Frost Children heat up their pop talents in the Hearth Room

Consisting of siblings Angel and Lulu Prost, the two made headlines for their mix of glitchy production, angsty lyrics about dysphoria, and overt pop punk influence. What could’ve been a ‘cringy’ novelty was instead met with empathetic praise from the fanbase for their unique approach which was further built thanks to 2022’s Spiral and Speed Run earlier this year.

Yet, with the hype train dying down and many names like Charli XCX or underscores either moving on or, in the case of 100 gecs, embrace their punk inspirations a lot more. In Hearth Room, Frost Children falls into the latter as while the production remains as chaotic as ever, the glitchy electronica feels a lot more muted. Aside from the use of autotune, first-time listeners would assume that the siblings are legitimate upcomers of an electro-rock act whose origins wasn’t from what one would dismiss as the musical equivalent to shitposting at worst.

Straight off the back of the intro in “Lethal”, Lulu and Angel take turns singing about feeling despondent from a seeming breakup. “I’ve gotta know who you are / But you’ll never know / You’ll never know how much I get you,” murmurs Lulu as they hint of an undying obsession of getting back their love interest even if they admit of never having the courage to do so. This theme of unattainable love carries itself onward to “Birdsong” and “Stare At The Sun” which implicitly deals with the pains of being in an online relationship and its effect on real life pains. With sharp alt-rock flexibility, Lulu and Angel lets us know that they’re not just a good hyperpop duo. They are flat out good music artists.

The way that the synth works with the beat in “Marigold” helps ground the sense of chill-ness to the romantic declaration of love before the twist that it’s built off of lies that “All [the lover] wanted from the start was to see you”. It creates a nice pairing with “Frost Park” which narrates the interaction between the birds and the nearby animals about the feeling of attachment and loneliness. “Oh, the mallards and the doves / The drakes and the ducks,” goes the alliterative musing of Lulu, “Are tucked beneath a weeping willow”. It has a funky, yet twee charm that makes the two, especially “Frost Park”, surprising standouts within Hearth Room.

Among the more notable aspects that makes the album a pleasant listen is that if it’s not relying on punk performances, it has some cutesy folktronic pop tunes. “Bernadette” has a twangy guitar fingerpicking with some muted synths for percussion while you hear the violin appear every now and then. There’s just about enough zaniness to keep you hooked before the last minute when the white noise goes off the hook at the right time to keep the catharsis going. “Not My Fault” plays with the thematic toying of gender roles when Angel shows no concern with leaving her ex behind as she shares her aspiration for freedom from responsibility. Additionally, “Offer My Love” and “Oats From A Mug” sees some synergistic singing between Lulu and Angel, adding to the childish charm that makes you want to bop along with the album.

There are moments when Frost Children’s punk influences start to verge towards being more emo-like which is most noticed in the penultimate track “Bob Dylan”. The twinkly guitar riff that’s often reserved for breakups is instead used for the dystopian scenario where the titular singer-songwriter finds his work be commodified without any of his say. The stark spoken-word delivery from Angel in telling the story feels reminiscent of Slint’s Brian McMahan especially as she suggests that a part of the reason behind his anger comes from nostalgia. “Is this what success is? / To have your album promoted right by the Blank Street Coffee,” goes the pondering as the guitar gets submerged by the fizzling noise, “Where there used to be a cool stoop that you smoked cigs on?”

Over the years, many have distanced from hyperpop in favour of going with ‘glitchcore’ or ‘digicore’. If there are any hopes for artists to go beyond the seeming amateurism of the genre, then Hearth Room might be one of the first major ‘digicore’ albums to not feel like it’s indulgent in bubblegum excess. Both Lulu and Angel have truly set themselves as potential trendsetters outside of 100 gecs and I can’t wait to hear more from them.