Yahoo Lifestyle Beabadoobee's pursuit of happiness
Beabadoobee is encircled by her girlfriends, nervously shifting her feet on the sticky floor of a London bar. She has spied someone she knows – ‘it’s awkward vibes’. She’s not ready for an interaction. ‘I’m absolutely not wearing something cute,’ she says.
‘Then my friend Hannah says, “I’m swapping tops with you – you need to look f*cking hot.”’ So, with Amy Winehouse blasting through the speakers, the singer’s mates cover her in a muddle of (faux) fur coats. ‘I’m getting naked in the club! We swap outfits, all so I can feel better about the situation,’ she adds with a low sigh. ‘Wow… I hadn’t felt that in so long. This is girlhood! And all with Amy playing? This sh*t’s a movie.’
The scene, which sounds like it’s straight from a romcom, happened on a weekend just past. Beabadoobee, real name Beatrice Laus, is telling me this story from her London home, where she’s hiding from the early winter bite, snug on the sofa. She’s been back for less than a week from a bumper North America tour for her third record, This Is How Tomorrow Moves, where she sold out amphitheatres across the States and performed her first-ever headline arena show in Canada. There in Toronto, as a sea of fans raised their phone lights in allegiance to her song California, she began to cry. Now that’s a movie. But today she’s flanked only by a small black cat, Miso, who she also tells me has chewed all the hair off her bum – neatly. ‘Like a lawnmower for a bald arse,’ Laus explains. ‘The vet said it’s probably because she missed me so much. Ugh, the anxiety!’
Laus was born in 2000 in Iloilo City in the Philippines, moving to London aged three. She was raised on Filipino ballads and folk songs from her father and absorbed her mother’s love for The Cranberries and Alanis Morissette. It laid the foundations for rebellious teenage years spent running headfirst into mosh pits and digging through the internet for feminist rock, making idols of Tori Amos, Fiona Apple and The Breeders.
When she was 17, her father bought her a secondhand guitar. She began uploading her music to YouTube, which caught the attention of British label Dirty Hit – home of The 1975 and Wolf Alice. After a succession of EPs, 'Coffee', the first song she ever wrote on guitar, was sampled on rapper Powfu’s 'Death Bed (Coffee For Your Head)' – and it went mega viral. Today it sits at over a billion streams on Spotify. Nomination nods from BRIT’s Rising Star and BBC Sound Of followed.
It’s in the vivid imagery of her music that Laus has captivated the hearts, minds and stomachs-whirling-with-butterflies of her generation. The 24-year-old’s lyrics capture vignettes of women’s experiences: messy romances and men who let you down, friendship break-ups that hurt like hell, grief, growth and gaining self-awareness when you’ve been playing the blame-game. And that same candid, relatable vibe is just as evident in our conversation as it is in her songs.
‘I used to cringe out at my first record,’ she admits, shielding her eyes with both hands. Her 2020 debut album Fake It Flowers was rooted in teenage angst, revenge for exes and adversaries, all baked into grunge-pop. ‘I couldn’t listen to it! I have a lot of empathy for myself today – like, “Awh, bless you! You’re going to be fine, Bea!”’ Now, she gives her teenage self more grace. ‘I see a younger girl going through this very necessary bit of life,’ Laus says. ‘I went through that sh*t for a lot of people to see. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without it, and it makes me appreciate that part of my life.’
Next came Beatopia in 2022, inspired by the singer’s childhood dreamworld and a spectrum of early 2000s music. ‘I used to really care about genre. I wanted to make rock music. I just needed to relax! Then I made Beatopia and my brain opened up to so much more. I loosened up about fitting into a category, musically or otherwise.’ With 2024’s This Is How Tomorrow Moves, Laus grapples with responsibility, approaching situations from romance to partying and self-acceptance with candour – all set to a luminous new sound. It’s her most confident, confronting and confiding yet. In a way, I’m figuring it out at my own pace. Just a girl who overthinks about proportions or her waist, the creases on her face, she sings on 'Girl Song'. ‘I wanted to make proper singer-songwriter songs, establish myself as that artist. So I was okay with it not doing as well on TikTok as Beatopia.’
