CD Review: Charli XCX – “How I'm Feeling Now” (2020)

There is a certain trend, and one that I’ve been guilty of especially, where every new album released since March has been dubbed as being the perfect way to pass the time during the quarantine. Albums that have explored our drive for deeper emotion and longing to be with loved ones have become a dime a dozen, and you can’t help but feel that now as you sit, lonely, waiting for the world to snap back into place. It’s started to reshape itself, but scientists suggest that we’re far from the end, that there is no reason to give up all of the despair just yet. Still, it’s a time where most of us need to become insular, turning to media as this stimulant to guide us. Music just happens to feel the most predictive because it’s the most personal, reflective of a singular experience. A blanket statement of love can mean something different to everyone.

And what do artists do in a pandemic but create? It doesn’t take much effort to find that with an endless supply of downtime, everyone has left their stamp on this moment. It’s a strange time, and hopefully, one that will never be repeated again. Why not do everything in your power to capture it in amber, preserving it as an emotional recognition of this moment? Sure most will stick to doing bland COVID-19 song parodies, but those who reach in and find some deeper meaning are likely to be the most timeless voices, servicing as a valuable tool in our cultural archives.

That is what makes Charli XCX’s “How I Feel Right Now” a terrific force of nature. I’ve reviewed several records, finding tonal parallels to the modern ennui but in reality, they’re coincidental. We create an association in our heads. Not with Charli XCX. The British singer has become one of the first to create a vital album while cooped up in quarantine. With exception to one song (“Party 4 U”) all 11 songs were written and recorded within the span of weeks. There was a deadline hanging over this album, meaning that whatever she came up with would have to be ready. Who cared if it was polished and radio-friendly? 

On one hand, this means that the album has a rushed feel. Even at its best, this is the sound of someone scraping together every tool that they have at their disposal. The audio mix is manic, with her voice being charged through electropop filters and the melodies often being made up of blips and bloops. Over 37 minutes, she swings for the fences and gives us an album that is unbridled, lacking literal outside forces to meddle with her production. Her only real resources were her producers and boyfriend who lived with her. This is a record so driven by impulsive desires that it can be lovely even when the distortion tears at your eardrum.

Then again, what do you expect from a singer who gained popularity in the echoic Icona Pop hit “I Don’t Care”?

More than anything on the album itself, “How I Feel Right Now” deserves to have some preservation thanks to how it was created. Even with the emotions of a woman being trapped by a pandemic running through every song (notably “Anthems”), she had the foresight to interact with her fans. As an artist, she has been transparent on Instagram and has shared her emotional struggles during these times. Even if she’s ultimately proud of having this album out in the world, she has mentioned on the social media platform that there is an emptiness, likely stemming from her lacking the ability to work on a project.

It helps that fans know how this album was born. Much like a pregnant woman updating her family during the trimesters, she proudly talked about her work and received feedback since the beginning While she ultimately had the final decision, it’s easy to see this as a record meant for fans to enjoy, as a chance to feel some normalcy in a time where nothing feels certain. I’m sure that they’ll be able to flip on “Claws” and recall what it used to sound like.

Frankly, the back story to the album for me is much more interesting than the album itself. It’s the least meticulous record I’ve reviewed, managing to feel like balls of energy more than fully formed songs. They shoot directly at you with a brutal precision that I more admire for its restlessness. I am not someone who loves the electropop sound all that much, so to hear it grinded through these digital filters is a personal adjustment. I can recognize that Charli XCX is talented (I’d be lying if I said that “Boom Clap” wasn’t a top tier pop song), but this is equal parts the most perfect expression of quarantine mentality and something that is terribly unpolished to a fault.

Things kick off right away with this fire rooted deep inside her. “Pink Diamond” is a song that on its surface sounds like your typical aggressive song. She sings “I just wanna go real hard” ad nauseum, either conjuring up the image of success or carnal knowledge, creating this lust that undeniably overwhelms the psyche for the rest of the song. While the title is pulled from an incident between Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, it’s about a very different kind of love. She wants to be a “pink diamond in the dark,” flawless and able to stand out in any circumstance.

Despite its innuendos, drawing comparisons to sexy cam girls in the first verse, the second takes time to reflect on how this isn’t just an act for attention. It’s desperation, of wanting to be seen by the world around her:

I'm online and I'm feeling so glamorous (Ah)

Watch me shine for the boys and the cameras (Hey)

In real life, could the club even handle us? (Uh)

The final line feels the cheekiest, connecting the act to the common fear that public gatherings will cause the spread of Coronavirus. In any other year, this brag would be an ego boost. In May of 2020, it’s a literal question about when we can get out of our houses. We’re tired of having this space, unable to reflect our human desires as more than public displays, as if at a zoo.

The remorse continues to carry throughout the next few tracks. “Forever” is a straightforward love song, reflecting her desire to be with her boyfriend until the end of time. The same can be said for the even catchier “7 Years,” which explores their relationship in even greater detail (“Seven years and it’s been you and I, always”). 

Again, these would seem quaint in any other context, but in the era of COVID-19, they have a deeper, more emotional drive. What is forever going to look like when tomorrow isn’t certain? There are these dreams that we have, recontextualizing our relationships and asking ourselves what value we’re bringing. Even if we’ve been together seven years, what trust will we have to get us through this awful period? The concept of vulnerability, of a workaholic known more for being outgoing, adds a tragedy to the album that is only undone by the digital ether that she’s created.

The album ultimately feels like she’s singing into a computer, hoping that the signals don’t get crossed on the way to whoever is on the other end. Whereas she used to be able to meet these people in the club, she now has to resort to the more impersonal internet means. Her electronic scratches replace personal cries. The distortion drowns her out as if echoing through a cavern made of wires and memory cards. The pulse goes crazy, as if from the restraint that she’s stuck in. The whirlwind of sound elevates the familiar angst and loneliness into something that combines human emotion with digital reassurance. It’s how most of us are hearing Charli XCX right now, even if her Instagram videos probably have cleaner audio.

This is complemented by songs likes “Detonate,” which finds her growing worried about the intimacy in her life. Where she starts the album wanting to go real hard and please others, she is now contemplating what is keeping her sane, if this quarantine is bringing out too many negative feelings. There’s passion, but there’s also a concern. Is she still worth everything after dating for seven years? After all, the seven year itch became a trope for a reason. In the second verse she claims:

My emotions get blue

Had to push 'em all through

Know you hope that I'll prove

Everything will stay cool

But I can't promise that's true

'Cause my emotions so blue

It’s a potent statement, reflecting the doubt that exists alongside her drive. We all face it as our daily lives are upset by obstacles. We’re cooped up, unable to give ourselves the space that we often need. The choice to accept that sometimes it’s your own fault makes Charli XCX sound more mature, reflecting the give and take nature of relationships, and the sacrifice she needs to make to keep the love alive, especially in a time when it’s hard to recognize the good in the world.

The back half is where most of the exciting, most experimental moments happen. “C2.0” finds her being lead into the song by a voice digitally altered, turning its sonic pitches into a speech that is hypnotic. You have to listen carefully, trying to understand its meaning, already showing how her message is being altered by her surroundings. She explores the parts of her clique that used to bring her joy, now making her cry as she realizes that the simple feeling of belonging is something she can’t have:

White sheets, you and me used to lay close

Blue summer, sittin' high in the window

Phone calls every night, had a new glow

My clique running through my mind like a rainbow

Whether for the sake of nostalgia or for personal optimism, the song has this charming effect that continues into “Anthems,” which feels so designed to be on the greatest hits album for this pandemic, whether it’s lines like “All my friends are invisible” or “I just wanna go to parties,” she captures the urge that we all face. At this moment, she transcends her own deeper longing and finds the perfect subject for this electropop record: getting things back to normal. This is how she feels right now:

I'm so bored (Woo)

Wake up late, eat some cereal

Try my best to be physical

Lose myself in a TV show

Staring out to oblivion

Who’s to say that we all don’t have some of that in us? She wraps in everything about the party girl image with that. She mentions “I’m gassed up like I’m Texaco,” and desires to get out there and party. “These days are exhausting,” she says, and you can’t blame her. The song ends with the most optimistic of sentiments:

Finally, when it's over

We might be even closer, uh, uh

As the album comes to an end, she continues to want to have “Visions” in her head, reminding herself of better days. The sound builds, like a digital version of The Beatles’ “A Day in the Life,” where the sonic cloud overwhelms until the final noise is heard. It’s something resembling an alarm clock. Has she been asleep this whole time? Maybe we all have. What this ultimately symbolizes is the moment we’re waiting for, when everything has been reenergized and the world will gift us with normalcy that we so greatly desired.

As a mood, it’s easy to love what this album achieves. Everything about Charli XCX’s lyrics has this cerebral universality to them. While they arguably can be construed as regular pop hits in any other given year, in 2020 they feel crucial to how we’re feeling with our uncertain futures. I give her credit for making something so masterful in a matter of weeks (she even made the music video “Claws” largely on her green screens). Without much time to self-edit, this is the clearest view of a conscience that we’re likely to get with quarantine-based media. This is ground zero for a new era of pop music, where the artists are transparent in every way. That used to mean just admitting when they’re sad. But now it means having fans help shape how the album sounds. Considering how much desire we have to be together right now, it’s not a terrible way to pass the time.