Lights out. The resonant silence suddenly filled every underground dance floor in the world. Thousands of electronic music lovers held their breaths together with anguish as they slowly gathered to hear the news. Sophie Xeon, also known as SOPHIE, had passed away. On January 20, 2021, a representative from SOPHIE’s label, Transgressive, released a statement explaining that SOPHIE had suffered a fatal accident in her home in Athens, Greece.
At the age of 34, SOPHIE had built her presence in the music industry as a creative visionary, gathering the support of millions of fans. She pushed the envelope of pop and electronic music, creating a community for those who had been dismissed by mainstream society for centuries. In collaboration with music producer and close friend A.G. Cook, she pioneered a new genre, PC Music, which evolved into a subculture known today as hyperpop. From the acid bubblegum-flavored taste of her breakthrough single “BIPP” to the mind-bending world of her solo debut album Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides, SOPHIE always found a way to defy mainstream society’s idea of pop music through her inventive maximalism and experimentation.
I will never forget when I first discovered SOPHIE while scrolling through YouTube recommendations. My 14-year-old self did not understand what “he’s my little ponyboy” meant, but it definitely had a little sweetness to it that I found to be both perplexing and appealing. She merged her fascination for unconventional sound design with pop music and culture in ways I had never seen before. Whether it was a crisp bubbly synth, a nonsensical breakdown in the middle of a song, or a seven-minute unsettling ambient track that could score an A24 movie, she was ready to immerse you into her world through sounds. This love for experimentation landed her collaborations with artists like Madonna, Vince Staples, and Charli XCX, pushing her vision of pop to broader audiences.
Now, almost four years have passed since SOPHIE’s death, but her influence continues to be as evident as when she was alive. While receiving a Grammy for “Unholy,” Kim Petras thanked SOPHIE for her transgressive work and for opening the door for trans artists to be recognized in the music industry. Charli XCX featured a tribute song about her friendship with SOPHIE in her new album, BRAT. Millions of fans of electronic and pop music still hold SOPHIE’s music and her contributions deep in their hearts.
To honor her legacy, Benny Long, SOPHIE’s brother and collaborator, alongside her family, recently released a posthumous album titled SOPHIE. In an interview with Australian radio station, Triple J, her brother said, “This album is very much a community that SOPHIE brought together. It is like a family.” Spanning 16 tracks, the album features many collaborations with artists like Cecile Believe, Evita Manji, Hannah Diamond, the aforementioned Kim Petras, and many others who were close to SOPHIE.
Before listening to the album, I was hesitant with my excitement. After an artist dies, record labels, collaborators, and the artist’s family are met with the possibility of compiling a body of work that encompasses the artist’s essence based on the artist’s will. While this sounds good in theory, posthumous albums have always been polarizing among fans because they often fail to honor the artist’s legacy while respecting their creative agency and vision. For example, after XXXTentacion’s death, his record label released a posthumous album, SKINS, which many fans and journalists considered to be a “cash grab.” This was reinforced by the album’s charting success and the subsequent forced releases featuring voice notes and track skeletons that begged for the label to let the man rest in peace.
When done right, posthumous albums can allow fans closure as they get to experience a new release from their favorite artist one last time. Mac Miller’s Circles—a gold standard for posthumous albums—features carefully curated material that walks the fine line between tribute and artistic vision. It deals with the complications of grief through joyous memories and mourning resulting in a wistful shot, like realizing that the soda from the dispenser is flat after taking a sip from your cup.
The release of SOPHIE’s posthumous album is a special case. Early on in her career, SOPHIE was interested in making two albums: her experimental album, Oil, which she released in 2017, and a pop album. By the time of her death, she was already working and teasing songs for her almost-finished sophomore album. That material now lands in her posthumous album as a way to honor her wishes to release her pop album.
Ever since the album came out, there has been a Twitter feud among SOPHIE fans. Think pieces are flying left and right addressing the ethical implications of posthumous albums and the content on the album. Some wonder about the preservation of SOPHIE’s vision, going as far as to say that it does not feel like SOPHIE made it. Others are thankful for the opportunity to listen to new material from SOPHIE but feel disappointed with the album’s tracklist. Given that the release of the album was advertised as tribute to SOPHIE’s work, there was also anticipation to see if many unreleased songs like the confrontational “Burn Rubber,” the sleeky “Take Me To Dubai,” the hard-hitting “First Time” feat. Nadia Rose, and many other songs would someday be officially released.
While there's reason behind some of those points given the minimalist presentation of many tracks in SOPHIE, I wonder how people would have received the album if SOPHIE was still alive. Some fans were expecting the album to be a certain way and they were going to be mad if it did not align with their notion of what “SOPHIE music” sounds like. This not only limits SOPHIE's artistic vision for what she expected her sophomore album to be but also highlights the parasocial relationship some fans have with an artist and their legacy. Given that the album was almost done, what we listened to was probably SOPHIE’s vision of the album: a hot sweaty minimalist rave party where she gathered all her friends and just had fun. It is clear that she wanted people to have fun listening to it. If fans let go of the hyper fixations of what they consider to be SOPHIE’s musical identity, they can finally allow SOPHIE’s futuristic vision of pop to truly shine and realize that her presence is all over this album.
The album portrays SOPHIE as presenting her final runway collection. Similar tracks walk one after the other, prancing in front of the listener, with each subsection showing a different facet of SOPHIE. Tracks 1–4 represent the daunting yet familiar side of SOPHIE. The futuristic battle chants in “Plunging Asymptote” feat. Juliana Huxtable were perfectly made to disorient the ears of those who didn’t pay attention in Calculus. In tracks 5–7, we see SOPHIE exploring her poppiest work to date. “Reason Why” feat. Kim Petras and BC Kingdom gives us a peek at a new SOPHIE that was to come, one that embraced her pop sensibility to a maximum. Tracks 8–12 encompass the minimalistic rave aesthetic that is so reminiscent of Berlin rave parties. “Gallop” feat. Evita Manji, SOPHIE’s partner before she died, is the perfect energy booster track that every DJ should play before the final leg of their set. Finally, tracks 13–16 encapsulate the euphoria and grief of listening to SOPHIE’s last project. “My Forever” feat. Cecile Believe contemplatively speaks to the never-ending impact that SOPHIE will always have on all the people who admired and cared for her.
SOPHIE’s self-titled album stands as a perfect posthumous album. It holds the best material in SOPHIE’s music catalog, meets fans’ expectations holding up to its genre-defying predecessor, and highlights the presence and absence of SOPHIE as a music pioneer and a human being. It envisions her ideas for the future while paying tribute to her immortal past contributions.
