Beabadoobee’s has released her fourth album Pylon.
By Katie Stewart
Feature photo by Erika Kamano
The whole record wraps around the concept of static crackles radiating from power pylons, mirroring, and exploring the constantly creeping-in anxieties that have confronted singer Bea Laus since her last album release.
The opening track, which shares its name with the album, is a gentle introduction to what soon becomes a vast and dynamic, genre-spanning collection. It begins with a flashback‑sequence effect: warped, distant group chatter speeding by. Immediately, we get a sense of the cinematic nature of Bea’s music. Each song has this visual ability achieved through these different blades of texture striking through each song one by one and all at once.
A simple guitar strum welcomes us in, accompanying breathy, whispered vocals that are delicate and laidback. Together, they twinkle. The song feels like an invasion of a private moment, a glimpse into hazy, rose‑tinted nostalgia, a spoken love letter to those closest to the artist.
Then collisions arise. Occasional jabs of sparky, distorted electric guitar create glitches in this scene, taunting and slightly foreboding. They nod directly to the electric pylons lending their name to the album – moments of static intruding upon an otherwise peaceful acoustic ballad – suggesting the sense of unescapable disconnection Bea has felt over the past few years as she navigates her mid‑twenties.
This eventually builds into a heavier, edgier electric‑guitar‑centred instrumental break. It’s still anchored by that simple acoustic strumming, but turbulence and urgency rise through a steady, hard‑hitting drumbeat and corrugated layers of distorted sound design. This thrilling play with contrast is thrown around throughout each track on the record.
The next track, Sun Has Set, leans immediately into a more oblique ‘90s‑rock inspiration: jabbing electric guitar, a faster drumbeat, and a catchy chorus with punchier, punk‑laced vocals.
Bea’s rock vocals are especially gripping in the album’s final track, Satellite, which lets loose a side of her that appears only selectively throughout the record (passionate, guttural) packing even more punch when it cathartically escapes.
Estranged feels more ‘00s pop‑rock. Brighter, sweeter vocals match a brighter, sweeter instrumental. In a TrackStar YouTube video last year, Bea expressed her love for this style of music, and that reminiscent teenage affection for quintessential noughties pop artists like Hilary Duff shines through in this upbeat, breeze‑rock track. It’s a little more rock-leaning, though, and reminds me of music by The Corrs. Satisfyingly placed vocal trills. There’s a unity between vocals, lyrics, and melody like a breath of fresh air.
This vibe also appears in Nothing To Prove (feat. Hayley Williams). As a big fan of Hayley Williams, I was excited to see this collaboration. The track leans more toward Hayley’s poppier style (mastered in Paramore’s After Laughter) and is fun. It’s an empowering yet playful song about moving on from toxic friendships and celebrating your own successes.
Across the album, each song balances minimalist singer‑songwriter conventions with exciting, ragged, textured production techniques, continuing the theme of instability and facing unknowns head‑on.
Pylon contrasts with some of Bea’s earlier work, where she has expressed joy in discovery and assuredness in her decisions, instead of confessing fears. Yet, it still shows how Beabadoobee’s music remains an honest expression of whatever introspection she’s experiencing at the time she writes.
Track 11, Powerlines (feat. Brendan Yates), is a standout. Another brilliant use of distorted guitar, with more deadpan, jaded, vocals create a truly compelling sound. Clever, twisty, and with unique sound design, it carries hints of The Sugarcubes, a surrealist band headed by Björk – a sound that mainstream music has, I feel, been missing recently. It’s exciting, especially considering Bea’s minimalistic musical backbone. The song feels darker and more industrial, even within the already urban‑decorated terrain of the album.
I’m doing a lot of name-dropping and comparison here, because I feel that Beabadoobee (and her textured, emotional-ragdoll style) will certainly become of the same notoriety as some of the names mentioned for younger generations to come.
Songs with such a direct link to the artist’s thoughts, experiences, and relationships must be a whole other story when experienced live. From 18 September 2026, Beabadoobee will be touring until March 2027. You can purchase tickets here.
Pylon is out now, and you can listen to it below.
