'two house' is a hyperpop masterpiece. it probably isn't for you

Fraxiom and Gupi's sophomore album suceeds wildly and dares you to hate it

Corrrection: A previous version of this post refers to blackwinterwells as Fraxioms ex. While “dancing on your grave” is directed at BWW, they do not appear to know Fraxiom personally.

Since the pandemic-era high of hyperpop wore out, the genre has struggled with something of a hangover. It became fodder for the trend cycle, crushed by an algorithm desperate to squeeze the last bits of attention from every innovation. Its most interesting artists have branched out, or in the case of its patron saint SOPHIE, tragically passed on.

But even without its visionary de-facto leader, the musical stylings and genuine artistic talent remain. The movement behind it lives on, with Chicago-based producers Gupi and Fraxiom charting a new path forward.

The proudly trans duo was around for that heyday and saw some commercial and critical success with their 2020 self-titled record “food house”. It released at just the right moment to capitalize on and accelerate the trend and was thusly rewarded. Four years later though, things have changed, and the pair knows it. On “jumpin in the cacc”, Frax challenges the absurdity of that cycle, singing

“They say that hyperpop is out of style (whoa)
They want me to grow up and go acoustic (no)
I said, "Do you even like music?",

and lamenting her own role in this cycle:

Contribute a monster beyond imagination
Spotify is stupid, Spotify is satan.

But two house is not primarily concerned with navel-gazing about the state of a genre the duo barely identify with. (“Can you really call this hyperpop if the beat is more like cyber-grunge mixed up with digicore?”) The first order of business is not the rapidfire jokes and references for which the group is known, but instead an extended musical “fuck you” to a list of enemies; one or more exes, a previous abuser, and the hyperpop artist known online as blackwinterwells or BWW, with whom Fraxiom has previously had beef.

The disses are weaved in through opening tracks “hot problems”, “nono”, “special”, and ‘td bank’ before the topic is (mostly) put to bed on “dancing on your grave”.

Even absent any and all context of the relationships being referenced, it’s hard not to cheer for Fraxiom. Especially with lines like “I just think it’s odd that we were kids, and you were not, and we were smoking all that pot with you”. The disses are specific, layered, and utterly brutal, but to fully understand them, and the album at large, one needs to be part of a fairly specific group.

To be blunt, this album is for trans girls, furries, and the terminally online. The closer you are to any of those circles the more you will enjoy the album. Frax and Gupi are well aware of this fact. It’s a feature, not a bug. They are making music that’s fun for them, that incorporates their humor and references. Instead of looking outwards, changing the music to please or anger critics, this album looks in at their community, making a piece of art that is unashamedly for their circle.

Other reviews have misidentified this album as a piece of intentional cringe, as if the duo is watching over their shoulder and crafting an album specifically to make people mad. While there is some amount of trolling going on, this isn’t self parody or anything of the sort.

With that goal in mind, food house succeeds wildly. This album is funny. Really, really funny. Even after the dozenth listen I’m still picking up on new jokes, often getting them lodged firmly in my head for the hours and days after. Some are simple reference humor, but many aren’t. I’ve caught myself singing “We’re rollin’ bigger doobies and growin’ bigger boobies…” more times than I care to admit. It’s just fun music, plain and simple.

There is, however, one section of this album that’s speaks to a broader audience. It’s shared with shocking clarity, given the rest of the content of the album. In short, Fraxiom is not fucking scared of you.

More than that, she literally makes the case for hate-criming her. I have never seen anything like this before. In its entirety, she sings

“I talk like somebody who's never been punched before 'cause I've never been punched before…

… no bodyguard
And I can't lift for my life
Plus I'm always fucking high
And keep hundreds at a timе
Don't think a gun is personally right for me 'cause I would kill mysеlf
Pepper spray taken away by TSA, didn't replace it
Let's face it
You could fuck me up real easy and I'd have to take it!

So why can't I stop my victory lap?
Why can't I stop makin' fun of your ass?…

… Come knock this grin off my face.”

Since the early days of Hip Hop and the wild success of tracks like “Hit ‘Em Up”, it’s been a common trope to let your opps know that if they come for you, they won’t survive the encounter. Fraxiom turns this completely on its head. For trans people, trans women in particular, the “opps” can be basically anyone; a stranger who doesn’t like the way you present, a romantic partner who doesn’t immediately clock you, or even a cop selectively profiling you. This manifests in fear, with trans people often grappling with the dangers of having a gun and the practicalities and shortcomings of other means of self-defense.

In a trans culture that can lean towards fear and paranoia, Fraxiom stands up, shares her (literal) vulnerability, then immediately laughs it off. On another album this would be less notable, but Fraxiom knows two house will make people mad and she knows it could attract an internet firestorm. Its not theorectical, she’s been doxxed before.

Despite the danger, Fraxiom unashamedly explores trans, queer, and furry sexuality. kunta hora has lines that would make all but the the most online of us blush:

I can tell if the tummy soft 'fore I even touch it
Perk my ears up, bunny hop, then proceed to fuck it
'Magine what we do in private if this how I talk in public
'Cause he looks like how Bayboy draws Sam the dog
With the beard I can sink my lips into like mwah
We can take these gummies and then run around the con
With the beer, I can drink my sips in two secs flat
Wanna frot? Have that nasty kinda dude sex, yeah
Body hair I can sink my lips into like mwah
Body soft, I can press my tits into like mwah.

To be clear, this is the kind of thing that makes fascists violent. Those who think we’re disgusting cannot stand to hear this kind of talk. It may sound ridiculous to call borderline-ERP “brave”, but all it would take for this to become a genuine threat to Frax’s safety is a clip posted on Libs of Tiktok or a similar hate account.

But that’s not to say it fails musically, or only has value in its “bravery”, quite the contrary. Producer Gupi flexes their development all over this album. The tracks are more layered, lusher, and richer than previous efforts, while retaining the same punch and deep bass. The vocal processing finds a nice balance between the aggressive autotune of earlier hyperpop-adjacent works and a more “acoustic” sound. The synths vary from squishy to booming to harsh, often within the same musical phrase. The sound of this album never sits still, evolving and shifting throughout the runtime. It borrows from greats like SOPHIE and 100 gecs while still retaining a sound all its own. Gupi also showcases their vocals for the first time, to great effect.

In a world where no piece of art stays in its target audience, where trans people are facing an erosion of our rights and former allies are turning their backs on us, two house refuses to pull punches. It is trans music, it is furry music, and it doesn’t give a shit if you like it or not.

In releasing this work, Fraxiom and Gupi chart a new course for hyperpop in the post-panedmic era. More than metallic screeches and autotune, it is increasingly a transgender countercultural movement— needed now more than ever.

Ultimately it’s impossible to give this album a rating out of ten. Whether you like it depends more on who you are than what the album is. However it is a masterpiece. It redefines a genre that badly needed direction and in doing so will help inspire a new generation of trans producers, djs and vocalists.