(noun and adjective) A cultural phenomenon inspired by the music of Charli XCX, connotative of a laissez-faire attitude and hedonistic lifestyle
What did this year’s race for the most powerful office on earth have in common with a sweaty rave off the UK’s M25 motorway? In 2024 — and perhaps only in 2024 — the two were closely intertwined, indelibly marked by brat.
The question for those over the age of 25: what exactly is brat? In the first instance, it is the title of Charli XCX’s Grammy nominated sixth album, released in June. But to confine brat to 15 tracks of buzz-saw synths and pulsating basslines encouraging you to unleash your inner “365 party girl” is to do it a disservice.
According to the British pop star, brat is “a vibe”. In the year of a vibes-based US election, it offered an unexpected glimmer of hope to blue America: Charli’s resounding endorsement of Kamala Harris with the tweet “kamala IS brat” briefly reinvigorated a struggling Democrat campaign. Harris HQ’s wholehearted embrace of the album’s lurid green cover and aggressive hyperpop, spliced with memeable one-liners in 10-second TikToks, promised to be a Gen-Z rallying cry. For a moment, it seemed as though Harris was in the throes of a brat summer, enjoying a heady, bravado-filled few months. Alas, come November, vibes failed to turn into votes.
The overwhelming success of the album and its accompanying aesthetic may instead herald the return of recession pop, dance music from the 2000s and 2010s characterised by unyielding optimism in the face of financial hardship (as Pitbull and Ne-Yo’s 2014 classic goes, “This is the last 20 dollars I got but I’ma have a good time ballin’ tonight”). Reeling from the cost of living crisis, brat is Gen Z’s remedy to society’s pathologies. Who cares about mounting student debt and an unforgiving job market when, according to brat, all it takes to have a good time is a “pack of cigs, a Bic lighter and a strappy white top”?