Even so, the album really hit, and This Is How Tomorrow Moves became Laus’s first UK number-one record. ‘Getting to number one in the UK is special,’ she says. ‘My music does well in America, but what’s the UK saying, huh?! I just felt that I had truly achieved something amazing.’
The track 'Real Man' – with its jazzy beat and Laus’s sassy, saucy delivery – soon became a stand-out. ‘A girl made a TikTok dance to it… what the f*ck! This song is about disappointing dudes!’ she says. She was doing the dance on stage every night to fans’ delight. ‘Even the dudes were dancing. That’s how you know the song is doing the right thing.’
Case in point: when I saw Beabadoobee at London’s All Points East festival, young women in babydoll dresses and balloon skirts hung off of the barricades screaming her lyrics, holding friends tightly on one arm and cameras swinging from the other. ‘The whole album is navigating this entry to womanhood. 'Real Man' really gets to people. I’d never written about situations like that, even though I’d been through so many. Why hadn’t I? I’m not scared now.’
This album process was a different experience for Laus, who was used to recording in London and building songs largely by herself. It was recorded at the famous Shangri-La studio in Malibu with legendary producer Rick Rubin, who has hopscotched the industry and worked with everyone from Lady Gaga to Red Hot Chili Peppers. 'Beaches', a pivotal, personal song that has helped Laus to better understand herself, was squeezed in on the last week of production. ‘It just perfectly described how I was feeling at the time,’ she explains. ‘For ages, I was so scared of doing things. I was scared of stepping out of my comfort zone, and this album made me do it. Literally, stepping into new waters on the beach in Malibu.’ The lyrics are particularly poignant: Don’t wait for the tide to dip both your feet in. Laus says, ‘I was going straight in, headfirst… When I play it on stage, it takes me back to that moment of realisation.’
Laus is all about hearing ‘real life’ in music. ‘I think about beauty standards and how people botch their faces to be perfect. They lose their uniqueness. I feel like it’s the same with music. You want to hear the missteps, because that’s what makes it special.’ I ask her: what’s the musical version of a button nose? ‘Well, I don’t want it!’ she laughs. ‘Let’s keep it crooked.’
‘Maybe I’m writing a song and it doesn’t follow the exact rules of songwriting. Or maybe this word doesn’t make sense next to this one, but that’s how I speak. That’s why people relate to my music.’ Writing is a way, too, Laus says, to ‘soothe my inner child’. ‘I can’t do that when I write my diary or indulge in bad things, but writing a song is the purest form of art and emotion to me.’
In her touring era
Laus has been grafting since her adolescence. So, going from facing her computer screen at home to stadium crowds continents over, is she thinking about the new ears and eyes of her growing audience? ‘I do feel the pressure because the scale is bigger,’ she admits. ‘I have to constantly remind myself why I made music in the first place. I made music because I couldn’t sleep. Because I was having a panic attack. The only way to communicate my feelings was to write a song about it. I do this not because of the size it’s gotten to or the shows I’m going to play next. I still write songs like it’s my hobby. It’s amazing how it reaches other people, and I’ll always write with a sense of hope.’
Laus says she ‘would love to get to a point where I feel like I don’t give a f*ck’. But deep down, giving a f*ck will always be there. She puts it down to being a bit of a people pleaser and wanting her parents’ approval. ‘And then, in this line of work, sometimes people don’t think you’re good! You won’t win every single heart out there. But [I tell myself], “That’s impossible, Bea!”’
Despite that sentiment, her North America tour was a smash. ‘This is a dream come true, not to be sappy and sh*t,’ she tells the screaming, sell-out crowd at The Greek Theatre, Los Angeles, before introducing her next track. ‘It’s a break-up song,’ she says. ‘Awh,’ the audience responds in a collective pout. ‘But it’s okay, ’cos I’m in love!’ The 6,000-strong crowd goes wild as, alone on a brown leather sofa on stage, with just an acoustic guitar, as if she’s in her own living room, Laus moves into 'The Way Things Go.'
