More about: beabadoobee

It’s been almost four years since I saw Bea on stage for the first time. On tour with her Dirty Hit labelmates, No Rome and Oscar Lang, she was headlining at my local venue – a small stage often reserved to showcase local up and coming artists. Even then I was aware of her effortless command over the audience with a quiet confidence that has only grown since. 

I had only been in the venue mere moments when I realised I had lowered the median age of the immediate crowd by about five years. The group of young girls standing behind me had bunked off of school that afternoon to hold their places near the front of the queue – a line that wrapped around the perimeter of the building and beyond.

The ‘queuing epidemic’ has struck the concert world hard in the years since the pandemic.  The absence of live music has seemingly left in its wake an ardent desire to see artists face to face once again, or at least as close as the barriers permit. Luckily Somerset House is a rather forgiving venue, and a decent view of the stage is possible irrelevant of when you joined the line. 

However, my position towards the front meant I was amongst some of her most dedicated fans. In fact my ears feel like they’re still ringing from the sheer volume of their dedication – screams that were elicited for any possible sight of Bea or her band, but oftentimes was just a crew member coming to adjust a mic-stand, much to their dismay. 

Excitement was equally doled out for support act Mac Wetha, also a member of the Dirty Hit cohort. Though his set failed to resonate with those around me, his efforts to amp up the crowd in anticipation of Bea was admirable and his songs felt compatible with the matching slacker-rock of the main act to follow. 

Being amongst the many star-studded support acts for the Eras Tour, the artist has had a lot on her plate. She recently announced that she would be cancelling a run of headline shows across Europe due to ongoing illness that has continued to affect her ability to perform. However, after hopping on Instagram to reassure fans that despite this she would arrive ‘super hot and fresh’ on stage, Bea was on remarkably top form. 

Underneath the chorus of delirium, you could just make out hypnotic hums of her opener ‘Beatopia Cultsong’, as she strolled on stage, before picking up her guitar and playing the opening strums to lead-single ‘Talk’. Her set-list was a march through some of her most beloved songs and some deeper-cuts – mindful of dedicating time to tracks off of her earlier projects. Fan-favourite ‘Apple Cider’ soon followed, before the underrated screamo hit ‘Charlie Brown’ off of her debut album set the crowd off once again, somehow louder than ever before.

Years prior, Bea was hesitant to perform without a guitar in hand, expressing that it felt awkward to be around stage without it. Now a testament to how much her confidence has grown, she appeared at ease with a mic in hand whilst chanting the irresistible hook on ‘Last Day On Earth’, a track that invites you into Bea’s inner and outer worlds, reflective of the interior focus of most of her music. It’s this rapport between the artist and the listener that formulates such strong relationships with Bea and her fans, treading the line between a role model and a friend for young girls alike.

Finishing off her main set with the angsty ‘Cologne’, Bea shortly returned on stage, now seated with her signature acoustic. Despite the scale of the venue, the encore recreated the intimacy of an open-mic, falling almost silent to hear the new single she plans to release next week, (apart from the segment already shared on TikTok, which the crowd had already dutifully memorised). Finishing with perhaps an unconventional choice, ‘fairy song’ – a track that is full of imperatives as Bea admonishes herself for all her bad habits. In this context her words are turned outward, offering big-sisterly advice, “You need to drink water / Remember to pray / Eat so you’re stronger / And live for the day.” 

As she lists her version of the ten commandments, the crowd looks on in wonder, and I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride at how far she has come in those four years. Though her career is still in its infancy, it’s clear that her music is built for stages of a bigger size, if only to be filled with a bigger army of fans, desperate to uphold  her instructions for a better life in the hope to build a better one for themselves. 

See the view from the pit, captured by Rosie Carne:

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More about: beabadoobee