Euree Hong
When Alice Longyu Gao first started putting out her hyperactive, abrasive club-pop songs in 2019, the hyperpop genre was still in its infancy. Nothing more than a broad umbrella term used to loosely group similar-sounding, computerized pop songs, she and her collaborators — 100 gecs’ Dylan Brady, producer Oli Sykes, and more — eventually canonized it into a legitimate musical movement with its own quirks and rapidly growing audience.
Fast forward five years, and the Los Angeles-via-China singer and producer is now releasing a new mini album that decidedly doesn’t sound anything like hyperpop. Assembling Symbols Into My Own Poetry, out Oct. 23, is the third and last entry of a trio of projects by Gao, and was crafted with live instrumentation and strong rock influences. Songs like “Clingy” and the Danny Brown-featuring “Bird W/O Nest” are rich ballads that benefit from washes of guitar and thunderous drums. And even Gao’s more clubby and idiosyncratically chaotic songs like “Lesbians 3” and “3 Korean Girls” feel more spacious and three-dimensional. Traversing themes of body image, immigration, and relationship woes, the tracks are also notably some of her most personal.
When I meet up with the 29-year-old musician on an October afternoon at New York City’s SoHo House, Gao demurs that the project was meant to be a vulnerable unveiling of sorts, but shares that its creation did coincide with significant artistic growth. “It’s the most conceptual that I’ve ever tried in terms of a whole theme,” she says, tugging at the poofy white tulle dress she’s wearing. “I’m really painting and directing this movie for my audience.”
Gao has long spoken out about the challenges of being an independent artist, and she directs our conversation toward the new hurdle she’s facing in the industry: algorithms. Ahead, read our chat about her pivot to live instrumentation, whether she still identifies with hyperpop, and her mini album, which she says will be the project that will “end it all.”
Euree Hong
The FADER: What do you mean by “ending it all”? Just in terms of it closing out the trilogy or is there a bigger meaning?
Alice Longyu Gao: I was able to experiment a lot for this new mini album, specifically. I was able to work with a lot of live musicians. There’s live drums, live saxophone, live harp from myself. It was a lot of fun. I was really inspired by rock music.
I think the reason why this one feels like the end is because I’m at a place where I’m able to say that I have some sort of control in terms of putting out a full body of work the way that I want to. It’s still not perfect but it is perfect as of now. That’s why it’s coming out.
The project is called Assembling Symbols Into My Own Poetry. What does this title mean to you?
This mini album [actually] has a Chinese title called ‘成诗,’ which literally means “becoming poetry.”
I like the idea of Nirvana. It’s kind of like… for example, Pokemon, right? They become better, better, better, better version of themselves, and I like that idea. So “成,” represents the process of becoming a better self, and then “诗,” which means poetry. I think we’re all poets for our own lives. I would love to encourage more people to try to play the puzzle, play the symbol games, and write their own poetry.
Compared to your last projects, this record explores much heavier, personal themes. On “Little Piggy豚” you sing about feeling the pressures of beauty standards growing up and “Bird W/O Nest” is quite moving in how you write about leaving China and moving to the U.S. Why sing about these topics now? Is it important for your fans to know you as a person?
Well, I think no, it’s not. I think it’s important to have boundaries. I think even with art making, you have to set the boundaries, like this is my movie, this is not my diary. This is not a text exchange between me and my best friend.
I think my fans, they’re able to appreciate my art and that’s why they’re here. I’m not a Hollywood celebrity, you don’t have to know too much about my personal life in order to understand what’s happening.
You mentioned that the album features a lot of live instrumentation: live drums, and you play the harp. What prompted you to veer in this direction?
Well, my first taste of music was playing piano, but when I started making my songs it was mainly during COVID and I was mainly using my computer and it was very electronic. But then I realized my first love actually before classical music was rock music.
I went to all these rock shows because I collaborated with Bring Me The Horizon and I’ve opened for Baby Metal and they play with a live band, so I was able to meet a lot of amazing musicians and instrument players. I started wondering, “What if I experiment with what they can do and with what I can do?” It’s been a really fun process. I really like it.
I think a lot of people when they think of you, they still think of hyperpop, but it’s clear you’re sort of evolving out of the genre.
I mean, I’m super grateful to be able to have a place in contemporary adult music because of the creation of [hyperpop]. Also, for me to be a foreigner here in America, it feels very fresh to me to be able to get identified because of my part in the creation of this whole community. I feel like before that, I just didn’t know where to go. I didn’t ever get a playlist placement on Spotify.
So, for industry reasons the term has been helpful.
Well, I mean, unfortunately we live in a capitalistic society and the creation of labels is for corporations to be able to identify and manipulate their audience, their consumers, so for that [reason] I don’t like [it].
But just like growing up, all the contemporary adult music icons that I listen to, none of them look like me. So I have to be that person for me, if that makes sense.
Do you still identify with the hyperpop label?
I feel like I am one of the creators of hyperpop. [That] won’t change. And yeah, it’s not up to me. But I mean, again, I think [hyperpop] is also about embracing friendship, embracing individuality through the use of one single word.
“I feel like I am one of the creators of hyperpop. [That] won’t change.”
Speaking of capitalism and corporations, you recently posted a statement about what it’s like being an artist and having to be beholden to algorithms and the whims of tech companies. This is a conversation that James Blake started a while ago, but I think many fans still don’t know about what artists are experiencing. What do you think is important for people to know?
I like longform [art] but the platforms don’t enjoy long forms that much.
What do you mean by longform?
Like if I’m making a YouTube video, it will be 10 minutes. But even YouTube doesn’t really like 10 minutes. They like shorter [content]. And a lot of my work needs my audience to take their time to really enjoy it.
What prompted you to write the statement?
Because the other day, I was thinking that my favorite part of doing this is live performance. My music and also my art project as a whole, you really need to come to my shows; there’s instrument playing, there’s performance, there’s my little comedy lines in between my songs. It’s like Disneyland, you really need to come to enjoy it by yourself in person.
What James Blake talks about is how the algorithm impacts how artists promote their projects or shows, and also how one big company essentially owns everything. It’s really upsetting to really think about that, and I want to be able to have my art reach more people, whether it’s through word of mouth or things like that. [I feel like] there’s nothing for me to rely on nowadays because everything is social media, and I’m just all here on my own creating, dreaming, and I don’t wanna feel like, “Oh there’s this pressure on the neck.”
I’ve been telling fans to subscribe to my Substack. That seems to me like a temporary, not-perfect solution.
Do you have any other ideas on how to solve this algorithm crisis?
No, I’m not a tech person. I don’t know what to do. That’s why my post was also a cry for help, to figure out what to do.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
