Next year marks ten years since we first heard from Beabadoobee aka Beatrice Laus and on her fourth album Pylon, it feels like a journey that’s come full circle. Laus’ 2020 debut, Fake It Flowers, was a very US alt-rock inspired album. Since then, she’s dabbled in acoustic whimsy and shiny commercial pop, leaving the impression that, while she’s undoubtedly an impressively talented songwriter, there’s no real sense of who Beabadoobee actually is.

That’s an issue addressed on Pylon, which is Laus’ most consistent and confident album to date. It’s a return to the soaring pop-punk of her early days, but with an added grittiness this time around. The fact that she can now attract collaborators like Hayley Williams, Pinegrove‘s Evan Stephens Hall and Brendan Yates from Turnstile and make them sound like contemporaries rather than mentors is proof of her growing stature.

The record starts with the ambient hum of the title track, deliberately recreating the buzz of the titular electrical pylon, before a soft, finger-picked acoustic guitar drifts in as Laus sings “hold me like a screen, disconnected from reality”. When the crunch of the guitars suddenly kicks in towards the song’s end, it serves as an exhilarating payoff.

Sun Has Set is an early highlight, and is one of the best songs Laus has written yet. It’s a surprisingly angry break-up song with a venomous edge we’ve never really seen before from her – best of all, it’s insanely catchy with a chorus of “when I said we’ll never be friends, I mean we’ll never pretend, fuck that” spat out over a cacophony of guitars. It’s one to be played loud.

This added edge is a much welcome addition to Laus’ sound. Hayley Williams guests on the anthemic Nothing To Prove, which pairs some soaring guitars with blissful harmonies, and there are power chords liberally scattered over the gritty Radio. Most startlingly of all, there’s Despite That, which is one-part dreamy bedroom pop, and two-parts distorted fuzzy, feedback-drenched rock. The collision of the two styles, even on a song that only lasts 90 seconds is one that leaves quite the impression.

Despite these new sonic departures, Pylon always feels like a natural evolution for Beabadoobee, rather than a sudden change of style. The presence of regular collaborators Matty Healy and George Daniel from The 1975 helps in that respect, anchoring songs like Write Me A Letter in their traditional hazy glow. There are also some throwbacks to her acoustic days, with understated tracks like It’s Alright and Spark tugging effectively at the heartstrings. Ultimately though, it comes down to Laus’ sharp songwriting – tracks like Estranged and especially Memories are simply great alt-pop songs that lodge into your brain and you never become sick of listening to.

The final track Satellite seems to encapsulate the new Beabadoobee approach – a song that transforms from lovelorn ballad into a huge, distorted wall of sound. It concludes Beatrice Laus’ finest work to date, and one that promises perhaps even better things to come in the future.