When I first saw the cover art for Charli XCX’s Brat, I was repulsed. That lime-green backdrop? The low-resolution Arial font? It was just too much. And then I realized that the ugliness was part of its bizarre appeal. I’m old enough to remember when internet graphics looked like the Brat cover not as some sort of aesthetic statement, but because every JPEG was being compressed and reposted until the image quality got completely degraded. It wasn’t cute back then; it just looked bad. But many younger listeners who weren’t fully conscious during the aughties are currently feel a sense of longing for the visual trappings of that era, Shrek colors and all. Technically, that sensation is called “anemoia,” a nostalgia for a time you never knew. I feel no such draw; I like it when text has serifs, and I prefer my pop packaged in colors that don’t look like bile.
But I can admit that the album itself is amazing. It’s fun as hell, giving the club queen a chance to showcase the full extent of her skills. Charli is operating at such a high level of pop music artistry that the grotesque packaging almost reads like a flex: You don’t have to dress up tracks as good as these; just open Microsoft Paint, type a word, and presto! You’ve got yourself an album cover! When you’re this talented — and also “really hot in, like, a scary way” — visuals don’t even matter. Instead, we can all just embrace the green and let the hyperpop smooth out our brains.
Suffice it to say I had a blast listening straight through the entire LP and deciding which zodiac sign corresponds to which song. Which Brat song are you be based on your sign? Charli herself is a Leo, which makes her “Club Classics.” Keep scrolling to find out your own assignment.
No, I never go home, don’t sleep, don’t eat
Just do it on repeat, keep (Bumpin’ that)
Aries is “365.” First sign of the zodiac, last track on the album! Y’all don’t stop: Aries just keeps going and going and going and going, then you loop back around to the beginning and do it all over again without pausing. You don’t even require chemical, um, enhancement to achieve this heightened state of Aries energy; it’s all natural. Until the windows crack, you’ll be bumpin’ that!
Around the halfway mark, this song starts sounding like the absolutely sublime backing track of, like, Level 17 in some ’90s video game — which is the pinnacle of musical achievement as far as I’m concerned. It’s something to play on repeat at the gym, if you’re into working out, or blast at the club if you’re more into gyrating under strobe lights. And why not both? You contain multitudes, and they all operate at maximum speed.
I think about it all the time
That I might run out of time
Taurus is “I Think About It All the Time.” Forget a biological clock — not every Taurus wants to have children, and some of y’all probably can’t imagine anything worse. But every Taurus is constantly aware of mortality, keenly attuned to the irrevocably ticking passage of time and opportunity. You’re a big thinker, and you can’t help but compare yourself to others to determine whether you’re content with your own position in life. You’re as stubborn and ambitious as any other Earth sign, but sometimes superficial markers of success can feel small to you. Your “career feels so small, in the existential scheme of it all.” You’re chasing a smiling-on-your-death-bed sense of satisfaction from your life pursuits; external assurances of your value simply can’t sate your craving for meaning.
You said she’s problematic and the way you say it, so fanatic
Think she already knows that you’re obsessed
Gemini is “Mean Girls.” Gemini likes to stay up gossiping all night, and Gemini loves a sharp-tongued bitch of any gender. Y’all are the tearing-shit-apart sign, and for better or worse, you appreciate and occasionally encourage that quality in others. You stay “out there.” But the real reason “Mean Girls” belongs to Gemini isn’t even the lyrical content: it’s that freakin’ piano! When the piano break comes in with that rollicking, oddly wholesome riff and then mixes chaotically but cohesively back in with the beat and lyrics, it creates a perfectly appealing mess. A mix of disparate elements that shouldn’t work together but do? That just screams Gemini.
When I’m on stage sometimes I lie
Say that I love singing these songs you left behind
And I know you always said, “It’s okay to cry”
So I know I can cry, I can cry
Cancer is “So I.” I really don’t understand why Cancer gets a crybaby reputation amongst the signs of the zodiac. In my experience of knowing Cancers, y’all usually stay stoic in the presence of company. Other people cry to you, and the ocean that is your emotional capacity soaks it up, up, and up, and still holds room for more. You may not break down in public, but holy shit, can you feel. Sometimes you need someone else to be the bigger vessel and hold you so that you can let the enormity of those emotions escape somewhere safe. Regardless of whether that sense of security is available to you, it doesn’t matter what any other dumbass thinks. It is truly okay to cry, and when you need to — especially when it’s the only way to grieve someone you miss — you should let go and do it.
Yeah, I wanna dance to me, me, me, me, me
When I get to the club, club, club, fuck, fuck, fuck (fuck yeah)
“Leo” is “Club Classics.” Charli XCX is a Leo Sun Sign, which beams all throughout this album, but if we’re breaking it down into twelve distinct astrological assignations, “Club Classics” has got to be Leo. Y’all are already the attention-snatching superstar of the zodiac. If you’re going to bother to hit the club in the first place, why shouldn’t you become an internationally renowned dance music genius and shake your shit to the pulse of your own compositions? We all want to hear those club classics, and we all want to see what Leo’s bringing to the floor. You always serve, and besides, self-interest isn’t narcissistic when literally everyone is obsessed with you! Stay shiny, legends.
I don’t wanna share the space
I don’t wanna force a smile
This one girl taps my insecurities
Don’t know if it’s real or if I’m spiraling
Virgo is “Sympathy Is a Knife.” Virgos are a conundrum. The framework of your personality is an unshakable, near-godlike aura of self-assurance, which is internally fueled by a sense of overwhelming, largely imagined insecurity. You feel absolutely confident in moments of confrontation with others — it’s so easy, they’re simply wrong — but when nobody’s immediately challenging you, your brain tries to keep you prepped for potential disaster by convincing you that you’re doomed To be honest, you don’t love it! But you like it even less when anybody notices. Pity is the cruelest consolation anyone could offer a Virgo, and appropriately for a sign full of neurotic perfectionists, this track is a masterpiece. That title and chorus? Pure pop poetry.
Talk to me in French, talk to me in Spanish
Talk to me in your own made-up language
Doesn’t matter if I understand it
Talk right in my ear
Tell me your secrets and fears
Libra is “Talk Talk.” Libra’s imagination is too powerful. If you’re dealing with someone, they have to level with you and articulate what they feel. Otherwise you’re prone to write whole thousand-page novels in your mind, ascribing motives and divining meanings that may or may not actually exist. Libras often hesitate to make the first move, certainly not in every situation, but unfortunately often when it’s emotionally important, Instead, you attempt to psychically will the subject of your fascination to approach you. Then you act nonchalant, which fools your crush into believing that you don’t care, or worse, don’t even like them. Your system of flirting is frankly bizarre. It’s lucky that you’re so pretty!
Semi-related shout-out: the title of this bop reminds me of a banger from my own reckless youth, electroclash icon Peaches’ 2009 argument invitation, “Talk to Me.” Scream at the rest of us for just one night, Libra, please!
It’s alright to just admit that I’m the fantasy
You’re obsessin’, just confess it ’cause it’s obvious
I’m your number one, I’m your number one
I’m your number one, yeah, I’m just livin’ that life
Scorpio is “Von Dutch.” Scorpios live high off the hate, baby! If everybody liked you, then it wouldn’t mean so much when the best, most discerning people find you appealing, you know? You’re a cult classic kind of person. Scorpios inspire strong feelings across the entire spectrum of emotion, and disapproval from the right (or wrong?) people is perhaps even more delightful to the average Scorp than devoted affection. You take attention as your due and receive so much of it that you don’t really notice unless it amuses you, which it often does when they get mad. Other people’s secrets sit openly on their faces to be read at leisure when you’re paying attention — and when you’re in the mood, you are literate. Thriving in the face of ill wishes is fun, especially when you earned the ire by just casually living your life.
Feels like you never understand me
So I just wanna drive to the airport
Sagittarius is “Apple.” This song sounds bright and breezy while also bursting at the seams with a staggering and ultimately reasonable sensation of angst. Basically, “Apple” is a sonic representation of the Sagittarian experience. Feelings suck, especially painful ones. Fear and anger suffuse Sag with a physical urge to flee, preferably in a speedy vehicle. When generational trauma causes worry and ache deep inside a Sagittarian’s core, you know exactly what you need to do: drive, drive, drive all night, to the air-pOrT! 🎶 You need to be in motion to think, and you need some distance from your problems to sort them out — or just ignore them, until they hopefully magically disappear. Everybody knows where Sag goes when you’re feeling alone — away, preferably far away, at perpetual velocity so no one can pin you down.
I’m tectonic, moves, I make ’em
Shock you like defibrillators
No style, I can’t relate
I’ll always be the one, ah
Capricorn is “360.” Capricorn opens the calendar year, and Capricorn’s song opens Brat. You’re “lookin’ like an icon” because, well, you are. You’re “internationally recognized.” Your “legacy is undebated.” If people love it, if people hate it, Cap doesn’t care what they think… because you know you set the tone, it’s your design. Capricorn is everywhere because there’s always work to do, and nobody else in the zodiac works harder than Cap. As the track’s accompanying music video states, “it’s about being really hot in, like, a scary way.” Capricorn has got that vibe on lock!
Gabbriette, the skinny-eyebrowed Charli compatriot who utters that statement about being scary hot in the video, was the lead vocalist for Nasty Cherry. I listened to their singles all the time in 2019 and never realized until this week that they had anything to do with Charli XCX and were, in fact, deliberately assembled during the course of her one-season Netflix documentary I’m With the Band: Nasty Cherry. (What can I say? I am not a Capricorn, and am sometimes slightly oblivious to such things.) Anyway, their stuff ruled and the repeating “I need to I need to” mantra of Nasty Cherry’s debut song “Win” is also extremely Capricorn-coded.
Bad tattoos on leather-tanned skin
Jesus Christ on a plastic sign, mm
Aquarius is “Everything is Romantic.” A glance at the title of this track wouldn’t immediately suggest Aquarian appeal, but then you hit play and realize it’s everything Aquarius holds close. This song is so weird. It beautifully captures the eccentric minutiae that make the Aquarian heart swell. The little grunt of pleasure Charli emits at the thought of bad tattoos and tacky religious iconography perfectly captures your adoration for unnoticed instances of ugliness… which is noble, honestly! What could make life sweeter than an appreciation for the awkward in-between details that most people would attempt to crop out of their photos? An aggressive beat over swelling strings, all combined with jarringly distorted vocals is enough to make Aquarius fall in love again and again. “Everything is. Oh!”
Guess I’m a mess and play the role
Used to live just for the party, door is open
I’m famous but not quite
Pisces is “I Might Say Something Stupid.” Nobody does melancholy at the party like Pisces! You’re charming and gorgeous, you make everyone laugh… and then you’re struck with a wave of existential dread that makes you feel as if you’re completely disconnected and the entirety of humanity is partaking in a ludicrous farce of normalcy that you simply can’t stomach for another second. You “don’t feel like nothin’ special,” even though you obviously always are. You’re just tired and your social battery has run out! The sudden ending of this song represents the moment when Pisces departs the gathering without saying goodbye to anybody and takes a long walk home alone through the park.
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