Paramore’s self-titled at 10: An album born out of rage and hope

In the first few lines of Paramore’s 2013 self-titled record, on the track “Fast in My Car,” Hayley Williams gives the listener an update: “Been through the wringer a couple times/I came out callous and cruel/And my two friends know this very well/Because they went through it too.” 10 years later, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better description of the band’s trajectory than this. 

Paramore, which celebrates its 10th anniversary on April 5, is an unyielding dream of the future — and the bitter wars you fight to get there. It’s a record that lashes out at you, begging you to accept the fantasy that this is a band undeterred by public adversities, while it ricochets with emotion that urges you to believe otherwise. 

Read more: Every Paramore album ranked

In 2010, Josh and Zac Farro, who were founding members with Williams, left Paramore. Still today, the full details surrounding their exit are unclear. One of the most direct explanations came from Josh himself in a now-deleted blog post, citing mistreatment from Williams and the band’s management. Although, Zac later stated that he had not been briefed on the contents of the post, and “did not fully condone” the statements attributed to his name. While the band was no stranger to hardship leading up to the split, there’s no question that this was the event that changed Paramore forever. 

Because of this, there’s a rage running through self-titled. Tracks like “Now” and “Part II” pack heavy punches in the form of Williams’ snarling vocals and an intense wall of sound from the drums, and York’s guitar threatens to swallow you whole. Because this anger presents itself early and in such a commanding manner, it’s easy to zero in on it. But Paramore is at its most captivating when you realize it’s also laced with fear, humor, hope, and even grief. Essentially, it’s a record in mourning. 

In an interview with Billboard in 2018 Williams stated, “I read this thing once about Tolkien and C.S. Lewis — when one of them died, their whole group of friends changed completely because with one of them gone, the part of each person that that person brought out of them died too. When Zac left the band, I lost a part of Taylor; I lost a part of me.” 

Born out of the band’s tumultuous experience, the album chronicles the early 20s rite of passage that is grieving friendships that have come and gone. Sometimes you drift apart, nothing and no one to blame but the passing of time. Sometimes, however, the breakdown can feel near fatal. “Last Hope” is the emotional center of this theme and a result of Williams feeling as if she “lost her purpose” following the departure of her bandmates. And while it’s full of hurt, it’s also the track where the crux of the album comes into the spotlight: amongst rage and fear and love and grief, there is hope for the future. “It’s just a spark,” Williams sings defiantly. “But it’s enough to keep me going.”

When it was released, Paramore was criticized for lacking cohesion or sounding scattered and maic. That’s why it works. “Fast in My Car” is a tongue in cheek flaunt of growth that peels away into the biting rage of “Now,” a song which Williams described as attempting to seize control of the violent cycle you’ve found yourself in and destroying it. The remainder of the album flips between humorous bravado and a war to claim your own future, interspersed with what remain some of the band’s most vulnerable tracks. 

Paramore also employs one of the band’s most interesting album structures. The record is broken up by three interludes, a trio of tracks driven by Williams’ vocals and a ukulele. While they may not appear important alongside tracks like “Ain’t It Fun” or “Grow Up,” they lend themselves nicely to the album’s coming-of-age arc. “Interlude: I’m Not Angry Anymore” is the perfect encapsulation of the petty games we play when trying to move on from a fight. “I’m not angry anymore/Well sometimes I am,” Williams sings. “I don’t think badly of you/Well, sometimes I do.” What’s a coming-of-age story without moods that can change on a dime? 

Unlike the beginning of the record, the album closer “Future” starts off quiet. A sprawling eight-minute song, the lyrics serve as a brief but sound comfort that no matter what pain you’re feeling now, the future is wide open. “Just think of the future/Think of a new life/Don’t get lost in the memories/Keep your eyes on a new prize,” Williams vocalizes over not much more than a simple guitar riff. It leaves you wondering if the band has been successful in weathering the storm. The answer is slightly more complicated than just a yes or no. 

After the vocal section of the song ceases at only three minutes in, the band fades in. The drums are crashing and York’s guitar is as blazing as ever. Like tracks that came before it, it feels inhabited by rage, indicating that perhaps the cycle of violence can’t be broken. The anger of the music feels different this time around, though. It’s controlled, measured. It’s a promise that grief and loss will come again, but when it does, you’ll know to carry that spark of hope with you. 

Since the release of Paramore, the band has undergone changes that saw the departure of bassist Jeremy Davis in 2015 and the return of Zac Farro in 2017, a Grammy Award for Williams and guitarist Taylor York, and two acclaimed albums. Despite being put through the wringer as a band, there is a new air about Paramore these days. Their performances are filled with invigorating confidence and a freedom that seemingly only comes with age, and the band (which has consisted of Williams, York, and Farro since 2017) has demonstrated a togetherness that has been hard-earned. Their most recent 2023 release This Is Why is a sublime product of the fight to keep this band alive — but without Paramore, that album could not exist.

The Paramore that exists today is special because it was fought for, and remains indebted to records like their 2013 release. Pain and loss and love and passion are ingrained in Paramore’s past. The future of the band, like all things, is a mystery. But as Paramore’s opening track states, “Already proved we can tough it out/And we get along so sweetly.”

Source: altpress.com