17 pop writers out here doing damage…

[Video]
[5.94]

Taylor Alatorre: Elvis Presley/The Clash/OutKast = iconoclasts become standards, e.g. “Dancing on My Own” in RS 500 Greatest; “Elvis moment” = Eminem c. 2000; “lyrics on your booby” = hip hop mode of dominance over male competitors/listener, but femme-coded; “Robyn on the beat” + muffled “hey!” chants = long tail of DJ Mustard; camera flashes as skeuomorphic e-fame; demographic triangulation as art/alchemy; “no one understands it” + “so carelessly” = indie aesthetic of insularity/self-sabotage, still necessary for branding/coping; cult of the child star = youth’s gravitational hold over memory, easily exploitable; 1994 = beginning of Robyn’s career, but also Max Martin’s, represented here by apprentice Cirkut; Scandinavia as pop/anti-pop breeding ground; my dad: “cross between Britney Spears/Kesha” = highest possible praise for Charli song; he doesn’t even know about “Till the World Ends” or “Die Young” remixes; conspicuous whiteness of collaborators + calculatedly ableist lyric video = winking at Dimes Square reactionary chic, though Benga is on “Von dutch” dubstep remix, and Robyn is Robyn; “pets/family” = emergent Millennial desires for domesticity, cf. “I think about it all the time”; Brat = niche pop stardom as crowdfunded perma-adolescence; Julia Fox in Uncut Gems + True Romance/”Ginseng Strip 2002″ = sublimated wish for Eternal 2013, i.e. pre-Ferguson/Gamergate -> future blueprint for Gen Z conservatism? I don’t see how I can hate from outside of the club – I can’t even get in!
[8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: “360” is the most complete Charli pop culture moment (and video) we’ve had in years, and “365” perfectly wraps up the confessional, raw moments of Brat in delightful, utter mess. The first time I listened to both, I couldn’t help but think to myself how incredible it is that Charli’s self-reference comes across as effortlessly cool rather than cloying or annoying. I must have spoken too soon, because this remix is awkward. Yung Lean and Robyn sound fine, but “360” removed from the iconic hook is, just, not Julia (ah-ah-ahhhhhh). “Dancing on My Own” is one my favorite songs of all time—yes, I have big feelings—yet that can’t prevent me from cringing a little bit when Robyn references it. Two extra points, though, for Robyn saying the words “email” and “booby.” 
[7]

Jonathan Bradley: In “360,” Charli XCX has one of her most compelling songs in years: sharp and hooky, drawing on the hyper-pop palette but translating it into reinvented, broad-appeal synth pop. It dispenses with one of the more frustrating tendencies she’s had throughout her career, which is to make concepts rather than songs. “Boys,” for instance, was about the idea of Charli making a song about boys rather than actually evoking love or affection; “1999” was about the idea of ’90s nostalgia rather than anything distinct about the era. The remix of “360″ (I won’t bother with the twee titles Charli’s used for Brat‘s various expansions) loses the focus and efficiency that makes the original so replayable and returns to concepts. It’s Charli with two more artists whose niche and highly online fanbases are noted for enthusiasm rather than size, and they don’t do anything more interesting than provide their names to be credited alongside her. For a posse cut that features each performer finishing one another’s sentences, they have zero chemistry and provide none of what makes their own work special. Robyn should be encouraged to never rap — her cutesy “Konichiwa Bitches” mode is her worst side — and Yung Lean… well, I’m not sure what appeal he usually adds, but he should also be encouraged to never rap.
[4]

Andrew Karpan: Rustled up and confusing, neither Robyn nor Yung Lean succeed in turning the Brat opener into a SoundCloud loosie. Instead, their new, rattling voices make the song feel crowded, an email correspondence that pales in comparison to the more movingly distant Lorde remix that quickly overshadowed this glittery mess. 
[3]

