The Live Experience: Everything is Romantic
As you may know by now, 2024 has seen Charli xcx explode: from a place of already huge success, the brat phenomena has seen her utterly dominate pop-culture, truly break America and achieve national notoriety on top of untold paragraphs of critical acclaim. 2024 has been Charli’s year.
Our journey begins on the 163, a bus that has the untraditional approach of turning up whenever it feels like. The pre-gig anxiety is running high (absolutely nothing to do with the can of espresso martini I just cracked) and I’m constantly checking times as we move at a snail's pace towards Manchester. My worries are assuaged when a group of four board the bus fully decked out in brat gear: bright green ribbons in hair, green tees, green hats - the lot.
We finally make it into town after an unimaginable passage of time, though there are just enough spare minutes to dip into The Rat and Pigeon for a pint (Boddingtons, if you were curious), where I am the only one in neon green. In fact, I might be the only Charli xcx fan on the real ale, but you never know.
The next leg of the journey is aboard a packed-out tram, where the bratification of the evening kicks up a notch. Almost everyone aboard is dressed to the nines, in the greenest green: punters are swigging from cocktail cans and homemade mixes: there are infectious murmurings about the set list, special guests, what stop to get off at, who’s seated where and who is making a mad dash to link up with mates. Before a note is played, the crackle of atmosphere is alive and building - whilst I love an intimate gig, there is something to be said for the sheer number of people connecting and buzzing for a show of this size. It’s utterly electric.
There’s a hefty queue as I polish off the can of Hobgoblin I’ve stashed in my inside pocket (again, I didn’t catch anyone else swigging from tins of golden ale), but we make it in with no drama. The Co-Op Live has had a tumultuous birth, with shows cancelled at the last minute and several previous guests complaining that the whole thing feels unfinished: this isn’t the case tonight and the venue feels fully on its feet. There are staff to guide you to where you need to be and everything flows as it should. Credit where it’s due, everything is gleaming inside the Co-op Live.
As expected, the sea of green increases tenfold once I’m inside. There are big screens in the concourse lit up displaying a neon green ‘bratchester’ message, which is met with groans from the masses when the message changes to a generic Smirnoff advert. People are taking pictures, dancing to the pre-show playlist and grabbing merch bathed in green. That persistent crackle of the atmosphere is only building, as Shygirl takes to the stage beyond the great blue doors.
After making the ill-informed decision of grabbing a pint (£8.50 for a GROLSH, by the way) I shimmy down the side to the left of the extended stage-runway. Once Shygirl closes, everything ramps up as the pre-show playlist gets bumped in volume. Charli bounds out to ‘Immaterial’, by Sophie, striding out ahead of a huge curtain emblazoned with the brat album cover. She tears through tune after tune: Shygirl is back for ‘365’ and ‘Von Dutch’ is a sea of phones and hands bounce around. Usually I’m not one for extended phone use at gigs, but when you’re at an arena show with an artist of such magnitude, you kind of have no choice but to lean right into it.
Charli is bouncing around the stage, switching from the ramp, the main stage, a separate space under the extended portion of the stage which is at eye level with punters on the barrier. Everything is filmed up close and personal, making for a brilliantly cinematic display on the big screens. At one point she descends to this under-stage area, with a huge white fur coat on - only when the lights change do you realise it’s actually brat-green. It’s a stage show of the highest quality.
A highlight comes in the form of Charli ascending the lighting rig stage high above the main performance space. She emerges clad in all black, smoking a cigarette - a picture of cool. Whilst smoking is bad etc, etc, you can’t deny how fantastic the aesthetics are, especially when paired with her (never removed) shades. A girl nearby lights up the worst rollie I’ve ever seen - it’s a crooked cone of cheap baccy, which she shares with her group. The second-hand smoke fills my lungs as Charli bursts into ‘Everything is Romantic’, and the sheer poetry of the live experience is laid bare: watching this many people connect on such a personal, intimate level is a sheer joy. It makes life worth living.
Charlie Brock.