FEATURE Caught in the Middle: Lessons Learned from Charli Charli XCX’s beautiful irony and contradictions
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n eighth grade, I made that essential leap of middle-school identity formation: declaring war against the Top 40 and hoarding “obscure” artists that no one else is allowed to like. Charli XCX was a central part of that process. A friend who spent her free time making playlists with names like “flowers & stargazing” and “ugh” had introduced her to me. Her debut album True Romance (2013), a synth-pop-punk hybrid whose cover depicts her wearing ripped black jeans and hugging her knees to her chest, made her an ideal addition to my list of artists because it was 1) self-consciously emo, 2) about romantic experiences I had never had, and thus 3) far cooler than I was. I bought it on vinyl (the record player was another critical part of this identity formation, naturally), closed my bedroom door, and blasted it so loud my parents yelled at me from the living room to turn it off. Along with other artists I accumulated, she made me feel like my sense of difference from “popular” or “normal” peers was a potential personality trait instead of just a neurosis — a point of potential pride instead of shame and embarrassment. It’s ironic, then, that at a Charli show six years after I first listened to her, I felt that I was too conventional instead of too different. In a sea of purple highlights, dramatic, thick, black eyeliner, and more mesh clothing than I’d seen in one place since 2006, I found myself entirely out of place in the
True Romance (2013) was 1) self-consciously emo, 2) about romantic experiences I had never had, and thus 3) far cooler than I was. 4
NOVEMBER 2019 SWARTHMORE REVIEW
small, general-admission Philly concert venue. It was clear that this concert had a large presence from bonafide ‘Angels,’ her vocally LGBT-predominant and affirming fan base that is ferociously supportive of her music and her collaborators on social media. The line to buy merchandise for the show’s opener, nonbinary artist Dorian Electra, extended from the lobby into the main stage area. Some of the audience members were in drag, some with hair dyed bright colors, others with elaborate costumes. Glittery face stickers and metallic blue leggings distinguished those who aimed to emulate the electropop vibes of her most recent music, in particular her album Charli, released on Sep. 19. My outfit, a white tank top and cargo pants that I had taken an hour to choose, embarrassed me in comparison. It seemed so transparently copied from current trends, so lacking of any sense of identity. I was certain that the drag queen wearing a transparent top and 5-inch pumps to my left probably had more personality in one painted toe than I had in my entire body. There’s no way you can put on a highlighter-yellow wig, plastic top and checkered pumps if you aren’t pretty damn confident. Even the Plaid Flannel Dudes (present at every small concert venue on the East Coast) looked more sure of themselves than I felt. It turns out, however, that my feeling of being caught uncomfortably between the conventional and the iconoclastic was fitting for this show. Since I started listening to her, Charli has moved from the fringes into a more precarious position. She is “one of the few artists who has a foothold on both mainstream Top 40 world and the more left-of-center underground world,” as she recently told “Pitchfork”. She made her name writing and featuring in chart-toppers like Icona Pop’s #1 hit “I Love It” and Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy,” and she’s recorded some of her own hits as well, such as “Boom Clap,” which was part of the original soundtrack for “The
