Posted: by The Alt Editing Staff
There’s a place in my hometown I tend to go to anytime my mind feels like it’s on the rinse cycle of a tough load of laundry. Locals call it The Fairy Garden, a little area tucked away behind an old church full of impressive rock and stone structures built to resemble a village fit for… well, fairies. One man, well over a decade ago constructed this environment to be a place of serenity and meditation away from life’s frustrations. And, it’s incredible. Every time I find myself exhausted, lost, or looking for space I end up sitting on the makeshift bridge, listening to the babbling creek below as the morning wavers on the horizon. I’ve sat here many times as a child, as an adult, letting my thoughts wash over me. I think better here. I’m at peace here. Everytime I leave, I leave with new self-acceptance of adulthood and all the messiness that comes with traversing it.
Listening to beabadoobee’s This Is How Tomorrow Moves makes me feel like I’m sitting in that Fairy Garden, coming to terms with all the inner chaos and confusion associated with growing in your twenties.
And Beatrice Laus, who performs as beabadoobee, has grown a lot since her 2022 success Beatopia. A record designed to reimagine all the preconceptions of the British-Filipino artist, that year was about proving she had more depth than what many in the industry had labeled her as. Then, in 2023, she took the stage at Coachella and played the biggest shows of her career opening for Taylor Swift on the U.S. leg of The Eras Tour. With both of those years under her belt, and working with veteran producer Rick Reuben this time around, This Is How Tomorrow Moves frames a more confident and reposed beabadoobee. She experiments with strong jazzy elements, alongside a grungier rock feel she’s dabbled in before that elevates her past the lo-fi bedroom-pop she has dominated for ages. The sonic shift seems appropriate for a record that focuses on self-reflection and trying to understand the ever-changing realities of adulthood.
The record opens with “Take a Bite,” a fun listen albeit about discovering one’s own flaws in a relationship. Incorporating everything that makes beabadoobee great–catchy riffs, jangly production, brazen lyricism–the track also introduces the jazzy instrumentation that becomes a staple to the LP’s sound the longer one sinks their teeth in. “California” is next, cranking up that ’90s grunge-rock she has all but perfected the past few years. The complications of owning what she’s lost while also yearning for it, is in high-resolution as the strong bass undercurrent brings tension to the track alongside Laus’ boiling hot vocals. The band are also as tight as they’ve ever been, causing one to wonder why this gem wasn’t chosen as a lead single over some of the others.
As This is How Tomorrow Moves progresses, though, there’s magic hidden within the slower tunes like “One Time,” “Tie My Shoes,” and “Real Man” that see Laus begin to actualize her emotions and how she soothes her wounds. The former is a love song that relies on visions of the past and self-medicating heartbreak with a thrumming, anthemic bridge while “Tie My Shoes” is reminiscent of early beabadoobee–mostly acoustic alongside uber-reflective lyricism. “Real Man” is saucier as it runs with a hard, jazzy beat and a quick, accusatory tone crooning things such as “No one taught you to be a real man,” and “If you want it, go and get it, and I hope you last” that leaves steam in its wake.
The highlights of the record, though, are in “Post” and “Ever Seen.” Both encapsulate the shifting moods of the project, offering up the best of the two. “Post” is an explosion of fuzzy-rock, loud and catchy and hazy. It documents the clarity that comes with looking back at past relationships and past friendships as one stands sober on the other side of it all. If a track ever needed to be longer, it’s this one. Elsewhere, “Ever Seen” seamlessly blends folk with lo-fi synths, flitting between ambient beats and twangy verses about drugs and falling in love. It fuels a sense of whimsy that feels very Beatopia, and I think that nostalgia is welcome when it’s done this well. Easily the most memorable moment on the record.
And although This is How Tomorrow Moves might have its critiques–too slow in areas, not enough grit, smoother production than necessary–there is an evolved identity here for beabadoobee. In past projects, searching has been a major theme as Laus explores subjects and sounds but never fully tying herself to them. Yet, there’s a confidence that glows from this record. She commits to pushing her own boundaries in pop-rock as she treks through the messiness of adulthood leaving a wonderfully imperfect ode of resilience and self-discovery in her wake. And anyone who is a fan of that, will be a fan of This Is How Tomorrow Moves.
Disappointing / Average / Good / Great / Phenomenal
This Is How Tomorrow Moves is out now.
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Hope Ankney | @hope_ankleknee
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