Her tour aesthetic was all her, and all vintage. Laus doesn’t work with a stylist unless it’s for an album campaign or event. She reached out to vintage stores on Instagram to build the romcom wardrobe of her dreams. ‘Like, 'Kiss Me' by Sixpence None the Richer vibes,’ she explains. ‘Cutesy. A 2000s romcom. Bridget Jones. I wanted polka dots and lovely dresses that I’d sling a crazy- looking guitar over.’ On her Cosmo shoot, she bops around the set singing along to Amy Winehouse’s Frank in a voluptuous fuzzy coat and acid-toned Sinead Gorey knits, twirling a skirt sliced with zips like a weapon and poring over the jewellery spread. It’s a big pendulum swing from her teenage style, when she’d wear baggy silhouettes and boxers on stage. She still thinks that Bea era was cool as hell, though. Blonde, first album-era Bea? Not so much. ‘I saw a throwback picture of myself with blonde hair that was reposted by a fan account. I DMed them. “Hi, I love you… delete it.”’
The tour has been a learning curve. Previous ones were punctuated by partying and ‘not being very healthy’, Laus says. ‘I cried on stage for all the wrong reasons,’ she adds. ‘I wasn’t mentally stable. This was the first tour where I could really feel everything.’ She took up ballet last year and kept up physical training to improve her stamina and vocal capacity. ‘I don’t think about the show, my anxiety – only trying to do a press-up. It was my first proper long sober tour, too. I had so much energy! And I really consistently cared about the performances and fan interactions. It was an interesting experience doing it sober.’
‘I’ve had my fair share of tours when I didn’t need to be sensible, and I absolutely was not,’ she says. ‘I’m a veteran of the game!’
Laus supported another veteran, Taylor Swift, on her Eras Tour in 2023. ‘She said she was doing this tour sober, and it made everything make sense. She’s a beast, dude – three-hour long shows every night, choreo. All this crazy sh*t. No sipping on alcohol! She also helped me see that even when things are so epic, mistakes happen. You keep going. She helped me learn to stop freaking out about the little things. It made me a better artist.’
Still, Laus has insecurities she battles. ‘Towards the end of the tour, I was going through a weird existential crisis. I’d catch these negative Instagram comments and TikToks of me from every fucking angle under the sun.
‘I have to really work at remembering that when the phone’s off, none of it exists. You go out for dinner with your friends, you go for a walk and you interact with reality. Social media is a tiny speck. I’m getting better at seeing that,’ she says. Laus had an American phone sim while travelling, so she couldn’t go on TikTok and had to use her manager’s phone to post; otherwise, she stayed very offline. It has improved her relationship with social media. ‘I don’t go out of my way to look for the negatives,’ she says. Her ‘For You Page’ is all cats, her friend Clairo’s shows, posh house tours and girls doing the Real Man dance. ‘But I started getting videos of people saying goodbye to their pets before they were put down… block that sh*t.’
Finding contentment
Fandom has been an ongoing point of entertainment industry discourse, particularly with artists such as Chappell Roan (Laus will play Primavera Sound festival with her in 2025) speaking out. ‘I really appreciate people such as Chappell who feel out of control and are honest about it. She’s open in a way that’s really important right now. How she asserts her boundaries makes it a better world for us all. I admire her so much.’
Laus has been speaking to her fans like friends since she was 17 and even has a group chat with ‘day one’ girls, who have followed her since her first EP, where they talk about their lives, work and gossip. And while she’s not afraid of the block button, Laus feels in a good place with public communication channels. ‘It’s important for an artist to say how they feel – if something annoys me, I’m gonna say it,’ she says with a shrug. ‘It’s out of love. I’m grateful that I have fans who care about me as an individual.’
‘I’ve had some wobbles on tour, but as soon as I spoke out about it, it was fine,’ she continues. I ask what constitutes a wobble. ‘Annoying people at shows! I was getting pissed off on stage because they were so distracting. If it’s affecting the enjoyment of other people, then that will piss me off,’ she says. ‘It’s tough, because at gigs I loved the chaos, shoving to the front and being shoved back.’
