Following in the footsteps of genre-blurring and aesthetics-driven artists such as the android-like songwriter yeule, everything about sophie meiers’ new “portal” EP trilogy signifies a sort of post-human existence. With the first EP shine__space opening to the sound of robotic droning, and each collection of tracks beginning and ending with song titles crunched between the familiar bracketing of HTML code, every stylistic choice meiers makes signifies a firm pivot from physical space into cyberspace, making for a highly conceptual, world-building multimedia project that celebrates the digital age and the end of the analog era.
Well, that is until meiers’ vocals enter the mix on shine__space’s first proper track, “let me breathe.” In spite of the song’s new-wave pulse and the vocals’ recollection of electro-body-horror duo Purity Ring, meiers sets in motion the core lyrical themes of the trilogy (rounded out by spark__space and the newly released concluding faction, crawl__space), which are at times painfully human. Rather than clashing with the backing tech-pop soundscapes, the emotional reflections on relationships and self-awareness create an interesting juxtaposition—like a robot exterior with a human heart.
“The portal trilogy materialized out of the rich sensory interconnections I experience within music, emotion, and visual art,” meiers shares of the project, which is accentuated by fashion, makeup, digital art, and video in addition to the music. “I want my artwork to be experienced with all five senses, and to evoke memory and existential power. I like to think of all three EPs as components of a house. shine__space is the gateway, the space outside of the house, the windows and the sky. spark__space is the structure, the building, the living room. crawl__space is the dark, shrouded basement beneath the surface.”
With the final installment out today via Epitaph Records, we had meiers break down each track on all three EPs, in addition to providing intros for each release that offer a bit of context. They also created visual cues for each track which appear next to each writeup—find all that and stream the EPs below.
shine__space
synthetic, glossy, sequenced
shine__space begins with an otherworldly, robotic tone. Its production revolves around cutting sequenced synths, arpeggiators, and resampled audio: a digital dreamscape. I wanted to be able to suspend listeners in a surreal, anodized environment. As it evolves, elements of vulnerability and personal stories become more apparent: foreshadowing the confessions of warmth and longing captured in spark__space.
1. “<shine>”
The entrance to the shine__space portal, a light blooming into a glowing silhouette, glittering as it changes forms. A sense of anticipation as you watch the gateway open before you.
2. “let me breathe”
“let me breathe” is the sensation of the world being drowned out around you, overlapping voices and sounds becoming indistinguishable. Time dissolves. This vague feeling is punctured with glimpses of self-awareness, slicing through the trance—bringing you back to reality.
3. “star”
“star” is the feeling of your heart racing, the adrenaline of being with the person you adore. It feels like minutes blending together, euphoria, and blurring lights as you fly down the highway in a speeding car. It’s exhilarating tunnel vision—nothing else could matter more.
4. “confirmation/bias”
This song is a rhetorical question to myself, taking concepts from philosophy and quantum physics. Do I suspect things are going to happen to me because I can tell they’re about to happen? Or do things happen to me because I anticipate them to? “Confirmation bias” is defined as the tendency to process information by looking for or interpreting information that is consistent with one’s existing beliefs. This song is the Shrödinger’s cat paradox of my life. Am I intuitive? Or do I will my fears into existence?
5. “high beamz”
“high beamz” is a turning point for the EP, symbolizing a step towards the “real world.” Its sequenced elements take on a less digital format—chopping bass, guitar, and vocals as opposed to synthesizers. It marks a transition from the symbolic to the more literal. “high beamz” describes the experience of letting people push me too far, not speaking up for myself, and being too giving. “I compromise and smile politely / I pet the dogs but they just bite me.”
6. “things will change”
This song is a love letter to my little brother who struggles with addiction, and the heartbreaking experience of desperately wanting to help somebody you love. It’s the knock-the-wind-out-of-you sickness caused by powerlessness. It's about growing up. It's about watching each other change. All I can do is take things day by day, with unconditional love, and trust that things will change.
7. “okay w/ that”
Continuing with the theme of vulnerability, “okay with that” is a song about caring about somebody who doesn’t care about you in the same way. I was so consumed by attachment that it didn’t even matter to me if they did; I tried to justify it in my own head. I couldn’t help but love them anyway.
8. “</shine>”
The outro and transition from shine__space to spark__space. It opens the doorway to the next realm—stories crystallizing and growing into a flame.
spark__space
warm, organic, flesh and blood
spark__space is a stark difference from the surreal and glossy world of shine. In contrast to the previous digital/synthetic production, spark__space is woven together with saturated guitars, hazy baselines, and cushiony vocals. Its songwriting explores the nuances of mundane human experiences. It’s open, stripped back, and honest. It feels like flushed cheeks, comforting fabrics, and delirious longing. It winds to a close on a bittersweet note, leading to the somber world of crawl__space.
1. “<spark>”
A flame ignites, and you find yourself wandering from an in-between state toward a tangible, physical world.
2. “slow”
“slow” describes the electric tension shared between two people who secretly like each other, yet lack the courage to express their true feelings. There’s an excited nervousness in not knowing what the other person is thinking; every interaction seems to carry a hidden layer of meaning. It’s about the subtle body language and small exchanges that give you butterflies.
3. “i was the right one”
I wrote this song after a long period of living a lie. I had a revelation that the relationship I was in wasn’t what it seemed—and two years of my life were completely ripped out from underneath me. During the relationship, I had a sick feeling inside of me that something was wrong, but I pushed those feelings away, forced myself to live a false reality. This song is about finally confronting the truth for what it was, and realizing that I was the right one. The person I was fighting with the whole time was myself. I denied to myself what I knew was true, and it ended up hurting me more than the relationship did. Now I realize that it wasn’t about me and the other person, it was about betraying the internal trust I have with myself.
