this is nauseating—not because its evolutions of hyperpop and bubblegum bass aren't immaculate attention sinks, those soundbeds she had recaptured and become lead torchbearer for, but because its two month development flurry had, already, completely translated into a set statement: this pit of pandemic desperation, of isolation, friendship barriers, longing, and kicking hopelessly to get back to that third space, surrounding yourself within visions of those waters.

it doesn't pretend to believe itself (detonate), even after it already made clear that it deserves waves of thrills, countless occasions to overcome and grow from, and a love that never falters (pink diamond, forever). and apart from having some of her most polished yet hyper-active and dense arrangements, that is what excels best here—Charli's own unknowns, within and without, retold so interconnectedly that there's no definite handrail to hold yourself to. like, as much as i finally understand tries to place itself, it's sandwiched between enemies and friends, then further bracketed by self-destruction and feeling deserted, lost in a lonely, solo rave. there's nothing that doesn't simultaneously reinforce and tear down every little thing she thinks, sees or doesn't see.

how i'm feeling now, then, fittingly to its title, is her most volatile album still, so far. it is emblematic of this collective mindstate, and i think its statements would be far less meaningful if it came about any later, or 'thought through' more minutely. it had to be this hyper-insular, compartmentalized frenzy, because that's exactly the environment it was forged from and represents. an imperfect, messy pile doesn't sound like praise, but it absolutely is here.

the most jarring, over-the-top roller coasters it opens and closes with are its most endearing, these attempted excisings that feel like they could have been fed from exactly the dynamics of both self-isolation and unassuredness that rest (albeit a little too snugly at times) in the middle. the album forecasts itself in the wrong direction because everything, whether wrestled from the pandemic or not, always floats on like it, in how we live now. there are broader currents, sure, but how are you going to feel them when trapped within one wrinkle, irreparably affected by every movement made to that point? emotional highs and lows never track cleanly, so why would they suddenly start to here?

this album, this experiment that paid off in spades, a refinement in style and substance that could only ever have been torn down in the wake of her next release, captures everything that experience is like. even if what she accomplished with her previous self-titled and this year's BRAT eclipses this in unbridled expansion, hifn might always be her most immediate, most cohesive and consistently layered project.