Clairo dives deeper into soulful introspection on Charm

Valuing the stark isolation of the upstate New York spot’s cabin-like structure, it’s surrounded by woodland and not much else. Its secluded spirit shines through on Charm, just as it did on 2021’s Sling, but this time with a remarkable maturation in sound, style and scope.

The album was also recorded live to tape at the Queens-based studio Diamond Mine Recording. Much like Cottrill herself, Charm feels caught between the city and sequestered countryside, as explored on “Nomad”. With a sharp intake of breath and a steady press of a Wurlitzer’s keys, the album-opener picks up where Sling left off. With such raw lyrical commentary, she yearns for intimacy at a distance, confessing “I’m touch-starved and shameless.”

Though Charm is in some ways a continuation, its subtle transformation of Clairo’s sound is perhaps the most important progression in her discography to date. Where previously her voice could feel hampered by heavy instrumentation, Charm’s arrangements carve just enough space for it to flourish, allowing her words to speak for themselves behind refined, never overbearing, production. From a candid laugh floating in and out of “Second Nature”, to the playful sensuality of lead-single “Sexy to Someone”, the album is chocked full of moments that pertain to its authenticity. Although she may feel untethered in her day-to-day, it appears Cottrill has made a home for herself here, amidst the album’s languid compositions.

As each new Clairo record often brings new collaborations, Charm welcomes Leon Michels (The Dap-Kings, El Michels Affair), whose co-production helped hone the jazz and soul influences that seep through each song. Faint echoes of Blossom Dearie can be heard on “Terrapin”, as well as Carole King’s percussive piano on “Thank You”, deeming the album a relic of the 70s recovered for the modern age. A triumph of creative direction, its entire analogue recording process is only a further testament to Cottrill’s honouring of rhythm and blues tradition, now tailored for contemporary listeners.

This nostalgia not only seems to drive the music, but also permeates every phrase. As she must “pull on the string that binds me to memories”, images of past lovers come in and out of focus. Here Cottrill’s not only looking inward, but out into the world around her with renewed acceptance. On “Slow Dance”, faded records and burned-down candles become representative of how all things must come to an end, until only ourselves remain. Refusing to run from her past any longer, Cottrill resolves to gather these very recollections and commit them to song, eulogised for years to come.