Jackie Powell: What bothers me about this fascinating collaboration is that “360” loses what makes it most compelling. The original “360” is essentially a slice-of-life song. It paints a subculture and a social circle incredibly well and showcases Charli XCX’s ability to manipulate vowel sounds and write with such assonance and consonance. She’s a magician with how she can manipulate the name Julia (as in Julia Fox) into an earworm or an aria. Charli, Robyn (!) and Yung Lean definitely vocally complement one another. Lean’s rapping almost acts like a baseline, while Charli and Robyn harmonize with each other, talk-singing more than rapping during their respective verses. It’s also quite amusing when Lean hops into a pre-chorus that is supposed to pay tribute to Ciara’s “1, 2 Step” like the “360” original, but instead just sounds like an interpolation of Pitbull’s “Hotel Room Service”: When Lean says “supersonic, push up on it, right in your ear,” he sounds eerily similar to when Pitbull raps “we at the hotel, motel, holiday inn.” But what’s disappointing about the remix is that it’s so much less clever than the original: it’s less redundant, but it doesn’t have as much purpose and direction. Also, I’m not sure how much of a remix this is when the only thing that remains is the instrumental.
[6]

Harlan Talib Ockey: One of the great things about Brat is that Charli went in assuming she was talking to her closest friends, who know the world she moves in and the life she lived in the late ‘00s club scene. Hyperpop has always been obsessed with nostalgia, but this isn’t just about old pop and internet esthetics. It’s about Charli’s own experiences. “The 360 remix” only kind of carries this over for Robyn and Yung Lean. “Three child stars out here doing damage” sounds like it’s about to crack open an interesting train of thought, but it quickly veers back into “we got many hits,” rather than anything more revealing about their past or present. This remix also doesn’t reach the heights of the original (a [7], btw) without its soaring chorus; because the same riff underpins the whole song, it starts to feel like one very long verse. Plus: “now my lyrics on your booby”?
[4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The most extravagant act of self-mythologizing this side of the J. Lo autobiopic — I’m not quite as impressed by these three as they are, but I’m meta-level impressed that they managed to get in this many boasts in such a compact passage. Robyn sounds diminished relative to her standards, while Lean sounds enlivened after his recent stay in the Drain Gang Post Punk mines. Charli hits right down the middle — so it’s up to A.G. Cook to pick up the slack, delivering one of his best beats since the heyday of PC Music. The taut synth riff sneaks perfectly in between the overlapping vocals, at once accentuating and playing foil to the melody. It’s unspeakably stylish, cool enough to cover up what is ultimately a threadbare song.
[7]

Katherine St. Asaph: The thing about pandering to nostalgia — there are people who formed their personalities around Charli and Body Talk, and I’m sure Yung Lean was formative for someone — is that it inherently causes listeners to think about the things they’re nostalgic for. And this sounds like “Fembot” running on energy saver mode.
[3]

Julian Axelrod: “The von dutch remix with addison rae and a.g. cook” is the sound of one pop scoundrel passing the torch to another and burning down the song from the inside. “The girl, so confusing version with lorde” is a parasocial inversion of its source material, deepening and resolving its initial conflict. By contrast, “The 360 remix with robyn and yung lean” is … fun! And a little silly! And very Swedish! Charli’s always been a pop nerd at heart, which is both her secret weapon and the reason she will never know peace. No pop star in their right mind would think, “I must turn my biggest single into a ’90s boy band B-side where Robyn sings about her boobs and Yung Lean interpolates JJ Fad.” That’s the kind of sick shit only a stan would dream up. If this remix feels less essential than its brethren, it’s because the original is such a complete statement on its own. It’s easier to fill in the cracks on an album cut than build upon perfection.
[7]

