LEASH (BABYGIRL ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK)

By By Kizita

After years of silence, unfulfilled promises, and industry limbo, Sky Ferreira returns with “Leash (Babygirl Original Soundtrack),” a capacious, synth-drenched ballad that marks both a dramatic evolution and a hard-won reclamation of voice. Released as part of Halina Reijn’s new film Babygirl, a psychological drama exploring BDSM and power dynamics, this track does more than serve its cinematic purpose. It reintroduces Ferreira as a wounded yet formidable artist, channeling her personal and professional trauma into a song of emotional volatility and gothic spectacle. “Leash” is not just a soundtrack addition; it’s a coded declaration from an artist who has long been denied a platform.

Ferreira’s struggles with Capitol Records are well-documented, stretching back over a decade and culminating in her unceremonious release from the label in late 2023. In the years leading up to that, fans staged billboard campaigns and aerial banner protests in a desperate bid to free her from a contract that had kept her from releasing a follow-up to her acclaimed 2013 debut Night Time, My Time. Those frustrations now find new life in “Leash,” where metaphor and melody merge in a swirl of anguish and control. The lyrics “Chains are heavy, pull me close to you / Every scrape leads me back to you” blur the lines between the fictional narrative of Babygirl and Ferreira’s lived experience. In both cases, the “leash” is more than physical; it’s symbolic of a damaging, dependent relationship that refuses to let go.

The track marks a midpoint between her past two singles, the harrowing, slow-burning “Downhill Lullaby” (2019) and the more formulaic, yet emotionally blunt “Don’t Forget” (2022). But “Leash” outpaces both, especially in its euphoric, almost transcendent chorus. It’s here that Ferreira finally seems to tap into the grandeur and drama of artists like Siouxsie Sioux, channeling the lavish melancholy of “Kiss Them for Me” with a modern synth-pop palette. The production is lush but never overwhelming, balancing ambient textures with sharp, echoing beats that accentuate her breathy, aching vocal delivery. It’s goth-pop through a cinematic lens, appropriately theatrical, yet deeply intimate.

What elevates “Leash” beyond its surface appeal is its emotional architecture. Ferreira doesn’t just sing, she unravels, builds, and breaks within the song’s structure. The countdown after the first chorus, “five, four, three, two, one,” functions like a ticking clock, a reminder of time lost, opportunities missed, and perhaps the impending detonation of yet another dream deferred. It’s a haunting gesture in a career littered with delays, and it cuts deeper because it feels so self-aware. The tension between Ferreira’s mythologized second album, Masochism, and the concrete release of “Leash” underscores a larger theme: Ferreira remains suspended in artistic limbo, even when she breaks free momentarily.

“Leash” is both a triumph and a tragedy. It reaffirms what made Sky Ferreira such a captivating force to begin with: a fierce emotional intelligence, a willingness to sit in the discomfort of trauma, and a voice that oscillates between fragility and defiance. But it also highlights the cost of that brilliance, how much Ferreira has had to fight just to release a song. Whether or not this signals a true resurgence or simply a fleeting moment catalyzed by A24’s deadline, “Leash” stands as one of her most fully realized works since Night Time, My Time. It’s a requiem for the years we lost, and a glimpse of the artist she might have become if only she’d been given the space to fly.