4. “collar”
Intoxication. Indulgence. Wanting. Euphoria. I wanted to embody the feeling of your heart racing, and the lulling warmth in between. Words hang in the air, unspoken and magnetic, filling the space with blood orange light. I feel like this song has a classic feeling to it—not needing to be in any one place, not concerned with where it goes, just entangled in a feeling of anticipation and desire.
5. “fine”
“fine” is a goodbye letter to a person who really hurt me. I write to them in hopes they’ll take my advice for the person that comes after me. The song is full of heartache, even vengeful at times, then a feeling of weightlessness hits. This is the moment I realized everything is going to be OK. I find the contrasting feelings in this song very refreshing. Layers of pain and nostalgia swelling to an uplifting resolve: “Don't break them like you do, comforting, consoling you / Don’t ask the questions you already got the answers to.”
6. “someone to be there”
I find myself in very complicated relationships. It’s really hard for me to be healthy and casual after the things I’ve experienced in my childhood. I have a tendency of getting attached to people I care about, and with this comes the fear of losing them. I’ve always been very upfront about my traumas and trust issues, so it's very scary when somebody says that I can rely and depend on them, and hurts even more when they break that trust.
7. “growing pains”
Growth hurts. Change hurts. Passing time is bittersweet—but it’s the kind of dull pain that comes with transformation. When you’re hurting, you’re learning, you’re evolving. This song captures vivid moments in my life—starting in childhood, my teenage years, and eventually leading up to the present moment. I think I’ve accepted that life will never stop changing or hurting, and I’m going to have to be OK with that. “growing pains” marks the final (full) song from spark__space. Out of all the tracks from the EPs, this is the song that breaks my heart the most. It’s a beautiful transition to the darker world of crawl.
8. “</spark>”
Ashes, fleeting warmth, closure. This outro is the journey from spark__space to crawl__space. The flame dies down as you walk further into the unknown, searching for the way.
crawl__space
morbid, numbing, destructive
crawl__ space is the place where secrets go to hide. The dark underbelly beneath the dreamlike world of shine__space and the organic environment of spark__space. This EP explores the parts of humans’ lives that we don’t begin to admit to ourselves—dirtiness, sickness, struggle, immorality, perversion. crawl__space is the final EP from my three-part world, centered around distorted guitars, crushed drums, and hauntingly violent vocals. It represents the eerie beauty of things we find “disgusting.” It winds down with a somber lullaby, guiding you to the end of the basement, where you find a window—shaped like you.
1. “<crawl>”
The unknown. Walking down a stairwell into the shadows of the basement. Dissolve into the cold, dark atmosphere.
2. “mutt”
This song is a sorta painful, sorta sweet confession of devotion and submission. There’s an aspect of playfulness and vulnerability in being able to give yourself to someone in that way. I always latch onto anyone who shows me care or concern or affection, but this song is the wholesome side of that story. It’s a love song; I think in a way it’s really sweet, being devoted in that way to another person. Like, thank you for taking me in! I’ll be here if you ever need me!
3. “forever mine”
“forever mine” is a gory, sugar-sweet, yandere love song. “Yandere”" is derived from the Japanese words yanderu, meaning insane or sick, and deredere, meaning affectionate or loving. Just like the anime trope, “forever mine” appears to be perfectly cute and harmless on the surface; but underneath the illusion of softness lurks a deeply deranged, sick person driven to violent extremes by their love.
4. “are you fucking up”
This song is about the continual struggle to be OK. Having to keep fighting for normalcy even if you’ll always be sick in the head. “are you fucking up” reminds me of the story of Sisyphus, banished to Hades to eternally push a boulder up a hill. It’s how I’ve felt my entire life living with trauma and mental illness. It’s the human condition, and maybe there’s no greater meaning in life but what we give it. The pain never really goes away. All we can do is just keep going.
5. “hotline”
“hotline” is a manic anthem of defiance and anticipation. I wrote this story from the perspective of a seemingly unassuming character, wrapped up in a dark double life. The elements of the song swell to create the feeling of being stuck in an action/thriller movie. It’s abrupt, chaotic, and secretive—just like me.
6. “untangle me”
“untangle me” is a vacuum of time in my life where I felt a deep emptiness. I was 14, living by myself, bouncing around from sketchy situation to sketchy situation. It was a symbiosis of beautiful and dark depravity, one which I both glorified and condemned. In a literal sense, it’s a song about desperation and survival. I was living in my void mundanity, where everything is endlessly tiring, and each foot I place in front of the other is heavier to lift.
7. “wraith”
“wraith” embodies an uncanny feeling of dissociation and derealization—a hypnotic lullaby spiraling toward the end of the three EPs. It feels like physically slipping in and out of consciousness, and the strange in-between place of not really being in your body. It reminds me of the old psych-rock songs I listened to while getting high with my stoner friends in high school. I was in a trance when I made this song; the lyrics wrote themselves, for I am just a conduit for the great unknown.
8. “</crawl>”
“</crawl>” marks the ending of the three EPs. Echoes of shattered whispers lull you toward a window in the darkness of the basement. Drag yourself through soot and oil, and reach toward the question of resolve. This is the last thread of the story, fraying into a suggestion of what comes next.
