Of all the poetic places and all the poetic ways that Sophie Xeon–mononym SOPHIE–could have died, it seems slipping and falling while trying to catch a better glimpse of the moon in Athens could not be a more fitting way. Though it doesn’t detract from the tragedy at hand: someone far too young and talented was snatched away due to some careless accident (granted, the circumstances sound vaguely like accident could merit quotation marks around it).
The legacy SOPHIE has left behind during their short tenure on Earth, however, is more impressive than many who have been in the music industry for longer. While they may only have one full-length record (Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides, released in 2018), there were few songs of the past almost decade that they didn’t put their stamp on (this definitely extends to standalone singles like “Eeehhh,” “Bipp” and “Lemonade”–which SOPHIE put out well before the Beyoncé record). And why shouldn’t that be the case, considering their belief in the seamless merging of art, commerce and advertising? They were, after all, the S1M0NE-like prototype of the twenty-first century pop star (not sexless, like Billie Eilish, but rather manufactured into exactly the composite they wanted to be). So why wouldn’t they easily fit into the repertoires of the likes of Kim Petras and Charli XCX? Not to mention going right back to the source of all pop, Madonna?
SOPHIE’s sound was simultaneously unique and blendable, molding into the productions of every song they graced with their signature. XCX was a favorite collaborator (and therefore likely one of the saddest to see SOPHIE go so soon), for Charli is one of the few musicians willing to go absolutely apeshit with sonic experimentation. This is manifest in all of her music, but most notably in the singles she created with SOPHIE, including “Vroom Vroom,” “Paradise,” “Trophy,” “Secret (Shh),” “After the Afterparty,” “Roll with Me,” “Lipgloss,” “Out of My Head,” “No Angel” and “Girls Night Out.”
SOPHIE’s indelible earmark (no pun intended) on every “product” they touched was a testament to the rare quality in a producer that is identifiability to the listener. Few have it (sorry to say, Phil Spector was one such shining example), and the fact that they did was compounded by their prolific nature. This productivity was well at work even up to last year, as they co-produced songs for Banoffee’s Look At Us Now with those grating emblems they returned to time and time again to challenge and subvert what music “is.” Nothing more, ultimately, than a packaged persona (much to Lana Del Rey’s chagrin, who famously [and laughably] declared, “Never had a persona. Never needed one. Never will”). To boot, they also offered vocals to Arca’s “La Chíqui” in 2020, another indication that ’21 could have been an equally as fruitful year creatively.
Who knows what we might have been so generously gifted in terms of more solo work from SOPHIE? That is, had they not been such a majestic being in search of the celestial by communing with the full moon, that cruel mistress who took them away from us with its powers of transfixion and distraction. At one with nature, SOPHIE expired in a far nobler way than most can ever hope to–and there is some comfort in that, even if it’s increasingly difficult not to look at the moon as nothing more than an asshole who kills people, including by proxy because of its ability to draw out werewolves. Well, thank God or whoever we still have Holly Herndon to manipulate sound (and broker peace between Grimes and Zola Jesus). Otherwise, the world of musical contortionism might be completely fucked.
With SOPHIE being a proponent of Martine Rothblatt’s works, it was another author, Sasha Geffen, who noted of the twenty-first century pop beacon, in the spirit of Rothblatt’s canon, “If you can find your way out of one system—gender—you’re better prepared to find your way out of all the rest.” It’s unfortunate that instead of more fully realizing such a goal, SOPHIE was subjected to death as a means of finally escaping that system.
