The DIY music scene has always been a space for radical self-definition, but hyperpop has taken this to its most delirious, glitched-out extreme. By its mandate and its pure expression, hyperpop is a genre that has a singularly queered identity and sound—channelling the transgressive glamour of club-kid culture before it with the raw defiance of punk, and the high-gloss, low-fi alchemy of early internet music scenes: pushing past pastiche into something untethered, ecstatic, and wholly new. 

With the sound warping vocals into helium-laced cyborg screeches, pushing bass to grotesque, blown-out limits, twisting pop tropes into something unrecognisable yet deeply, viscerally familiar: hyperpop is resistance and a sonic hacking of mainstream culture that has turned hyper-femininity, hyper-masculinity, and hyper-digitality inside out. It’s a space in which queerness is a governing force and a portal to entirely new modes of existence: a space for identity to be fluid, mutable, and the music itself, forming a sonic manifesto of defiance and possibility. With its DIY origins, it has been an artform that emerged from the bedrooms and studios of the self-taught, who would go on to make a name for themselves on the internet’s world stage.

South African artist Angel-Ho is a Patron Saint and Mother of hyperpop’s emergent decade; as a global pioneer, their multiple incarnations are both an invocation and an evolution—a constant shape shifting that mirrors the very ethos of hyperpop’s queering of sound and self. Angel-Ho is an architect of new realities. Their sonic landscapes have pulled from the raw urgency of the South African underground, the global avant-garde, and the ecstatic digital ether— all at once collapsing them into something both deeply personal and radically expansive. From the opulent alien femininity of Death Becomes Her to the fractured, celestial club chaos of Woman Call, each incarnation is a new frontier—and equal acts of both defiance and divine creation.

With unfiltered vulnerability and a dedication to their craft (both artistically and spiritually), Angel-Ho is beckoning a new era; continuing their charge for edifying entirely new states of performing and being. As they explain to me, “I was always a performer—since the age of four, really. I was that kid entertaining at family functions, always extroverted in that way. In primary school, I started doing theatre, and I was really good at it. By the time I was 11, I could already see and understand myself improving, which was exciting,” this tone set the proverbial and literal stage for Angel. “In high school, I started landing lead roles—Frankie Lerner in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Edna Turnblad in Hairspray, Punk in District 6: The Musical—and I even performed Bad Romance as Lady Gaga with the Glee Club. It was so iconic! I wish I still had the footage, but all I have is a newspaper clipping.”

For Angel-Ho, fashion was the next step in their ascent toward their artistic vision, reminiscing that “after school, I developed a huge interest in fashion. It felt like my own kind of luxury—wearing whatever made me feel good. I gravitated toward vintage pieces, finding incredible items at markets and stores like Second Time Around. Sometimes, even the cashiers didn’t want to sell me what I found! Fashion and music became intertwined for me. I was helping with a university fundraiser called Early Friday and decided to experiment with DJing. Performing has always been a big part of me, and DJing became another outlet for that.” RIP to Early Friday and The Waiting Room in general, which was part of so many of our creative segues in the early 2010s in Cape Town. So many DJs came out of the hard-wood floor enclave of this venue, as DJing’s accessibility through an aux cable and a laptop became noticeably clear. Suddenly, one’s music taste could mean something beyond a hobby— and music, partying and the vision of artistic expression all become one, beautiful (and sweaty) experience every Friday evening. 

As Angel shares, “I remember someone asking, ‘Who’s even taking this seriously?’ And in my head, I was like, I am! That moment made me realize how much I wanted to pursue it. Around that time, I was also DJing for Umlilo, which was amazing.” The self-described ‘intergalactic shape-shifting kwaai diva’ is similarly a patron saint of this time, and as Angel shares, Umlilo is foundational to their own lore; “I was so inspired by Umlilo and their music—I knew I wanted to make music too. I wanted to tell stories, to create gestures and movement that brought sound to life. Umlilo said to me, ‘why don’t you learn Ableton? So, I taught myself Ableton by treating it like a computer game. That approach made it feel intuitive. I started making experimental beats and put them on SoundCloud, and they really took off.”

