CD of The Week

It’s time once again to take a dusky trip with Beck to “sad, acoustic Beck” territory. Back in 2001, the ever-shifting artist released the beloved, critically acclaimed, and heartbreaking Sea Change. In 2014, he revisited the realm of acoustic guitars and string sections on Morning Phase, which shocked everyone (especially Beyoncé fans) by winning Album of the Year at the Grammys. Now it’s Round 3 with Ride Lonesome, as Beck rounded up his same trusty backing band, his composer father David Campbell, and producer Nigel Godrich (on mixing duties this time) to make another trek into the dark night of the soul.

Ride Lonesome opens with its beautiful bummer of a title track, a gorgeous, stately, and slightly twangy tune that sets the tone for the record. You can’t help but read Beck’s 2019 split from his wife and subsequent divorce into these songs, as they’re all filled with loss, lament, and longing. On the stately “Run Away,” he plainly pleads, “Don’t you run away / Please don’t run away.” And on the lush “Failed Words,” Beck sings of “All my nights in vain / All my days in vain / All my words in vain.” Such total heartbreak is on display throughout Ride Lonesome, while simultaneously staying vague and non-specific. Beck’s emotional state is on display but you’re not getting anything beyond that… he’s not that kind of songwriter, even while writing more straightforward lyrics such as these.

For better or worse, Ride Lonesome remains with the same lush vibe through the entire record, with a layer of reverb almost everywhere, from the ghostly “Disappearing Act” to the twinkling “Falling Through My Hands.” All Beck’s backing musicians are top-notch players and flawlessly create the atmosphere he’s going for here. And it’s nice to hear Beck himself playing the harmonica once again on a few tunes.

An album this moody, visceral, and emotional is great to admire but difficult to spend too much time with too often. The key difference between Ride Lonesome (as well as Morning Phase) and Sea Change is that the latter simply has more memorable and catchier songs. But that certainly doesn’t discount the care, craft, and talent that has gone into creating an album as lush as this one. Ride Lonesome is another impressive addition to Beck’s diverse catalog. Where he rides to next is anyone’s guess, as it should be.

Beck returns to Philadelphia at The Met on Sunday, October 19th.

Even though Beabadoobee (real name: Beatrice Laus) is now on her fourth full-length album (she has five EPs as well) with Pylon, she has still yet to reach her 27th birthday. If 2024’s This is How Tomorrow Moves continued her commercial ascent (her first chart-topping album in the UK) with a cleaner, more accessible sound, her newest effort is a return to a rawer, louder territory that makes sense for someone still transitioning into adulthood. Collaborating with a rolodex full of angsty influences (Paramore’s Hayley Williams, Deftones’ Chino Moreno, Turnstile’s Brendan Yates), Pylon is Bebadoobee’s most vulnerable yet and could be classified accurately as an emo album. It is also her most artistically rewarding, with powerful, fuzzy riffs and lyrical depth evident throughout the 14 tracks.

The first single, “Sun Has Set,” makes an immediate impact with a crunchy, propulsive arrangement and confident, kiss-off lyrics that mock an ex as “scared of rejection / lacking direction.” That’s one of the only songs that begins at full volume, but many others get there through a buildup of intensity, including “Write Me A Letter,” which opens deceivingly as a mid-tempo pop tune before getting progressively heavier as the narrator craves a day where she can say her feelings out loud instead of just on paper. “Estranged” is another hooky highlight with a quiet-loud-quiet structure that effectively fits the uncertainty in the lyrics.

Meanwhile, “Switchblade” is the darkest track in Beabadoobee’s entire catalog, with atmospheric, alt-metal sonic elements and Laus adding some menace to her normally sweet voice as she sings “I’m a switchblade cutting through an empty space / need a reminder, you start to feel like a graze.” Closer “Satellite” is a haunting ballad about loneliness and confusion that crystalizes many of the themes of the album while shaving away the distortion and noise. If there’s a flaw on the album, it’s that a few of the tracks featuring guest stars seem a bit underbaked, and Williams’ and Yates’ vocals are too far in the background on “Nothing to Prove” and “Powerlines,” respectively.

Despite her steady rise, Beabadoobee has not become stuck in a single mode or sound, and Pylon continues to prove that she can write quality songs about a variety of personal topics across genres. Her authenticity and melodicism stand out even as the album frequently goes to far heavier territory than such hits as “The Way Things Go” and “Beaches.”

Beabadoobee is about to embark on her biggest US headlining tour yet, and she performs at the Liacouras Center at Temple University on Friday, October 2nd.