuit.
No creative can get away with one specialisation anymore. Actors must direct, comedians must sing, musicians must maintain a presence in the social circles that keep them in work. Music, Fashion, Film sounds solid in parts but feels more like listening to a networking event, and not all of it sounds critical of this public relations perception of art. It’s a tool to meet new people, not an output for sincerity. A reaction not to Brat or even the arts industry but to what Charli XCX has experienced. She has now jumped the shark. Those who thought The Moment did that are proven wrong. That was just testing whether skis would stick the landing. Having nothing to do with Brat and yet inevitably being in its shadow and commenting on the post-success hype is a difficult spot for any artist, but everything featured here can be gauged from Charli XCX’s social media feed. Tame and underwhelming points made across an album with at least the occasional instrumental thrill. Yeah is decent for this but it’s too close in theme and style to that 2024 classic.
This whole breakdown of art and interpretation falls flat on Wink Wink. It’s the sort of thing Stewart Lee did on Basic Lee but with a little more nuance. It’s trying to be Pulp’s I Spy but without the sharp and smart allegories and metaphors needed. Charli XCX has rebranded herself as an artist whose coolness comes from the blunt edge. But it ruins the experience when you can process the information on a first listen and get nothing more from it on your inevitable return. It’s not the act of rebellious sex that offends, but the simple presentation of it. Charli XCX has written better than this pre-Brat. The materialistic effects of a fast-track to fame have taken their toll, inevitably so, and it offers not one moment of sincere reflection. It’s all lost and falls to pieces by the time 2007 rolls around, and from there it’s hard to offer much goodwill to her stance on art and its effect.
Art serves the artist, not the audience, appears to be the argument. As a premise, agreeable. In practice, awful. Wink Wink undoes all that momentum, and Persona doubles down on a reading that can be seen as egregious at best. The wheels come off Music, Fashion, Film pretty fast. Fashion is just an expression for Charli XCX to share her wealth, film the luxury she gets to make with the connections music got her. She may want to be an artist of multitudes, but to do so is to follow in the footsteps of greats before her. David Bowie had no trouble with all three; Bob Dylan had trouble with all three. Charli XCX must decide which avenue she’s set to follow, and what her purpose for each of these creative pursuits is. Passion project this is not. Reactionary process following the heights of fame is closer to what this album offers.
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