James Beastly chooses to move through sound. On ‘We Should Be Animals’, his third full-length, the San Francisco songwriter trades in the jagged edges of indie rock and punk for something softer and more patient without losing the emotional volatility that made his earlier work feel so alive.
Born from the anxious backdrop of the 2025 LA fires and an impromptu creative refuge shared with long-time collaborator Jeff Andrews, the album carries the strange duality of crisis and connection. I felt the sense of fragility held together by warmth, as if every note is aware of how easily things can fall apart, throughout the album. Instead of leaning into chaos, Beastly leans into kindness, which makes this album stand out to me.
The opening and title track, ‘We Should Be Animals’, sets the tone beautifully. It’s gentle, almost disarmingly so, soft vocals drifting over restrained, tender instrumentation. There’s no rush, nor any urgency to impress. It simply exists, inviting you to slow down and sit with it. That feeling carries throughout the record, where alternative pop textures blur seamlessly with folk sensibilities and hushed, almost ambient arrangements.
Tracks like ‘Persona Non Grata’ and ‘Ephemera’ showcase Beastly’s ability to stretch his sonic palette while keeping things emotionally grounded. Even at its most expansive, the album never overwhelms. Instead, it soothes, layering subtle shoegaze flourishes and delicate strings into something that feels deeply human, conversational. It’s music that doesn’t demand your attention so much as earn your trust.
Most striking to me is how the record grapples with the fear of happiness. A quiet tension runs beneath its calm surface, a sense that peace is fleeting, that joy might slip through your fingers if you hold it too tightly. And yet, rather than spiralling, Beastly seems to accept that impermanence. The songs breathe because of it. By the time the closing track arrives, there’s a feeling of gentle resolution, a full-circle moment that mirrors the opening, but with a little more weight, a little more understanding. It doesn’t tie everything up neatly, because it doesn’t need to.
‘We Should Be Animals’ is a rare kind of record; one that feels both intimate and expansive, fragile and reassuring. In a world that often feels too loud, James Beastly has made something quietly profound, a collection of songs that remind you it’s okay to soften.
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