Beabadoobee Pylon Album review by Rob Johnson
Beatrice Laus, known professionally as Beabadoobee, burst onto the UK music scene with 2020’s well received debut album Fake It Flowers and has since had a number one record with 2024’s This is How Tomorrow Moves. Pylon, her latest LP, sees the Filipino-British singer-songwriter dealing with the indecision attached with leaving adolescence behind and moving into womanhood, the album’s title a reference to feeling connected but also isolated at the same time.
The title track kicks things off with Laus imploring someone to “hold me like a screen, disconnected from reality”. It’s a fitting beginning for an album obsessed with human connection or the lack thereof. The combination of haunting cello and screeching feedback builds to a genuinely heart-pounding crescendo before an insistent guitar solo signals the introduction of pounding drums and a cacophony of noise.
‘Sun Has Set’ features the kind of opening riff employed by countless mid-00’s emo bands but the sheer power of Laus’ anger elevates this straightforward breakup song into something cathartic; ‘Estranged’ goes back to the ’90s for a pulating slice of power pop that ambles along with the menacing refrain ‘something keeps you coming back to me’ demonstrating Laus’ newfound lyrical maturity and ‘It’s Alright’, built around one of the album’s catchiest riffs, stands out as one of the most memorable songs on a record that is always effective but also suffers from a lack of sonic variation.
Elsewhere, ‘Nothing to Prove’ is a bubblegum pop song that unfortunately stumbles into Good Charlotte territory and it’s also slightly disappointing to have Hayley Williams, one of the most distinctive voices in pop music right now, appear on the track only to provide backing vocals. ‘Power Lines’ is better. Built around a hypnotic drum beat and a pulsating bass line, and unlike anything else on the record, the track features Brendan Yates from buzzy hard rock band Turnstile on the chorus before the whole thing falls apart into a beautiful mess of squealing guitars and electronic glitches.
The album closes out with ‘Spark’, the kind of slow, sultry love song that has made Taylor Swift a superstar, and ‘Satellite’, a wistful ballad that sees Laus at her most lovelorn before exploding into a huge chorus that drips with defiance and empowerment. It’s a strong conclusion to a record that perhaps won’t win Beabadoobee any new fans but will surely delight long term admirers.
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