BRAT as Brutalist Ethics: A Critical Tantrum

BRAT isn't just a regression to Y2K nostalgia, but actually the perfect contemporary musical expression of brutalist ethics in pop music. Theoretical departure: Kantian taste, Brutalism.

footage from a concert by rave collective Gãy. Read more about Nhac Gay here.

On Kantian Taste (A Very Brief Primer)

When we talk about "taste"¹ in aesthetics, we're often unknowingly channeling Immanuel Kant. His notion of taste presupposes a universal standard of beauty that transcends personal opinion—one that values harmony, refinement, and "disinterested pleasure."²

Kantian taste demands art be "beautiful" in a way that pleases universally. It's why people instinctively recoil at BRAT's lime green assault on the senses. The aggressively minimal typography. Those blurry, unfiltered selfies.

But what if tastelessness itself is the point?

Brutalist Ethics: A Three-Point Manifesto

Before we attempt anything brat, let’s preface what architectural brutalism actually stands for. Reyner Banham defined brutalist ethics through three principles³:

1. Memorability as an image

Not beautiful, but striking. Impossible to ignore. Resistant to being forgotten or dismissed.

2. Clear exhibition of structure

No hiding of structural elements. What supports the building is visible, not concealed behind decorative facades.

3. Valuation of materials 'as found'

Materials presented in their raw state. Concrete staying concrete, not pretending to be something else.

These weren't just aesthetic choices but ethical positions against commercialized, sanitized architecture.

BRAT'S "TASTELESSNESS" AS INTENTIONAL ETHIC

Let's be clear: BRAT is NOT trying to be tasteful. And that's precisely the point.

When Kant talks about taste, he's obsessed with this universal standard of beauty that transcends personal opinion. How utterly boring! What Charli XCX understands – what brutalism has always understood – is that there's power in rejecting polished aesthetics.

Remember what Banham said about brutalism? It's not about beauty – it's about "the valuation of materials for their inherent qualities 'as found.'" BRAT takes the raw materials of pop music – the synths, the beats, the simple lyrics about partying and jealousy – and presents them in their rawest form. No apologies. No pretty packaging.

"Von dutch" doesn't attempt to disguise its aggressive synths with radio-friendly production. The revving sounds hit you in the gut like concrete architecture hits your eyeballs – immediate, unflinching, memorable as an image.

And honestly? In an age of algorithm-optimized Spotify girly pop fodder designed to fade into the background during your workday, isn't that refreshing?

BRAT'S ETHICAL HONESTY & QUEER CLUB REALITY

But wait – what if BRAT's seeming tastelessness is actually the most honest thing in pop music right now?

Let's be crystal clear here: BRAT isn't just any pop album that I'm retrofitting with brutalist theory. It's specifically a raw, queer, club album that embodies brutalist ethics in its very DNA.

The sweaty Bushwick warehouse where she debuted "Von dutch" wasn't an accident – it was a declaration. While Sabrina Carpenter is serving us meticulously calculated "relatable" sexuality with "Espresso" and "Please Please Please," Charli is giving us the unfiltered queer club experience – the place where brutalist aesthetics have always thrived.

footage from @Arcan (unfortunately closed) and @bunglon

Queer club spaces have always valued what Banham called the "warehouse aesthetic" – exposed pipes, concrete walls, visible structural elements. These spaces reject the conventional beauty standards of mainstream venues in favor of raw experiences and authentic connection. BRAT sonically recreates this environment with its harsh synths and unprocessed vocals.⁴

Mould talks about how brutalism creates "relational monumentality"⁵ – how these structures establish relationships between people, spaces, and power. The lime green BRAT aesthetic isn't just a color choice; it's establishing a new relationship between pop star and audience based on the authentic queer club experience.

"Oh, I'm just like you! I'm so authentic and relatable!"

Please. While Taylor Swift carefully curates her "relatable girl next door" image and Olivia Rodrigo perfects her "authentic heartbreak," Charli isn't selling authenticity; she's selling artifice that's honest about being artifice. "I might say something stupid" literally warns you that what follows might be dumb, and then delivers a crushing truth about feeling like "the least famous person at the party."

Like brutalist architecture that exposes its structure rather than hiding it behind decorative elements, BRAT exposes the machinery of pop stardom. The jealousy in "Sympathy is a knife." The ambivalence about motherhood in "I think about it all the time." The competitive female friendships in "Girl, so confusing."

BRAT is the sonic equivalent of those unfinished concrete surfaces in brutalist buildings – textured, imperfect, showing the marks of its making. This is brutalism's "clear exhibition of structure" – showing the beams and pipes that other pop stars try to hide behind inspirational platitudes.

And here's my question: In a world of artifice, isn't BRAT's honesty actually more ethical than pretending?

BRAT AS CULTURAL INTERVENTION

So what happens when we take BRAT seriously as brutalist ethics?

Banham described brutalism as having a certain "bloody-mindedness" – a ruthless, uncompromising quality. BRAT has that in spades. It's a deliberate intervention against what Pitchfork- calls "the focus-grouped monotony of playlist-fodder pop." ⁶

To understand BRAT's intervention, we need to look at its contemporaries. Consider Sabrina Carpenter's "Short n' Sweet" – an album that's been meticulously focus-grouped to appear spontaneous. Every "quirky" lyric, every "casual" music video moment is actually the result of careful calculation. It's like those luxury condos with fake exposed brick walls – a simulation of rawness that's actually anything but.

Or look at Billie Eilish's recent work – the whispered vocals, the carefully calibrated vulnerability. It's beautiful, sure, but it's a curated beauty that hides its machinery beneath a veneer of authenticity.

BRAT, by contrast, is the architectural equivalent of Centre Pompidou in Paris – putting all its pipes and ducts on the outside of the building. Nothing is hidden; everything is exposed.

Like brutalist buildings that force confrontation with their environments, BRAT forces confrontation with pop conventions. "Mean girls" isn't just the first major-label pop song inspired by the Red Scare podcast; it's a deliberate challenge to the "Relatable Era" that demands pop stars be role models.

In our current landscape where every piece of media must come with a moral lesson, isn't there something radical about an album that just... exists? That presents women's experiences – the jealousy, the FOMO, the pettiness – without apologizing or wrapping them in empowerment rhetoric?

This is brutalism's "memorability as an image" – creating something so striking, so distinctive, that it cannot be ignored or assimilated. BRAT doesn't want to be background music. It demands engagement, even if that engagement is disgust.

CONCLUSION

What's fascinating is that brutalism began as a rejection of commercialized aesthetics, yet its principles have now been used to create one of the most commercially successful albums of the year. BRAT topped the UK charts. The lime green is everywhere. The "anti-aesthetic" has become THE aesthetic.

But perhaps that's the ultimate brutalist victory. As Mould notes, brutalist buildings were initially derided as "aggressive" and "imposing," only to be celebrated as heritage architecture decades later. BRAT, with its harsh synths and unapologetic attitude, may be experiencing the same trajectory in hyperspeed.

This has implications beyond just one pop album. When I look at social media in Vietnam today, I see a generation caught between the polished, sanitized aesthetics of K-pop influence and the raw, unfiltered energy of underground scenes in Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City. Our emerging musicians and artists face the same questions: Do you polish your work until it's palatable for mass consumption, or do you embrace a brutalist ethic that values rawness over refinement?

So the next time someone dismisses Charli XCX's BRAT as tasteless, remind them that taste was never the point. BRAT isn't trying to be beautiful – it's trying to be true. And in a pop landscape built on lies, isn't that the most radical aesthetic of all?

And if you disagree, well…

"It's okay to just admit that you're jealous of me.


Reviewer: @tú

1. Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Judgment (1790). Kant defines taste as "the faculty of estimating an object or a mode of representation by means of a delight or aversion apart from any interest."

2. "Disinterested pleasure" refers to Kant's idea that true aesthetic judgment must be free from personal interest or utility.

3. Banham, Reyner. "The New Brutalism" in The Architectural Review (1955). Banham was the first to codify brutalism's ethical principles beyond mere aesthetics.

4. Halberstam, Jack. In a Queer Time and Place (2005). Discusses how queer spaces often develop in opposition to mainstream architectural conventions.

5. Mould, Oliver. "Brutalism Redux: Relational Monumentality and the Urban Politics of Brutalist Architecture" (2017). Discusses how brutalist structures establish relationships between people, spaces, and power.

6. Fisher, Mark. Capitalist Realism (2009). Explores how authentic "rawness" is often simulated within commercial cultural products.