Angel’s journey into the music world took an unexpected turn when their work caught the attention of Venus X, legendary founder of New York’s influential GHE20G0TH1K party. “One day, Venus X discovered my music. I had no idea who they were at the time, but they were huge. Rihanna used to go to their parties,” Angel recalls. Soon after, Venus X and Bobby Beethoven—now known for creating Mugler’s runway soundtracks—asked Angel to send over their edits. “Next thing I knew, they were playing my tracks in clubs across Europe and America.” 

This break opened doors to a larger experimental music scene, leading to collaborations with some of the industry’s most forward-thinking artists. “I was manifesting that Arca would mix and master my music,” Angel says, referencing the Venezuelan producer known for working with Kanye West and Björk. “Eventually, I connected with her through another incredible producer, Rabit, and ended up releasing my music on their label.” With a growing artistic vision, Angel co-founded NON, a music collective that reshaped club culture through a blend of sonic experimentation and political commentary. “For eight years, we were making music, we hosted pop-up parties in London, New York, and Berlin, working with artists like Chino Amobi and Nkisi,” and their influence stretched far beyond the underground. “NON was created to support the African diaspora and experimental sound art, which was so niche at the time. We brought that niche into the mainstream. Artists like Kelela were listening to us—we knew because she once posted a photo of her laptop screen, and in the open tabs was her own collective’s name.” 

As Angel’s career evolved, their focus expanded beyond sound into movement and performance; though given their relationship to fashion, self-expression was always central. “I released my first album with Hyperdub Records in the UK. Seven albums later, I became even more focused on storytelling in a mainstream sense, but also playing with performance binaries through Angel-Ho. It was all about opening up the boxes that we’re put into and saying, ‘Let’s dress up the doll.’”

Reflecting on the evolution of hyperpop, Angel credits key figures who have been overlooked in mainstream conversations. “When I hear the word hyperpop, I immediately think of Lotic—Lotic J’Kerian from Berlin via Houston, Texas. Back in the day, she was releasing on Tri Angle Records. My first EP was already pushing those hyperpop boundaries—it was essentially a blueprint for what SOPHIE was doing later on. I was supposed to meet SOPHIE, but then she passed away. It was devastating. Afterward, MTV and Pitchfork reached out for commentary, but I didn’t know her personally—I couldn’t speak on it. It was just… surreal.” 

The genre, which has since gained global recognition, was built by a diverse and experimental group of artists. Today, ‘mainstream’ artists like FKA Twigs and Charlie XCX are inheritors of a long line of femme artists and activists. As Angel explains,  “I think the craft of hyperpop is understood best by what we did; Arca, myself, J’Kerian (Lotic), scraaatch (a performance art duo), Eric, and Elysia Crampton, who is Native American and a trans woman—so many trans women shaped this sound. It was crazy. At the time, we were all just kids with ideas. Then we evolved. It was this beautiful fusion of the feminine and the masculine, something cathartic in its chaos.”

Angel’s approach to music has always been unconventional, embracing experimentation over structured melodies; with hyperpop’s reverence for distortion as a reclamation of the ‘tidiness’ so often expected in music. “I couldn’t make music in key for so long—it was crazy! But people were still drawn to the experimentation, the feeling. I was kind of filling in a textbook of atonal singing and atonal beats. Everyone understands what an in-key song does—it makes you feel at ease, like, ‘Oh, I can listen to this.’ But some people don’t want to think anymore; they just want to escape. I’m so grateful that my music created that kind of escapism, even with its atonal nature.” 

The evolution of Angel’s artistry has been marked by transformation, though not in the way some might assume. With the introduction of a new figure in their expression, ‘Ange Madame’ was understood as a rebrand; now, as Angel clarifies, they’re more assured that “Angel-Ho and Ange Madame—it wasn’t actually a rebrand, in hindsight. It was more like… an organ donor. Angel-Ho is still the body. I changed my name back because there’s this trail of breadcrumbs that leads back to Angel-Ho. So, I can’t say it was a rebirth—it was just a shift, a way to step out of my comfort zone. I wanted to push myself into something new, to experiment with jazz, with persona, and what I could learn from that.” 

