girl, so confusing
let's work it out on the remix
This summer stretches out in lowercase Arial, sprawling messily across neon nights with girl friends (with that little space in between). The music pulses loud, the club anthems reverberate through the heat and sweat. It’s the summer of ‘Brat’. Slime green, tears in the mirror, and moments of quiet introspection amidst chaotic partying.
Charli xcx’s ‘Brat’ album is the cultural storm that’s taken over this summer. Every flash of green, every glimpse of that blurry font, and I yell “brat” like a mantra. Charli has captured the spirit of the moment, and for once, I’m thrilled to be swept up in the trend. Always on the fringes, Charli has charmed a devoted fanbase without ever quite breaking into the mainstream – until now. Her latest work is a tipping point.
Charli has been a visionary in pop, crafting hyperpop gems with pioneers like A.G. Cook, EASYFUN, and the late Sophie Xeon. Her songs have always been catchy yet profound, her albums cohesive and sonically adventurous. With ‘Brat,’ it feels like she’s finally getting her due. It’s an album that plays out like a party girl’s diary, brimming with audacious club anthems. The singles – ‘Von dutch’, ‘Club classics’, ‘B2b’, and ‘360’ – showcase Charli at her most brazen. “It’s okay to admit that you’re jealous of me,” she declares with unshakeable confidence.
But there’s more to ‘Brat’ than its glittering surface. Woven into the album are introspective tracks that peel back the layers of that bold exterior – ‘I might say something stupid’, ‘Rewind’, and ‘I think about it all the time’. Among these, ‘Girl, so confusing’ stands out as a deeply reflective piece. Here, Charli contemplates how she’s perceived by another woman in the industry, someone who oscillates between friend and rival. It’s a painfully relatable song about the uncertainty of where you stand with someone, the tension between admiration and competition.
The internet, of course, buzzed with speculation. Lyrics like “You’re all about writing poems / But I’m about throwing parties” and “People say we’re alike / They say we’ve got the same hair” led many to believe that Charli was singing about her complex relationship with Ella Yelich-O’Connor, better known as Lorde.
The internet is no stranger to music feuds, a stage where tempests brew between titans like Taylor Swift and Katy Perry, or Kendrick Lamar and Drake. Yet, 'Girl, so confusing' stands as a different beast. Here, no razor-edged jabs flay the subject. Instead, the track unfurls Charli’s own insecurities, exposing a raw, trembling vulnerability. It is not an indictment but an introspection, a delicate probe into the labyrinthine complexities of a relationship.
Weeks after the album’s release, Charli unveiled a remix, this time featuring Lorde. 'Girl, so confusing version with Lorde' is a duet where verses are traded with a heart-wrenching candour, each line a testament to their shared understanding. Even before the album saw the light of day, Ella’s Instagram story proclaimed it the only album she had ever pre-saved, a gesture of deep admiration. She praised Charli, hinting that the song had been shared with her in the early stages, suggesting a potential collaboration from the start.
As listeners, we are left in the stasis of Charli’s original anxieties, forced to navigate the same speculative waters she once did. The subsequent release of the Lorde version offers a cathartic resolution, a poetic coda to the saga of confusion and clarity. The track shifts from a solitary lament into a shared narrative, closure not just for the audience, but for Charli and Ella themselves.
Charli shared a screenshot of messages exchanged between herself and Ella during the formative stages of the track. Ella's long paragraph, articulating her perspective on the situation, eventually found its way into the lyrics. Charli’s response, a relatable “Fucking hell,” mirrors the raw exchanges of twenty-first-century women. How many times have we had disagreements with friends, culminating in those lengthy iMessage confrontations? There is something achingly familiar in the dynamic between Ella and Charli, reflecting our own fraught yet heartfelt interactions. When I saw Ella’s response, the resonance was immediate and profound, capturing the universal nature of friendship's trials and tribulations.
I’ve been candid about my struggles with disordered eating and body image insecurities before. At my lowest, I was an abysmal friend — cancelling plans, wrapped in selfishness. Every woman became a rival in my subconscious battleground. Those effortlessly thin, those who ate without consequence, those who spoke without calculating every word — they were the worst. I loathed them, but some of them were my closest friends, ones I loved deeply. I remember the sick twist of satisfaction after seeing an unflattering photo of a friend online, thinking, “Ha! You’re not perfect.” It’s a shameful feeling, but who could blame me in a world that conditions us to see all women as competitors?
Ella’s verse made me feel seen in a way I’ve never experienced before. "I tried to starve myself thinner/ And then I gained all the weight back/ I was trapped in a hatred/ And your life seemed so awesome/ I never thought for a second/ My voice was in your head." These lyrics are gut-wrenchingly honest. When you’re this insecure, your competitors seem invincible. They become reflections of what you lack. Like Ella, I’ve cried over photos of myself with others, fearing every flaw would be scrutinised. Sometimes, social occasions seem nothing more than fodder for social media, and I wish to retreat from being perceived, feeling itchy in my own skin.
Her words made me contemplate the Charlis in my life. How many friendships have I sacrificed at the altar of my insecurity? How many have I unfairly placed on pedestals? Her verse was a revelation, a poignant reminder of my vulnerabilities.
One friendship haunts my memory. Envy draped over every conversation, every laugh. She was effortlessly beautiful, the kind that turns heads and hushes rooms, with an ethereal coolness that felt unreachable. When we first met, I didn’t expect us to click, but we did, fast and hard. We became inseparable. Yet, the relentless buzz of overthinking tainted every interaction.
Her circle of friends, just as cool and stunning, only magnified my feelings of inadequacy. I pulled away, seeking refuge in the comfort of other friendships. The regret gnaws at me, a dull but constant ache. Maybe someday, I’ll muster the courage to ask her out for a drink, a hesitant attempt to bridge the chasm of what could have been.
Even my romantic relationships have suffered. As someone who has dated women, it’s a cruel irony to find oneself both enamoured and threatened by the same person. The line between wanting to be them and wanting to be with them blurred into an indistinguishable haze. How can a relationship succeed when the foundation is riddled with comparison? It can’t, and so they crumbled, one after another.
My relationship with my mother could easily be seen through the lens of Charli and Lorde’s dynamic. Like many mothers and daughters, we don’t just coexist; we clash and collide, a constant push and pull. We inhabit the same spaces, her presence a mirror reflecting both what I aspire to and what I fear becoming. How can I capture some of her strength, her grace? How can I break free from her shadow? It’s rare to hear daughters confess jealousy towards their mothers, often overshadowed by the more familiar tune of mothers mourning lost youth.
Sometimes I see her as a superior version of myself: wiser, more socially adept, more beautiful. Her experience intimidates me, a reminder of the potential I’m unsure I can fulfil. She stands firm, while I am a wild river, rushing and restless, morphing rapidly in ways that make me feel unsteady and insecure.
“It’s just self-defence, until you’re building a weapon.” What begins as defensiveness and protectiveness becomes a blade to cut those we wish to love. In the end, it’s a matter of disarming ourselves and embracing connection.
It's rare that rivalries like this transcend the tabloids and actually result in art. This isn’t about performative brand management like so many other popstars. It feels real and raw, like we’ve been let in on something beautiful and secret. Charli and Ella have reclaimed the narrative, channelling their energy to strip power away from media outlets that twist words and stir up drama. It’s new and exciting, fresh breath in a stifling room.
At my core, I am a cynic. Perhaps this collaboration was merely a calculated move to capitalise on the internet’s insatiable speculation. Charli and Lorde could be more business rivals than friends, guided by teams who saw an opportunity to break the internet. And indeed, the internet did “go crazy.” But I find I don’t even care. In a world where everything bends towards money and fame, where authenticity often feels like a relic of the past, I need to clutch any piece of art that resonates close to my heart.
BRAT SUMMER FOREVER!!! thank you for reading. this is a little bit different to what i normally post on here, but i hope you enjoy it anyway.
also! digital girlfriend recently surpassed 150 subscribers. what the fuck. that’s actually crazy. thank you very much to each and every one of you for subscribing. i hope you’ve enjoyed what i’ve had to say thus far. the fact that people actually want to read the stuff i write is kind of insane.
much love,
eve xoxo
loved reading ur thoughts on this!! the parts ab dating women and being both enamored and threatened by them was so well put. 💚
beautifully written as always