Clairo - Charm

Clairo’s most powerful moments come when she’s whispering secrets you didn’t even know you wanted to hear. On ‘Charm’, her third studio album, Claire Cottrill invites us deeper into her world than ever before. It’s a place where vintage synths hum like summer cicadas, where confessions are murmured over warm Wurlitzer chords, and where the lines between past and present blur into a dreamy haze.

This isn’t the bedroom pop that first brought Clairo fame, nor is it the pastoral folk of ‘Sling’. Instead, ‘Charm’ carves out its own sonic territory – a lush, analogue landscape that feels both intimately familiar and thrillingly new. Collaborating with soul revivalist Leon Michels, Clairo has crafted an album that’s as warm and worn-in as your favourite record, yet bristles with the electricity of fresh discoveries.

From the gentle sway of opener ‘Nomad’, it’s clear we’re in for something special. “I’m touch-starved and shameless,” Clairo admits, her voice barely above a whisper. It’s a sentiment that echoes throughout ‘Charm’ – a longing for connection tempered by self-doubt and hard-won wisdom.

The album’s first act unfolds like a series of Polaroids, each track capturing a fleeting moment with startling clarity. ‘Sexy to Someone’ rides a subtle groove as Clairo explores the universal ache to be desired, while ‘Add Up My Love’ turns bittersweet nostalgia into something achingly beautiful. But it’s on ‘I Might Say Something Stupid’ where Clairo trulybares her soul, wondering “What if I’m not special?” over instrumentation that recalls the best of 70s singer-songwriters.

Michels’ production deserves special mention. Recorded live to tape, ‘Charm’ has a warmth and depth that feels almost tactile. From the jazzy swirls of ‘Terrapin’ to the psychedelic haze of ‘Echo’, each track is a carefully constructed mood piece that rewards close listening. Yet for all its vintage touches, ‘Charm’ never feels like a pastiche. Instead, it’s a thoroughly modern album that just happens to have an old soul.

While much of ‘Charm’ dwells in quiet introspection, Clairo hasn’t lost her knack for crafting moments of pure pop bliss. ‘Juna’ is a playful ode to new love that sounds like Carole King jamming with Steely Dan, while on ‘Thank You’, Clairo’s gratitude feels earned and genuine.

As we reach the album’s final act, Clairo saves some of her most poignant moments for last. ‘Glory of the Snow’ finds her pondering an uncertain future with equal parts hope and trepidation. Closer ‘Pier 4’ is a dreamy, introspective gem that lingers long after the last note fades, leaving us to wonder if Clairo has found what she’s been searching for – or if the search itself is the point.

‘Charm’ isn’t an album that announces itself with fanfare. Instead, it’s a record that slowly unfurls, revealing new layers with each listen. It’s for late-night drives and lazy Sunday mornings, for stolen moments of connection and long stretches of solitude. Most importantly, it’s the sound of an artist fully coming into her own, embracing vulnerability as a strength and crafting songs that feel both timeless and utterly of the moment.

In a world of constant noise, Clairo has given us something precious – an album that demands we slow down, lean in, and really listen. ‘Charm’ isn’t just a collection of songs; it’s a world unto itself, one that grows richer and more rewarding with each visit. It’s Clairo at her most honest, her most sonically adventurous, and ultimately, her very best.