As an album it’s listless, inconsistent and generally addictive. Williams is more than the sum of her parts.
At a recent show in London, Paramore lead singer Hayley Williams took some time out from preening about the stage to slam Rolling Stone for having the audacity to suggest that she'd be better off as a solo artist. “I wouldn't be where I am without these two guys here,” she announced, doubtlessly sending the crowd into raptures of affirmation. Being attendees of a Paramore show though, they'd probably be aware that Williams is drawing a pretty long bow here. This is clearly a one-woman show, and the evidence is writ large on their self-titled fourth album.
Released in the aftermath of an extremely messy split with two of the band's founding members (brothers Josh and Zac Farro) – both of whom departed with some choice words on Williams and her status as Atlantic Records' golden girl (not to mention religion, sex and topless pictures; it got pretty out of hand) – Paramore is a record drenched in defiance. The target really locks in on tracks like Grow Up (“Some of us have to grow up sometimes”), Moving On (“Let em' spill their guts 'cause one day they're gonna slip on them”) and I'm Not Angry Anymore (qualified with “well... sometimes I am”) – all of which make it clear that Williams did not take the bust up particularly well, and is more than happy to share with the class.
Musically, Paramore is remarkable in its sheer audacity. Signature pop punk, U2-esque ballads, ukulele solos, gospel breakdowns, EDM and mariachi all pop up at one point – it's like an instrumental stunt show. As an album it's listless, inconsistent and generally addictive. Williams is more than the sum of her parts.