Paramore Shows Maturity in the Long-Awaited This Is Why

Written by Natalie Melendez

Just a few months ago, it seemed as if Paramore—the legendary Nashville-based pop-punk band that rose to fame in the golden age of 2000s emo with raucous hits like “Misery Business” and “Decode”—was gone for good. The band took a 5-year hiatus shortly after the release of 2017’s After Laughter to prioritize their personal health, quickly spurring break-up rumors among their audience. But comments like these have followed the band since the 2010 departure of founding members Josh and Zac Farrow. Since then, each band restructuring and period of silence has been met with mournful what-ifs. Williams’s solo releases in 2020 and 2021 didn’t do much to quell speculation, either. But in 2023, those rumors couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Paramore—now consisting of Williams, Taylor York, and Zac Farrow, who rejoined the band in 2017—have returned from their lengthy break with the wisdom of maturity and the restless agitation of 21st century living. This Is Why sees the band step away from the groovy synth-pop tunes in After Laughter and mesh their 2000s pop-punk roots with a subtle eeriness—an adequate sound for an album swirling with the subdued angst of adulthood. 

Through monotone vocals and playfully sharp strums, Paramore expertly covers up their pent up aggression in the first half of the album’s titular single—almost as if searching for the most mature manner to express their discontent. This slight restraint is also present in the initially jagged chords of “Figure 8,” but by the latter half of both tracks Williams grows tired of playing nice. She trades in politeness for fully-accusatory tones, reverting to some version of her merciless younger self. 

Elsewhere, Paramore feels emotions in their entirety. “The News” takes the award for most angsty track on the album, with its unwavering rage and whiny vocals—à la Riot (2007)—condemning the hopelessness of witnessing devastating news through a screen. Meanwhile, “C’est Comme Ça” walks the fine line between lingering adolescent antagonism and the reality of aging with its fittingly jittery chords: “I’m off caffeine on doctor’s orders/ Said it was gonna help to level out my hormones/ Lucky for me I run on spite and sweet revenge.”

Yes, everyone in the band is now in their thirties, but if the last few pandemic-filled years have taught them anything, it’s that anxiety is adept at hiding between the folds of time. “Running Out Of Time” and “You First” show this spectacularly by raising concerns about true intentions and morality—clearly, the trio has had enough time alone to look within themselves. The scaled back “Liar,” too, addresses repressed feelings, finding its balance in the acceptance of love and steady drums.