Clairo at The Roxy
You might remember Clairo from a song that went viral in 2017, quintessential keyboard bedroom pop hit “Pretty Girl.” These days, she’s bringing a Wurlitzer and a mellotron to the studio.
“Charm,” released July 12, cements Claire Cottrill’s place as a writer of singular yet soothing, timeless music. With retro, slightly lo-fi production, spare but tender lyrics and Clairo’s signature hypnotizing vocals, the album feels like a wink from a stranger across the room at a cozy dinner party.
It’s frustrating to see outlets like Pitchfork call Clairo’s style “a format with somewhat diminishing returns.” To be sure, the publication’s review of Charm was a positive one, but it’s worth pushing on the idea that putting out consistently sophisticated, enjoyable music is not enough — that an artist must break the mold and switch up their sound, persona or aesthetic every time. In a time where pressure to era-ify one’s music — a lá Taylor Swift — feels like a requirement to stay relevant in the public eye, it’s refreshing to see Clairo luxuriate in the gentle, meandering sound she’s built up throughout her career, rather than seeking to recast her musical identity entirely.
This isn’t to say that the album marks no change at all. On the contrary, “Charm” takes the increased emphasis on instrumentation from Cottrill’s sophomore album “Sling” and builds upon new layers of complexity. The stripped-back sound of “Sling” recalled music by retreat-to-the-woods giants like Bon Iver and featured vulnerable vocals with usually only one or two instruments. “Charm” feels like one big, beautiful, warm extension of the more built-up tracks from Clairo’s previous album, notably the twisty and beat-driven “Amoeba.” It’s slightly more structured, with tighter choruses and a sense of intention beating throughout. Sonically, it’s a delight.
To lean into the dreamy, ‘70s-inspired vision she had for the album, Clairo worked with producer Leon Michels, a soul and funk musician with a star-studded producing history. The result is a colorful haze of clever vocals and instrumentation you don’t often see on the records of 25-year-olds.
In her first album, the breakthrough “Immunity,” Clairo sings, “Is it alright/ To feel this way so early?” In “Charm,” she answers — yes.
“I think when I used to focus a lot on goals, especially with romance or whatever, it was kinda counterproductive,” Clairo said in a BBC interview soon after the album’s release. “There’s something really nice about, y’know, being charmed by somebody, and enjoying the moment. Love is this thing that exists all the time, and you don’t only experience it in these long-term relationships.”
It’s a funky, ‘70s-inspired way of expressing what we hear all the time, but sometimes struggle to accept — that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. That love might be a brief connection, a whisper in a stranger’s ear, or it might live in your memory long enough to write a song about it, but it’s love either way.
Uncertainty permeates the album’s story arc, as in the ambiguity of glances at a bar in “Sexy to Someone.” It’s an album of holding two truths at once. We didn’t work out, but I’m grateful for our time together, says “Thank You.” I’m not sure if I want to run away into the forest or sleep next to someone, admits “Nomad.”
Clairo’s signature style has always featured a whispery tone. In “Charm,” she does it with more confidence than ever. The artist’s previous work often stayed in the realm of the solemn and reflective. Though “Charm” undoubtedly takes the listener through the stages of love and parting, Clairo seems to sing with a playful smile on her lips — the work of an artist four years older and wiser. Humor peeks out all through the album, whether it’s Clairo’s flirtatious giggles in “Second Nature” or her mouth trumpet in the colorful masterpiece “Juna.”
Albums written primarily in the second person can sometimes feel exclusive — who is the “you” they’re writing about, and why don’t they let me in on the story? This is, at least for me, the effect of albums like Gracie Abrams’ recent “The Secret of Us,” where the frequent use of inside references and jabs at the recipient sometimes make me feel like I’m interrupting a private conversation by listening. Clairo, though, has always been able to make writing to an unknown “you” work, mixing just enough specificity with widely shared experiences of love to make the work feel like something we’re supposed to, not just allowed to, listen to.
It’s hard to play favorites in an album this lovely. On every listen, a different song stands out for an unexpected vocal run or a distinct sound. “Echo,” for instance, is notably cooler than the rest of the album, floating in mystery and contradiction. For me, it’s “Nomad” and “Juna” whose little instrumental licks keep getting stuck in my head.
For songs that decidedly groove, try out “Sexy to Someone,” “Thank You,” “Juna” and “Add Up My Love.” When the lights go down — or, as Clairo puts it, “when candles burn out/ And the record is faded down” — queue “Nomad,” “Slow Dance” and “Pier 4.” Truthfully, the album is at its best when listened to in full, bringing you along with Clairo on the journey from first spark to sweet memory.
The “Charm” tour begins in Dallas on September 17. Though Clairo won’t be visiting the City of Bridges, fans can take a road trip to Columbus or Philadelphia to be charmed in person.
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