Beabadoobee’s ‘Pylon’ is a perfect lesson in perspective

Beabadoobee’s fourth studio album – Pylon – released today, Friday 18 September, and it is quite the departure from her 2024 LP This Is How Tomorrow Moves. That said, the record is not entirely unexpected, it is more so a mature love letter to her debut release, Fake It Flowers, calling back to her rock-chick heart. Pylon delicately allows experimentation and instrumental prowess take centre stage rather than sponsoring hazy, shoegaze vocals and a bedroom-pop soundscape synonymous with the Beabadoobee name, showcasing Beatrice Laus’ creation spans far more than modern-day background music.

It’s pop-rock, cohesive, and lyrically mature

The album opens with the titular track, ‘Pylon’, delicate guitar picking grounding a powerful ode to all. While this may sound vague, I believe it speaks to the intricacy of Laus’ songwriting, lyrics intentionally open to interpretation yet still holding a narrative. “I’d rather be nowhere with you than somewhere without you” perfectly encapsulates the loves that are so all-consuming and deeply woven into our souls that you choose them every time. As the guitar fades away in the outro, electric static begins to build, immediately foregrounding the image of Pylon, and setting the scene for the lead single, ‘Sun Has Set’, a short, hardcore rock track full of aggression, centring on the complete breakdown of a relationship.

Beabadoobee released three singles ahead of the record’s release – ‘Sun Has Set’, ‘Switchblade’, and ‘Memories’. In isolation, each seems relatively misleading, not fully representative of the broader body of work, be that in genre or strength of lyricism, however, when considered as a trio, the singles almost perfectly ‘map out’ the album: it’s pop-rock, cohesive, and lyrically mature. The third single released – ‘Memories’ – sits in the middle of the record, serving almost as a transition between the sonically denser first half and the more delicate, selective second half.

Whereas the lead single speaks of a sun setting, ‘Memories’ recalls how “The sun is always here”, perhaps moving the conversation from a past relationship to a present one, or maybe perceiving relationships as transitory, marking moments in time and permanently stored in times shared together; the sun persists as – regardless of how things end – the love felt at the time remains fossilised in memory. Such duality is similarly depicted in ‘Estranged’, “Don’t wanna leave my home again” potentially addressing a present love, the thought of being without them and the comfort they bring mortifying, or speaking of the comfort one can find in the self, not wanting to risk having one’s heart broken again following a prior, failed relationship. Memories linger and forge the person we become, the lyrics of the third track thoroughly mature, acutely aware of the transitory nature of experience, it – after all – intrinsic to our becoming.

Beabadoobee features two artists, and one collaboration far supersedes the other

The middle of the album continues this notion of ‘experience’, commenting more so on that of being a young person in the 21st century. Lyrically, the songs centre on themes of mental health and self-sabotage, and the exciting immaturity of young love, however, I believe these tracks really shine through their production. For example, the heavy baseline in ‘Write Me A Letter’ feels like simply trying to put one foot in front of the other, getting through each day – that is until the chorus, where the electric guitar shines through, Laus able to let go, releasing the emotions she has pent up, the motif of the “letter” showing just how difficult it is to truly confront one’s feelings. Likewise, the chorus of ‘It’s Alright’ sits you straight in a rom-com, driving down the boulevard with your lover at the wheel, windows down and hair billowing, the burning desire of a young person aching with each hit of the snare and cymbals.

On the record, Beabadoobee features two artists – Paramore’s Hayley Williams and Turnstile’s Brendan Yates. Let me be clear, one collaboration far supersedes the other, and unfortunately (for me) it’s not ‘Nothing To Prove’ which takes the top spot: the Williams track sponsors painfully 2000s “La-la-la” lyricism and a disappointing lack of Hayley Williams, while ‘Powerlines’ has the potential to be one of Pylon’s highlights, Yates and Laus’ voices blending in perfect harmony, each artist given space to shine, their work in the studio together undeniably successful.

This isn’t to say that ‘Nothing To Prove’ is a complete right-off, however. While this track is what ‘Snow On The Beach’ was to Taylor Swift’s 2022 Midnights, the featured artist essentially a harrowing echo rather than a co-star, there is something about Williams’ appearance which cannot help but be seen as inspiring. Williams is best known as the lead singer of emo-rock band Paramore, but has recently released an astounding solo work – Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party – which closes with the ever-more famous ‘Parachute’. Her feature on Pylon is symbolically, for fans of her own work, very important, showcasing a degree of growth from ‘Parachute’, less bitter about her brutal break up from guitarist Taylor York, rather more dominating in her stance: “You want it, I got it, I flaunt it, you need it”. That said, I’d still love a rerelease featuring more Williams and less “La-la-la”.

Beabadoobee is unwilling to let go of that which her identity depends on, everything ultimately causally linked

By contrast, ‘Powerlines’ is a standout moment on the album, the weighing rock atmosphere immediately stressing a sense of angst, while the persisting lyrics make the listener feel like a deer being stalked in the woods, unable to escape. Laus and Yates’ vocals in their respective prechoruses feel threateningly relentless, while the reprieve of their softness in the chorus – something you think would set a listener at ease – only makes the track more predatorial, a sleek, feline stalk closing in from every angle. While Pylon is certainly one of Beabadoobee’s strongest records, I can only wish it sounded more like this song, its haunting vocals something I cannot stop thinking about. “Let the rain fall” concludes both choruses, and when we consider this literally, the rain falling on the ‘Powerlines’, the nauseating electrocution of the electric guitar we encounter in the outro makes fascinating sense, listeners ripped apart with each bar, this only amplified by the track’s interesting structure, featuring no true verses and only two aching refrains and choruses.

‘Despite That’, the penultimate track on the album, is a short prelude to ‘Satellite’, featuring a cinematic instrumental beneath painfully earnest lyrics which almost hit too close to home, Laus revealing that regardless of how another could wrong her, she would “still pick up the phone”, relationships ephemeral and her only wishing others the best. ‘Satellite’, much like the rest of the record, looks back on prior relationships, and how they still haunt us today, shaping who we are, intrinsic to the construction of present-day character. Lyrically, the track feels extraordinarily mature, new perspectives granting us grace, not lingering on a prior moment, but simply reframing experience, it possible to crave a prior version of yourself while not desiring the experiences you had at that time. The heartfelt repetition of “Ring, ring, ring” encapsulates the feeling of rumination, linking to the album’s closing line, “Orbiting you like a satellite”, Beabadoobee unwilling to let go of that which her identity depends on, everything ultimately causally linked. The album crashes in a final blow of electric guitar riffs, accompanied by thrashing drums, the listener almost torn apart in space by the universe’s pull, Laus leaving us with one simple message: you cannot forget that which has preceded the present; memories will last a lifetime.

Recommended Listening: ‘Estranged’, ‘Powerlines’, ‘Satellite’.

★★★★

Listen to Pylon here: