Angsty tunes? Check. Nostalgia? Check. Teen rebellion? Fucking check!
One of my fondest memories as a teenager was sitting on the sofa before school, enjoying a delicious bowl of cheerios, whilst watching Kerrang’s fiery-haired sweetheart, Hayley Williams, rock out in a closet. These kinds of golden memories don’t just fade away. They stick with you for the rest of your life because your inner emo-teen lives on inside you.
Now, whenever I hear that opening riff on ‘Ignorance’, I’m back there, in my school uniform with milk down my front. My mum is telling me to take my washing upstairs and I’m getting ready to put my Clarks brick shoes on. Happy days; music is genius in that way.
I ask nowadays however. Hayley. Williams. Could there be a better frontwoman for a band with Paramore’s ambitions? I can answer that for you, no. With the ever-changing hair colour that self-proclaimed “indie boys” love to love, the voice of an angel (if angels had sleeve tattoos) that soothes the ears – no matter how loud she shouts “go get your shovel!” – and that spunky, humble personality, that puts the marshmallows in the alt-rocky road, what more could you want.
Granted, yes the music might detract you in this debate, but let’s look at the facts. They cranked out 3 consecutively solid albums, that’s no mean feat, especially in this genre. Hayley and co utilised their momentum dexterously and gifted us a trifecta of undisputed classics (All We Know Is Falling, RIOT! & Brand New Eyes).
Evolving their sound progressively, they kept things uber-fresh whilst maintaining their core sound, ensuring the world’s population of pop-punk obsessives would be firmly wrapped around their fingerless gloves for years to come.
The subsequent albums may not have surpassed the benchmark set by the 3 og’s that propelled them to international emo rock stardom, but it’s no matter. The release of After Laughter shows that they’re turning a new leaf, putting a bookmark on the past. But, they absolutely smashed it in my book.
Paramore will forever hold a place in my fictitious hall of fame as pop-punk gods. My 14-yr-old self will bow to their mounted plaque, emblazoned with an appropriate splattering of patina and rebellious attitude.
Listen to Paramore on Spotify and Apple Music.
