Beabadoobee takes her “This is How Tomorrow Moves Tour” to the Coca-Cola Coliseum with an exhilarating performance
By Liesl Korompis
As the adrenaline-induced crowd dispersed after Beabadoobee’s departure, I was left to collect my breath while I returned to reality. Physical proof of the experience lingers around my eyes – smudged eyeliner and flaky mascara accompanied by a hoarse throat from screaming all night. The night sank into silence as I walked home with my friends and we were all in an oddly vulnerable mood, spilling secrets as we passed by darkened windows and empty train tracks.
It’s been a while since any concert has been able to leave such a visible impact on me. To be completely honest, I wasn’t the biggest fan of hers, prior to this experience. Though I knew a large portion of her discography and played some of it almost religiously, I rarely took the time to seek out her music. This completely changed after listening to her live, where her sounds were elevated to a whole other level, cementing her as one of my new favorite artists.
Beatrice Kristi Laus, better known as Beabadoobee (or Bea for short), performed in Toronto for a night on September 15th. The 24-year-old singer rose to stardom in 2020, when her breakout collaborative hit with Canadian artist Powfu, “Death Bed (Coffee for Your Head),” trended on TikTok.
The crowd was humming with anticipation as I took a seat, waiting for what seemed like an eternity for her to emerge. The Coca-Cola Coliseum was packed with people everywhere I looked, dressed in babydoll tops, combat boots and lustrous ribbons. We let out a chorus of screams as Beabadoobee runs out onstage, greeting us with an infectious smile. She starts the concert with an electrifying performance of “California,” energizing the crowd and drawing a standing ovation. Bea keeps up the pace in “Talk,” an indie-rock song that sounds even better live than in the studio recording, which she closed with a crowd-pumping guitar riff.
Swiftly, the tone shifts with her performance of “Girl Song.” It’s easy to sense her vulnerability lingering in the atmosphere, as the crowd begins to sway to the soft lull of her voice. The person beside me is tearing up, exuding an emotion that my face mirrors, as her words pierce through the stadium. In this moment, I can feel every girl in the audience relating to her experience with their own. This, I believe, is one of the biggest appeals of Beabadoobee’s craft. She’s unafraid of fully pouring her heart into her artistry, enveloping the mundanity of growing up with a quiet magic that scatters itself into her lyrics and harmonies.
Her music is a reminder of what it means to be a girl without consideration for the male gaze. In an interview with NME earlier this year, Beabadoobee confesses that her latest record encapsulates her struggles with the inevitability of change and the turbulence of womanhood. It’s most evident in this song, where Bea tells the story of being stuck in a vicious cycle of constantly loathing her own appearance. One by one, phone flashlights pile up high in the air as she puts a voice to admissions that many of us aren’t brave enough to say aloud.
A personal highlight of the show, for me, was when she played “Beaches,” the lead single for her newest album This Is How Tomorrow Moves. Compared to her previous albums, this record has a distinctly mature tone to it, with a recurring theme of acceptance taking centre stage in its lyricism. “Beaches” quickly became a crowd favorite with its nostalgic quality and wistful motifs. The steady strum of acoustic strings paired harmoniously with the subtle, sparkling accents of the xylophone. It’s my favorite song from the album and seeing it performed in the flesh was nothing short of life-changing.
Effortlessly oscillating between romantic melodies to heart-wrenching ballads and lively anthems, the concert was an intoxicating rush from start to finish. There wasn’t a single dull moment as Beabadoobee rollicked through the setlist, captivating the crowd with songs she hand-picked, crafting an original experience niche for her audience.
When I remember that night, I always think about how light I felt afterward – like the invisible weight that had anchored itself in me had lifted and I could finally walk without aching.
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