The 2000s are back, and beabadoobee just released the soundtrack. “Pylon” brings the teenage angst that 2026 pop culture craves.

In her fourth studio album, beabadoobee builds on the sound established in her last two albums, blending alternative rock, bedroom pop and Midwest emo. The album is down-to-earth and nostalgic — spanning decades of sounds perfectly suited for the current generation’s obsession with the early aughts. 

Across 14 songs and over 40 minutes, beabadoobee transcends indie pop and sets herself among alternative rock greats like Hayley Williams.

The album starts with the title track, “Pylon.” Beabadoobee’s soft vocals pair with a dreamy backing track and soft guitar, as she sings about loneliness and feeling isolated on the road while touring for her last album, “This Is How Tomorrow Moves.” 

But she doesn’t let herself fall easily into the sound she’s gotten comfortable with in her last few albums. The softness of her voice and the instrumentals are quickly cut by the shrill static of literal pylons, creating an eerie feeling and pulling the song away from indie pop and into the alternative rock that builds throughout the rest of the album. 

The second track, “Sun Has Set,” opens with a classic rock feel. Beabadoobee’s voice is strong and unwavering; her anger is palpable as she sings about the permanence of a failed relationship. 

She doesn’t dwell on this period for long, though: “Estranged” brings the listener back to an earlier stage of that relationship, where tension was growing, but the sun had not yet set. The rock sound retreats as well; in its place is a pop song right out of a romantic comedy. 

“Estranged” is reminiscent of her earlier albums, though the layered guitars make it fit with the rest of the rock-heavy album. But the song, like its lyrics and her older songs, is emotionally distant, singing, “I don’t wanna feel it.”

The best tracks on the album see beabadoobee’s emotions take the lead and direct the song, and “Switchblade” and “Powerlines” do just that.

“Switchblade” is hard-hitting, raw and angry, and beabadoobee’s voice has an edge. A distorted guitar and a repetitive drum beat combine for a dreadful backtrack that creates an itch behind beabadoobee’s lyrics about internal conflict and uncertainty: “Take my switchblade, self-defense is to be brave / Do you start the fight or take the flight?”

“Powerlines” is another slow song that brings the listener right into beabdadoobee’s head. The track progresses earlier themes of isolation and loneliness.

Turnstile’s Brendan Yates is featured on the track, and the duet creates a sound more reminiscent of modern alternative rock. Beabadoobee’s soft voice, which carries a profound sadness, is contrasted by the heavy electric guitar and Yates’ blunter voice.

Like many songs on this album, “Powerlines’” lyrics carry the weight of loneliness. She sings almost rhythmically, and in fragments, resembling an internal monologue.

“Powerlines” isn’t the only collaboration on the album, but it is the only memorable one.  

“Nothing To Prove,” featuring Williams herself, comes with high expectations but underdelivers. Williams defined 2000s alt rock, and beabadoobee keeps it alive on this album, but they fall short of recreating the genre on their shared track.

It sounds less like Paramore and more like One Direction. Beabadoobee is unusually upbeat, and instead of getting ultra-descriptive in her lyrics, the chorus is vague and bare of a distinct emotion. Williams’ contribution on the track is even more lackluster, as she’s confined to a quiet “la la la.” 

While this song is one of the most forgettable on the album, it shows that beabadoobee can stand on her own among the artists who built the genres she brings into the album.

The album ends with “Satellite,” a soft, sad defeat in the emotional journey navigating loss and loneliness throughout the album. She is edging toward acceptance, but the song is still angry as she sings, “Hold my breath until the dial tone / Ring, ring, ring to bring you back to me.”

Her voice sounds defeated at first, but when she gets to the chorus, she screams. The drums and bass come in full force, reminding the listener that beabadoobee is a rock star now. 

As she switches from a soft delivery and acoustic instrumentals into the hard rock chorus, she shows her ability to seamlessly shift between genres and create something entirely new.

“Satellite” leaves the listener with a pit in their stomach on the album’s most personal track. Despite being a reflective song, it doesn’t close beabadoobee’s feeling of isolation and despair. While the journey isn’t over, when “Satellite” ends, the album feels complete. 

“Pylon” is beabadoobee’s reckoning with maturity, and the 26-year-old brings it to the table, unafraid to unleash her raw emotion. 

Beabadoobee has been slowly building her sound over her last three albums, but “Pylon” is set apart by how much it leaned into the angst of its meaning. She’s removed the hesitancy to stray from her bedroom pop genre and doesn’t hold back in experimenting with sound. 

Beabadoobee took a risk, embraced a new sound, and it worked. “Pylon” is addictive.