Brad Shoup: Huge whiff to not go the “I Got Five On It (remix)” route and make this a true Swedish pop posse cut. Rednex can take a lap as the best band with a fiddler since Alabama. Whale gets their flowers for putting on the hobo’ humpin’ slobo girlies. Army of Lovers can take credit for… damn near anything they want. Get Petra Marklund bragging about changing the trance-pop game. (It would be a nice 360 moment.) As it is, this remix ends up a tribute to Robyn with some Ciara/Missy love tossed in. Lean takes the “1, 2 Step” baton from the Charli in the original, though he’s never more engaged than when he’s acknowledging that yes, Robyn’s on the beat. That might not be true in all senses, but the couplet “I started so young, I didn’t even have email/Now my—lyrics on your booby” was totally worth the wait. Charli’s line about “three child stars out here doing damage” is really smart, really canny. Better than anyone I can think of, she embodies the child star’s soul war: the twin impulses to dial into shimmering subcultures and to just phone it in.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: The problem with Charli XCX being the popstar of the future is that she is very much the popstar of the now. The ability to absorb newly born sub-genres born of nostalgia for the ’80s/’90s and twist them into stranger, wilder forms is a current popstar ideal, not a futuristic one. When Robyn enters, you can barely tell her and Charli apart, so closely they’ve been tied together in being smooth, catchy and lithe — their voices blend right into each other. Hence the presence of Yung Lean, whose clumsy, awkward flow disrupts the song and allows it the appearance of rough charm that AG Cook and Cirkut’s scalpel-cut drumbeats prevent from emerging. Robyn seems happiest to be here, while Lean comes across as disengaged. That could count as cool elsewhere but feels apropos of nothing next to Charli, who is always on, no matter the cost. 
[6]

Mark Sinker: “Complicating, circulating / New life! new life!”: something sweet and funny to me that Charli is igniting old-school critical discourse where discourse is still found (“rockism” on bluesky; “auteur theory” on ilx), when both versions of this song are the words and moves of self-declared super-hot cyborgs stepping out and taking a fine narcissistic-mechanistic strut through in the city. Killing this shit since 1981 (complimentary). 
[9]

TA Inskeep: Pure fun, giving nods to 1987 Miami freestyle — this would sound great bumping from cars that, y’know, go boom — while Charli, Robyn, and Yung Lean party your body. I actually wish this track were denser and had more going on, because it could handle it; as is, it’s great but yet too spare. 
[7]

Will Adams: In its original form, “360” was thin, its silly references obscuring the astounding insight that the rest of Brat offers. This remix does it no favors; the instrumental is unchanged, the earworm hook of “bumpin’ that” is downgraded to “got that,” and Charli and her guests pass the mic aimlessly. It was already inessential before it was rendered entirely superfluous by the superior remix that is “365.” All that’s left is me wondering which Robyn lyric someone got tattooed on their boobs.
[4]

Oliver Maier: The “360” remix mercifully spares us a guest verse from Julia Fox, but still feels like a misstep — perhaps the only one, in fairness — in Charli’s zeitgeist-conquering Brat campaign. The more I listen to the original, a near-perfect pop song that thrives on its conciseness, the more it feels like a strange choice for a repurposed posse cut. There’s a tinge of the Pop 2 mix-and-match philosophy to the feature choices, but the manic, first-thought-best-thought intuition of that era is not so present here, and the poor Swedes sound a bit adrift. Lean just about holds his own, but Robyn’s contribution is woeful, particularly for an OG brat. By the end, you’re desperate for Charli’s hook from the original to break through, but relief never comes.
[4]

Ian Mathers: Sometimes when you call something a “victory lap” you mean it derisively, but this is an example of when the term feels both earned and positive. If I didn’t love Robyn and think she deserves all the praise she can get, you could probably take a point or two off my score. I’m much less familiar with Yung Lean, but he fits in just fine, in the kind of way where despite never actually listening to an album I totally buy that he makes sense rubbing shoulders with Robyn and Charli. It helps that the original is so strong, and that Charli just takes the production and ditches the old vocals so she’s more a part of this version instead.
[9]

Alfred Soto: Charli’s having fun, and I endorse her delight in sharing that burbling synth bass and ticking sequencer with her friends as if it were freshly opened prosecco, but this is a party where she’s better off dancing on her own. 
[7]