When an artist is as prolific — and as easily bored — as Charli xcx, “How much is too much?” becomes a significant question, and one she herself addressed in “The Moment,” the mock-umentary on her “Brat” era released earlier this year.

That remarkably self-aware film, in which she plays a sort of parallel-universe version of herself, finds her comically grappling with overexposure and the insatiable yet fickle demands of 21st century entertainment, with its domineering creative directors, executives and influencers. It’s a fascinating (if sometimes inside-baseball) statement on stardom in 2026 that unpacks her savvy and strategic perspective on her career more than hours of interviews ever could.

The film has become even more meta — and in some ways contradictory — as Charli has rolled out a new project and/or moment every couple of weeks this year, whether it’s appearing in films (four of them besides “The Moment”), videos, social media posts, tour announcements, album-listening sessions in independent movie theaters and now the album itself, “Music, Fashion, Film,” which is technically her seventh but — between mixtapes, stand-alone songs, EPs, DJ sets, a remix album, the unreleased 2018 “Charli World” LP and countless collaborations and guest appearances — adds up to more than that.

It’s her fourth full-length release in just over two years and, characteristically of her creative ADD, it sounds very little like the sparkling pop of “Brat” or its remix album and even less like the celestial synths of her “Wuthering Heights” soundtrack. Apart from a sprinkling of glitchy digital noises, there’s nary a trace of hyperpop, and — spoiler alert for anyone seeking another “Von Dutch” — there are zero club bangers.

So what does it sound like? Although she walked back an earlier comment that this album is her “making rock music,” broadly speaking, the concept holds water: The main instruments here are heavily distorted guitars — the opening of “Yeah” recalls the riff of Blur’s “Song 2,” the middle of “Card Declined” sounds like the minimalist punk group Wire — simple beats and staticky electronic embellishments, which, in another break with tradition for this autotune virtuoso, contrast with her clean, often-untreated vocals. She delivers several songs in a blasé talk-singing tone that actually recalls Florence Shaw, singer for the British group Dry Cleaning; her deadpan, sarcastic “Wow.” on “Rock Music” is this album’s funniest moment.

The 11 songs are short and succinct, blazing by in just under half an hour. It’s almost entirely the work of Charli and longtime collaborators A.G. Cook and Finn Keane; there are no guest appearances except for an unsettling monologue from iconic filmmaker David Cronenberg at the album’s end.

Yet none of this is to say that it’s a complete 180 from everything she’s done before: Charli has changed musical direction with every album, although lyrically here she’s working a familiar combination of swagger and vulnerability. On “Camera” she sings, “[It] makes me question what I’m doing/ Do I want to make music?/ Am I being fucking stupid/ If I try to be a girl on the screen when I’m turning 34?”; on the coy “Wink Wink” she sings, “Here’s the truth and I gotta be honest/ I’m not a bad girl anymore, I promise/ Wink wink.”

And her trademark effervescent melodies shine through on many of the songs: “Camera,” “Magic Metal Montana” (a love letter to Cook, her “best friend” and musical collaborator for a decade) and the chorus of “Wink Wink” all feature her effortless melody lines and sparkling synth flourishes; on the other hand, “I’m Afraid” is as aggravated a song as she’s ever done, with a menacing air and nails-on-a-blackboard guitar on what passes for the chorus.

The closing “Nothing Lasts Forever” is the song most similar to her past work, with a bounce in the rhythm and lilting melody that leads up to a lyrical passage that is meaningful enough for her to drop out nearly all of the music before it starts: “That’s why I’m not scared of anyone… But you need to discover that feeling of the crushing highs and lows of ego/ Where one minute you know you’re the worst/ And the next minute you know you’re better than everyone in the room/ But know that nothing’s gonna last forever.”

The album is probably not what new or fair-weather fans might be expecting, and clearly Charli knows that as well. Because in strictly musical terms, separate from the videos and memes and cover photo (which features John Cale, Marc Jacobs and Martin Scorsese, representing icons of the title), “Music, Fashion, Film” is a sonic palette cleanser to launch the post-“Brat” era in earnest — familiar but sufficiently distanced from the past, leaving her free to go basically anywhere she wants in her next chapter.