Being seen as a role model isn’t something she rides with. ‘I wouldn’t be able to write the music I make if I thought I was a role model,’ she says. ‘I wouldn’t post pictures of me smoking cigarettes or write a song about liking another boy. That kind of pressure is too much.’ Still, she has made an album about facing up to your own flaws and taking accountability – themes that resonate, whatever your age. ‘I do also think a role model shouldn’t be perfect,’ Laus says. ‘It should be someone who makes mistakes, admits them, learns.’ Laus would love to work with children – what that looks like yet, she doesn’t know. Maybe a nursery teacher. But while making the record in Malibu, she had a transformative chart reading with an astrologer. ‘She said that there will always be lots of chaos and confusion within me, and it’ll be communicated through my music. It will go away and bliss will come… when I become a mother!’ Laus says. ‘That makes me so happy! I love my cats, I love living things so much. It’s a part of me I need to fulfil – to work with children and have a family.’
Laus has been in therapy since she was seven years old, but stopped a year and a half ago, with some sporadic sessions before going on tour. While it significantly helped her outlook, she reached an interesting conclusion. ‘I got fixated on the fact that I was constantly talking about myself,’ she says. ‘And I know… I’m talking about myself right now! My job is to do interviews and to write music about my life. Then on top of that, I’m talking to a therapist for two hours and being existential.’ She feels most comfortable being open and vulnerable with her friends and boyfriend. Her friendship circle has remained largely unchanged since she was 11. ‘I’m in a very blessed position where I have women who share the same deep, traumatic issues!’
Laus’s boyfriend is a director, working with musicians such as Olivia Dean, Shygirl and Rachel Chinouriri. He’s directed Beabadoobee videos, most recently 'Ever Seen' and 'Take A Bite.' Sometimes they write songs together. She’s resplendent when she talks about him. ‘What’s hilarious is that I’ve tried to write a bad song about my boyfriend and every time it just ends up being a love song,’ she says, playfully huffing. ‘I physically cannot write a bad song about him! I remember with my ex, there’d be so many songs, like, “I fucking hate you.” I try, girl. I try so hard– it’s a testament to how much I love him.’
This album was her most introspective, and so for the next, Laus wants to keep it light. ‘I want to write music that makes people feel happy,’ she says. Ideas are percolating, including a tentative album title, but she’s forcing herself to stay chill. ‘Like, whoa, slow down, dude!’ She’s writing songs most days and having fun with it, making Jack Johnson-esque, saccharine love songs to make her boyfriend laugh.
When it comes to the UK leg of her tour, which will finish at London’s historic Alexandra Palace, Laus was most excited for the ‘mental’ British crowds. But the next few weeks are about finding a rhythm of life again. ‘I’m excited to have the time to get excited about things outside of album and tour mode,’ she says. Although she’s feeling tired, she’s revelling. ‘It means I’ve been making the most of staying out with my mates,’ she says. ‘I have a month to experience a lot of life, drink alcohol, see my friends and put it to music.’
The entertainment industry is rooted in, she says, a constant chase for something more – and she’s thankful to have time out of the music world motordrome. ‘Awards, fans and shows. I got caught up in that. But people screaming your lyrics every night isn’t an everyday reality. Success, for me, is happiness and contentment, appreciating what I’ve achieved with the people I love. ‘Amid the loudness of everything, I can lose it. But it’s my inner circle, being in a stable home with my cats and boyfriend, that makes me feel sure of myself.’
Lead image look: Top, Vivens Vintage at Depop. Jeans, Hollister. Shoes, Malone Souliers. All jewellery, Noor Fares.
Cover look: Coat, Natasha Zinko. Top, Alessandra Rich. Shorts, Fiorucci. Jewellery, her own.
Photographer: Lewis Vorn, Fashion Editor: Maddy Alford, Art Director: Alex Hambis, Editor in Chief: Claire Hodgson, Entertainment Editor: Christobel Hastings, Words: Anna Cafolla, Make up: Elaine Lynskey @ Premier Hair and Make up using SUQQU, Hair: Emilie Bromley, Manicure: Lilly Lam, Fashion Assistant: Thomas Brackley, Production: Beverley Croucher, Photo Assistant: Holly Ross, Digi Assistant: Jay Chow
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