A pulsating beat, strobing lights, and a yell “Dublin, what the fuck you at?”
Dressed in a white top with a black bra peeking through, black thigh-high boots and her signature wraparound glasses, Charli XCX appears on stage to the roar of 20,000 people shortly after 9.20pm.
It’s a heady rush from into , the crowd jumping as Charli invites fans to “put their fucking hands up”.
On , she struts down the stage steps, singing to those at the barrier: “It’s okay to just admit that you’re jealous of me / You’re obsessin’, just confess it ’cause it’s obvious / I’m your number one, I’m your number one!” After the year she’s had, it’s hard to call that hyperbole.
From viral TikTok dances to its lime-green aesthetic, the singer’s sixth album, , dominated summer 2024. And Charli — almost two decades since she first entered the industry — has finally made it to the top.
In just the fortnight prior to tonight, the 32-year-old has headlined three festivals, so it’s somewhat understandable that she might be a bit wrecked. She admits as much to the crowd.
“I was feeling a bit tired, a bit low [before the show],” she tells us, “then I saw everyone’s faces.”
“Dublin goes fucking hard for Charli XCX.”
Despite her gruelling run of shows, of course, 365 party girl delivers.
On her Billie Eilish collab , where she sings of someone wanting to “guess the colour of her underwear”, she flips her skirt, giving the crowd a peek, while on , she writhes under rain, singing directly into the cameraman’s lens.
Pre-show, social media was abuzz with who might be ‘the apple girl’ – the hit track all about generational trauma, complete with its own TikTok choreography.
At Primavera, it was Chappell Roan. In London, Amelia Dimoldenberg got the honour. For Malahide? No CMATs or Jedward (the most popular predications we saw), but a dedicated stan painted top to toe in green. Go have your moment, queen.
It’s hard to know how much Charli, known for her enthusiastic embrace of auto-tune, is actually singing live, but no one here cares. Her role is to act as ringmaster for letting go and embracing one’s inner brat (that looks like “a pack of cigs, a bic lighter and a strappy white top with no bra” btw). She’s a show woman, and for that she can only be given full marks, even when she admits herself she isn’t on top form.
As the show reaches its conclusion, a message flashes up on screen.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about brat summer and whether it’s finally over?,” it reads. “And I thought it was…but actually…I don’t think it is.”
“So, tell me the truth, will you hate me if I stick around?”
At a tight one hour, the only audible frustration tonight was that we didn’t get more Charli. We can’t see anyone getting sick of her any time soon.