This sense of fluidity extends to Angel’s perspective on their own work, as I ask about one of their latest works, ‘Birth Becomes Her’; “Birth Becomes Her was a kind of prophecy. Music is prophecy, you know? We use our voices, our words—they’re spells. I was playing with the idea of Death Becomes Them, but I’ve always felt like my music moves in reverse. My first album was stripped down so much that it exists outside of time—when you listen to it now, it still sounds like it was made today. My whole career has felt like working backward, from the future into the past. I went to the darkest place—the end—and now I’m working my way back through the light.”

This suffusion of the esoteric and the material is something Angel has long explored in their music. “When I released Glitter Ain’t Gold on SoundCloud, I was working with esoteric themes, astrology, and merging them with the material—social politics, lived experience. But here’s the thing: there are astral gifts I know about, but I don’t feel like everyone is entitled to that part of me. I have to find a way to articulate it without giving everything away.” 

The mystical is always entwined with queerness—I have witnessed and understood this in my own experience as a writer and observer. Balancing personal mysticism with public expression is a challenge, and as I share my own journey with Angel, I recognise the familiar waters of mystery, particularly through what I understand as my own initiatory, psychosis experiences. Angel reflects on their own encounter with psychosis, describing it as both confusing and protective. “I realised that my legacy isn’t meant to be built on Grammys or mainstream popularity. If that happens, fine, but I’m not here to be ridiculed by the media or dragged into the pop machine. I’ve seen it happen to so many artists. Fame is traumatic. I feel for celebrities—people have constant access to them, even mentally. I went through that and realized: I don’t want that life. My peace, my quiet, that’s what matters.”

Their psychosis, triggered by cannabis, initially felt like an external force rather than an internal disruption. “I had a different understanding of the voice I was hearing—I genuinely believed it was someone speaking. I thought my neighbour was being rude and obnoxious. It was a mind game, and it was weird. On top of that, I was also experiencing racism—intense, crazy racism. At the time, I was living in Milnerton, in a complex of freestanding houses. There were hardly any people of colour in the neighbourhood.” The experience, and ultimately their healing and recovery process, has become a turning point, inspiring the song Diva High as a declaration of clarity and self-sufficiency. “I don’t need drugs to be high. I don’t need alcohol. I don’t need stimulants,” Angel emphasises,  “I’ve learned that lesson over the past six years. I’ve never skipped my medication once. I always took my meds, and eventually, after two years, things settled. People don’t realise that when you go through psychosis, you have to stick to your medication for two years before your body finally stabilises. After that, you can actually function normally again.” 

They nod to Beyoncé for affirming this realisation: “She said it best: I don’t need drugs for some freak shit. When I heard that, I resonated deeply.” This is an eternal truth for me too, now, and it is now a matter of asking; how do we reconstruct ourselves post-psychosis in a way that honours the lessons we learned while staying grounded in reality? How do we take those treasures and move forward in a healthy, sober, creative way? As Angel says, “for a while, I felt six years ahead of the creative consciousness, but I’ve since grounded myself. Now, I reference my past work instead of consuming too much pop culture. I try to withdraw and create from within. I think originality is about more than just references for me today, I’m more focused on tapping into my own experiences.”

Today, Angel is healing on multiple levels, stepping into a new chapter with clarity and intention. Their path is enshrined by a simple yet profound vision, and we can’t wait to see what comes next for Ange Madame, Angel-Ho and all the dimensions of self that they embody; “My vision for the future is staying present. Practicing radical self-care, and keeping my mind in control of my mind. Keeping my faith open and unwavering. Even when things don’t go as planned—like my Wi-Fi cutting out for hours today—I trust the process. I don’t stress. I move forward. My goal is simply to keep moving forward, no matter what life throws at me.”

STREAM ANGEL’S NEW EP ‘BREATHE AS IT FLOWS’ HERE

Written by Holly Beaton

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