REVIEW: Paramore's This Is Why

  

For kids who grew up with the explosion of the internet and the mobile phone, Paramore’s pop-punk emotional honesty has the universal appeal of tie-dye, checkerboard Vans and Hot Topic. Almost ten years after “Still Into You” and “Ain’t it Fun,” their raspy guitar lines and lead singer Hayley Williams’ cathartic choruses still scratch that itch on the inside of your ribs telling you to screw insecurity and let it all go. Paramore’s influence is easily heard today: Lil Uzi Vert’s angsty melodies were inspired by Hayley Williams, Snail Mail’s raw soulfulness came from the sound they pioneered, and Olivia Rodrigo’s no.1 hit, the “Misery Business”-interpolating “good 4 u,” credited Paramore as writers. 

But Paramore’s musicality has also matured as their late 2000s-early 2010s generation fans have grown up. Their last album, 2017’s 80s rock-inspired After Laughter, was more vulnerable and reflective: acknowledging the difficulty of going commercial and existing after the departure of key members Josh Farro and Jeremy Wrangler. Standouts like “Tell Me How” showed a weathered, emotionally worn side of Williams, who accepted her lack of choice in her relationship instead of railing against it. 

Now, almost six years since After Laughter, Paramore are back with This Is Why, which recalls a more familiar post-punk sound. According to Williams, the album is a “culmination of lessons learned over the last four or five years,” and is about the difficulty of navigating personal and social life in the context of salient political issues. At its best, This Is Why captures the emotional awareness that we’ve come to expect from Paramore, but overly safe vocals and cliched political lyrics make large parts of the album unmemorable.

This Is Why shines in musically lush moments where Williams continues to show the resolute emotional strength she has developed from years of struggles with relationship drama, mental health, and stressful expectations as an artist. “You First,” which deals with the tension between being idealized as a hero by fans and the internalized dread of being defined by one’s mistakes, flourishes with varied textures. The song’s instrumental modulates from a familiar rough-around-the-edges choruses to smoother, more muted lines that sound like deep breaths—with small sparks like electric guitar feedback on the song’s bridge flashing throughout. Likewise, “Crave” glides along in a lonely, atmospheric state: making peace with a tumultuous past. Williams’ declaration that “There isn’t a moment I’d wanna change” is both a forgiving reflection of past depression and a gentle call for perseverance. And album closer “Thick Skull,” after looking back on all the pain that Williams internalized, all the blame she took as the lead singer, doubles down on the theme of resilience. “I’m coming out with my hands up,” she cries, accepting responsibility for an uncertain future ahead.

But the album falls flat when it attempts to tackle global political issues, with ostensibly relatable lyrics coming off as vague, uninspired millennial ruminations. Williams is 34 now, and This Is Why features some bars that sound like ChatGPT was asked to create rhymes based on conversations about the latest headlines overheard at a brunch spot in Brooklyn. The title track lets loose with vague expressions of resentment at the world, leaving the listener wondering what to do next. Even worse, “The News” repeatedly hits listeners over the head with lines like “Every second, our collective heart breaks/all together every head shakes” or “Exploitative, performative/ Informative and we don't know the half of it,” saying everything and nothing at the same time. The sense of a disconnect is off-putting, given Paramore’s past affinity for community and coalition-building (for example, their love for their Black fanbase and the Black artists who influenced them). 

Adding to this sense of gauche throughout the album is Williams’ often underwhelming vocal performances. Paramore is at its best when the vocals have an unsettled edge, but large parts of This Is Why lack genuinely interesting vocal twists, with no sense of urgency or risk. “C’est Comme Ça” feels largely monotonic, like Williams is attempting to wake up a dead crowd. The refrain of “Running Out Of Time” feels safe to the point where it is unmemorable, like an overly polished Adam Levine melody. And while “Figure 8” is built on the classic push-pull of a thorny hook and relatively understated verses, the expressiveness of its chorus seems too contrived—more loud sigh than scream from deep down. 

        While This Is Why may not be Paramore’s best work, it represents the end of an era. As it concludes their contract with Atlantic Records, it solidifies the personal growth and maturity that the band has cultivated over the fifteen years since the messy hairdos and rebelliousness of their breakout “Misery Business.” Paramore are a band with nothing more left to prove, and songs like “Thick Skull” show that they are well aware of that. A short, minimal outro of twanging strings closes the album, over which Williams confesses in a near-whisper that she is “caught red-handed.” It sounds like the pensive hug of one last goodbye.