RAMBLE ON: "1999" by Charli XCX feat. Troye Sivan

I really ought to like Charli more than I do. 

It’s cool to like Charli XCX, cooler than not liking Charli, at least. Charli is cool. She exudes coolness from her pores, or she would if she does normal things like sweat, which I’m not sure she does. Charli XCX is at the forefront of a newish phenomenon that I saw someone at Slate call “beta pop” (we will not be calling it that, awful name). In short it’s just any pop singer who’s won more hearts than streams (i.e. Janelle Monae, Solange, St. Vincent, Grimes). Any indiehead was already familiar with this concept but it’s a relatively recent development in pop, where for most of its history you either had the hits or you didn’t. The melding of the pop and indie spheres in the 2010s erased those distinctions, allowing people like Charli XCX to thrive without really having hits. Pitchfork dubbed Charli XCX the “pop star of the future” last year, which is kind of laughable. Somewhere along the line Charli passed up the path of mainstream stardom; she’ll probably keep being famous but her biggest chart hits are probably behind her. Besides, people have been calling Charli the “pop star of the future” since 2014. She’s the Dippin’ Dots of pop stars.

I get it, certainly. Charli XCX certainly has the charisma of a much more famous artist. (Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy” was a hit solely off of Charli’s delivery of “Tokyo.) I don’t know what caused this divide between the mainstream and “beta pop” (seriously someone come up with a better name for this), I don’t get why Lana Del Rey gets put into one category and Billie Eilish another. But Charli clearly knows which side she falls on. She may have begun her career collaborating with the likes are Rita Ora and Iggy Azalea, but the featuring credits on her third album “Charli” showed who she thinks her peers are now: Haim, Sky Ferreira, Kim Petras, Christine and the Queens, and of course Troye Sivan (a rare male example in the genre). 

But I doubt any of these artists would mind racking up hits either. Perhaps the dividing line is simply botched marketing. Carly Rae Jepsen’s beloved “Emotion” was hamstrung by leading off with “I Really Like You,” its weakest track. Similarly, “Charli” led off with “1999,” a song I can only consider a serious and terrible misstep. I don’t think that’s the most popular opinion, from what I can tell most critics liked it. But it certainly did nothing to put her back in the mainstream, despite its highly promoted video. I’m not surprised; I hated it upon first listen, and though my opinion on it has improved I still don’t consider it a good song. 

Making a song about 1999 seems like a ballsy move considering Prince already staked that claim long ago, but his 1999 was an apocalyptic future. The actual 1999 turned out nothing like that. It was a blockbuster year, especially in music, but the end of the world it was not. Here are some of 1999’s biggest hits: “Smooth.” “All-Star.” “You Get What You Give.” “Steal My Sunshine.” “Baby One More Time.” “All the Small Things.” “Every Morning.” “Livin’ la Vida Loca.” “Summer Girls.” In short, it’s one of the dumbest, gaudiest, happiest moments in history I can remember, and a glorious time to be a kid. Charli couldn’t have picked a better year.

The song itself is a little short on specific references, but the video fills in the gaps. Charli and Troye re-enact some of their favorite late ‘90s artifacts like “Waterfalls” and the Spice Girls and iMacs and Skechers and The Sims. These aren’t 1999 specifically, they fall between 1995 to 2000. That date range is significant. Signifiers from 2000 like “The Real Slim Shady” means it not just ‘90s nostalgia. It’s also not just Charli’s youth: Assuming she’s not lying about her age, Charli was 7 when the ‘90s ended, Troye even younger; their formative years came later and their memories of 1997 probably don’t include Titanic. The common thread of all these cultural touchstones is that they all rely on bright, cartoony colors, and they all stop right before 9/11, the moment when the color scheme of reality suddenly became much darker. The ‘90s weren’t actually all Beanie Babies and N64, but the misery of the following decades makes it hard to look back without rose-colored glasses. I suspect I remember the ‘90s better than Charli does, but if she thinks of 1999 as an idyllic time I say she’s dead on.

So why doesn’t it connect? Why did it immediately strike me as a failure? My first problem was I’ve been waiting for that ‘90s sound to make it a comeback, and it just hasn’t happened. “1999” surely isn’t it, it doesn’t sound a bit like the ‘90s. Its cold electro beat marks it closer to ‘80s synthwave than anything the Backstreet Boys ever made. But does that really matter? I can think of three more nostalgia songs like this: Aqua’s “Back to the ‘80s,” Bowling for Soup’s “1985,” Anne-Marie’s “2002.” I have differing opinions on all those songs but I’m not bothered that none of them sound like the era they’re singing about.

But “1999” isn’t just un-‘90s in sound, it’s also un- ‘90s in attitude. The nostalgia Charli is selling is not a cool one; the songs she remembers may be great but that’s not what she misses about them. She misses the vivid aesthetics and empty fluff of the ‘90s, childhood crushes on celebrities and stuff like that. To do this she has to reminisce about things that now look extremely dated and stupid; just on its own, the act of looking backwards makes you look kind of silly. And looking silly is a skill Charli no longer seems to possess.

Charli became a star off of her appearance in “Fancy,” whose video also recreated a colorful ‘90s classic, “Clueless.” But with the clarity of hindsight, I can say now: That video sucks. Its attention to detail is impressive but it just does not go with the song and it’s no fun to watch; the Candyland cinematography of “Clueless” could not clash more with that song’s DJ Mustard-y beats and Charli’s cold metallic voice. Charli’s not a robot – her biggest hit “Boom Clap” is also her most sentimental – but there’s always a sense that she’s striking a careful pose. It’s almost impossible to imagine her existing in the year of Sugar Ray.  

Perhaps this is what keeps her from the mainstream; she may remember “Baby One More Time” fondly but I doubt she’ll ever write anything that resembles it. Unlike a Gaga or even an Ariana (and certainly not a Britney) she seems unlikely to do anything messy or regrettable. Troye does sound more credibly wistful thinking back to JTT (and the image of a gay kid dressed like Slim Shady is the most loaded and interesting moment in either the song or video), but any chance he had of connecting is smashed by that hammering synth-bass. Aqua’s “Back to the ‘80s” is shamelessly just a list of ‘80s references and the band themselves borders on being a novelty act but despite that, or because of that, their nostalgia for the ‘80s felt a lot more real. I don’t want to suggest insincerity because I don’t know Charli in real life, perhaps she may honestly miss the ‘90s. But after a billion “only ‘90s kids remember” articles, “1999” just felt like shameless Buzzfeed-style pandering, a sad attempt to redo the same trick from “Fancy” and a betrayal of Charli’s strengths.

There were better songs on that album. “Gone” was the one the critics really loved, I didn’t go crazy over it but I did like it a lot better. There’s also a sort of sequel at the end of it, “2099,” again featuring Troye Sivan. I’m not sure it’s great either, it doesn’t have much of a hook, but I think 2099 is probably a better year for Charli’s aesthetic than 1999. If the new album is any indication, we won’t be seeing any crossover attempts like “1999” anytime soon, which is probably for the best. She’s the pop star of the future, after all; the past doesn’t suit her.