Charli XCX said it herself: “Goodbye forever, Brat summer”, bringing to a close the party-girl summer that had the internet in a chokehold after the release of her album in June. A month later, yet another re-release lands in our laps as she and Troye Sivan sell out arenas across the States with their Sweat tour. So, if Brat summer is over, why are we still hearing about it? Enter: Brat winter?

By now, I think most of us are at least slightly weary of the deluge of Brat-themed parties, products, and branding lurking around every corner. I was particularly struck by the overwhelmingly neon green Freshers’ Week that greeted me upon my arrival in Cambridge. The general commercialisation of music these days is, I think, what Brat represented perfectly – and, in all fairness, made no secret of (“If you love it, if you hate it, I don’t fucking care what you think”). Charli could hardly have been clearer, yet it still felt like a bit of a let-down when her H&M collaboration made it clear just how little she really does care.

In some ways, the album’s self-proclaimed unapologetic quality, through its meta lyrics (“I get money, you get mad because the bank’s shut”), lends it an introspection that seems to both welcome and defy criticism. But is this ‘reclaiming’ of tackiness just a little out of touch for a singer boasting a net worth of $10 million? However noble an artist’s intentions, it seems it’s ever a challenge to resist the allure of the high-profit, low-effort re-release. Brat and It’s the Same But… almost feels like it could just as well have been called Brat: Charli’s Version.

It would have been hard to miss the recent criticism levelled at Taylor Swift, namely for the periodic re-release of no fewer than 36 versions of her latest album, The Tortured Poets Department. This has opened up a wider conversation around the ethics of reissuing albums – not just because of its glaringly mercenary motivation, but also because of the way it disadvantages other artists. Many accused Taylor of monopolising the number one spot in the UK charts this June by tactically releasing a UK-exclusive version of TTPD the same week as Brat dropped. Charli had looked set to claim the spot before being overtaken. Though she fell victim to Taylor’s underhand chart-blocking tactics, it’s clear Charli is not above using similar methods for her own ends. Is this shamelessness a clever embodiment of the album’s hedonism? In other words, is it brat, or is it just bratty?

“I enjoyed it well enough as the backing track to my summer, but that’s where I think it is best left”

And the trickle-down effects of this are no small matter either. Speaking to friends trying to make it in the music industry, I’ve noticed their biggest frustration is nearly always the amount of time they have to spend on their social media, at the expense of their actual music. Crafting the perfect, view-grabbing, algorithm-outsmarting, viral-going TikTok video was not in the job description when they decided to follow their musical dreams. And yes, pursuing a career in music, as with most creative industries, has always been hard work, and the promotional side is always, frustratingly, the factor that determines success. But the micro-trendification of music through social media in particular has made it near impossible for smaller artists to break through the glass ceiling. It encourages a ruthless listenership that treats music as disposable, destined for the musical landfill of last year’s viral sounds.

Is there hope yet? While Brat may not have been the harbinger of reason it initially promised in this increasingly unforgiving music industry, it certainly parodied (whether or not intentionally) the TikTokification that has the industry in its grip – even if it did so by being a prime example of it. I enjoyed it well enough as the backing track to my summer, but that’s where I think it is best left. Let us leave Brat in 2024 and prepare ourselves for next summer’s musical phenomenon.