B-Side Guys

Cross-genre covers often falter in the chasm between concept and execution. The idea—”what if hyperpop anthem, but folk?”—typically promises more than it delivers, resulting in novelty rather than revelation. Natalie Nicoles’ late February reimagining of Charli XCX’s “Apple” defies these expectations, achieving that rarest of cover song accomplishments: illuminating entirely new dimensions of the source material while establishing its own distinct identity.

The audacity begins with song selection. Charli’s “brat” album stands as one of 2024’s most definitive cultural artifacts—a neon-lit, maximalist manifesto that explicitly rejects restraint. Nicoles and producer James McAlister (whose credits include The National, Sufjan Stevens, and Taylor Swift) recognized something underneath the original’s pulsing production: a narrative about generational damage that could benefit from quieter contemplation.

Their arrangement begins deceptively simple—acoustic guitar providing skeletal framework for Nicoles’ crystalline vocals. This opening establishes a canyon-like expansiveness that contrasts sharply with the original’s claustrophobic club energy. At the 1:24 mark, however, the composition undergoes a transformation that showcases McAlister’s production acumen. Subtle electronic elements and rhythmic textures emerge, creating not an imitation of Charli’s aesthetic but a thoughtful conversation with it.

What resonates most powerfully is how this sonic reframing shifts emotional emphasis within the lyrics. The line about driving, which Nicoles cites as personally significant given her Los Angeles upbringing, acquires new dimensions when relocated from hyperpop’s frantic escapism to folk’s meditative journeying. While Charli’s version presents driving as frenetic flight, Nicoles’ interpretation suggests something more ritualistic—a contemplative practice for processing inherited pain.

This thematic reinterpretation feels particularly resonant when Nicoles discusses her attraction to the song’s exploration of generational trauma. “It’s unfortunately in most families somewhere in their tree. It’s certainly in mine,” she notes. This universalizing of personal damage connects directly to folk music’s traditional role as communal storytelling, allowing difficult truths to be acknowledged and, potentially, transcended.

McAlister’s production choices consistently reinforce this thematic bridge-building. The sparse arrangement allows silence to function as an active element—creating space for processing rather than drowning sensation in sound. The gradual introduction of electronic elements suggests the intrusion of modernity into tradition, just as generational patterns intrude into present relationships.

What ultimately distinguishes this cover is its defiance of novelty. Rather than mining ironic contrast between hyperpop source and folk destination, Nicoles and McAlister reveal unexpected continuity between seemingly disparate musical approaches. In doing so, they’ve created something that honors Charli’s original while establishing its own legitimacy—proving that sometimes the apple falls quite far from the tree, only to reveal how deeply the roots connect.