I remember the moment that I realized I was a big Paramore fan. Don’t get me confused when I say that—I want to emphasize the word realize, there. Looking at their full discography and reconciling the dates with what I can remember about myself at the time, I’m pretty sure I onboarded as a fan around 2007-2008 (during the Riot! era), when I was either an 8th grader or a freshman in high school. I just didn’t know how big a fan I truly was until I was in my early college career (around 2011 or so). I was organizing some playlists I’d intended on putting on my new phone, and I’d noticed that I had all three of their albums that they had out at the time. Not only did I have all three of their albums, but I realized I knew the words to pretty much all of their songs.
For 2011-Alex, that was actually pretty abnormal. I didn’t really believe myself to have a “favorite” band, and the only two full-albums I’d ever bought with my own money (which was basically allowance money, but I’ve digressed) up to that point were Sara Bareilles’s Little Voice and Eminem’s Curtain Call (Yes, I realize those are two very different genres of music). Most of the music in my collection was comprised of singles from artists I’d liked here and there, or maybe a few songs from a few albums… But I didn’t know I’d owned three consecutive albums from any band or artist. Sure, my parents probably bought them at the request of either my brother or myself, but it didn’t change the fact that I knew all of their songs. Like I said, as a non-committal to any artist or band (before my introduction to Taylor Swift), that was a pretty big deal to me.
Recently, it got me thinking about my relationship with Paramore, and how—out of every band or artist out there—I’ve always related to their music, no matter how old I was. That also struck me as strange, because—like most people—I went through phases of liking music/musicians. I had an Avenged Sevenfold phase. I had a Disturbed phase. I had an Eminem phase. I had a Frank Sinatra phase. I even had a weird showtunes phase. And while I still listen to all those things intermittently today, none of them has endured as constantly or in as high volume as Paramore has for me. I’ve literally never been disinterested in picking up the “next” Paramore album, whereas I don’t think I’ve even downloaded an Eminem song since Stan.
Hell, I guess you could call me a Paramore stan.
And I think the reason why my interest in Paramore has endured so vehemently over the years is because their music grew up with me, too. A lot of those other artists and genres stay pretty static, in my opinion. There isn’t much change to their music, album to album. But I’ve noticed that Paramore’s lyrics have had a subtle emotional evolution, much like we do as we grow up. So, in this blog post, I wanted to reverse-engineer my fascination with Paramore, and how I related to their music as I grew from a superficial angsty teenager, to a self-actualizing adult with a more complicated fear of the world. That being said, let’s start with where I remember being introduced to Paramore—with Riot!
I’m in the business of misery, let’s take it from the top
So, I guess during the Riot! era, Paramore was seated firmly in the Emo genre. Makes sense when you consider songs like Misery Business, That’s What You Get, and We Are Broken. These are all songs that 14/15 year old Alex resonated with hard. I was just finding out what dating (and getting broken up with) was like, and teenage hormones meant that the thing at the front of my mind was navigating a romantic relationship. Not only that, but being miserable and edgy was so in. Naturally, it felt like Paramore understood that when “nobody else did.”
And it's obvious that you're dying, dying
Just living proof that the camera's lying
And oh, oh open wide
'Cause this is your night, so smile
'Cause you'll go out in style
You'll go out in style
—Fences, from Riot!
Well now I'm told that this is life / And pain is just a simple compromise / So we can get what we want out of it
By 2009, Brand New Eyes had come out, and I was full-swing cringey teenager. I was also the gross PDA-ing type of teenager with my first serious then-girlfriend, with whom I would get into shouting matches on campus daily. So songs like The Only Exception, All I Wanted, and Brick By Boring Brick were staples of my personality by this time. I couldn’t be bothered to be told anything by any figure of authority because I was just too damn good for all that shit, man. And I definitely thought I knew everything important there was to know about life—and life was so hard (good god, can I PLEASE take those years of my life back…).
And the worst part is
Before it gets any better
We're headed for a cliff
And in the free fall I will realize
I'm better off when I hit the bottom
—Turn It Off, from Brand New Eyes
And after all this time I’m still into you
Oh man, 2013… By this time, my teenage angst had evolved into emergent-adult angst. With Paramore, the band’s self-titled album, things were not only beginning to change for me, but for the band, as well. In the four years since Brand New Eyes, Zach and Josh Farro had left the band. In my own life, my three best friends had recently just moved to study at UCLA, Cal Berkeley, and Cal Poly, and my latest then-girlfriend had moved off to study at UC Davis—I was insanely happy and proud of them, yet I was also incredibly sad and lonely. I was still stuck in my little hometown attending community college, feeling like I was stuck in a rut of self-disappointment and self-loathing. I was definitely feeling an indescribable mix of emotions.
Unless you were Paramore.
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
Don't go crying to your mama
'Cause you're on your own, in the real world
—Ain’t It Fun, from Paramore
—Side note, while this album contains two of my favorite songs in Paramore’s discography (Ain’t It Fun and Still Into You), it’s actually my least favorite album of them all. Isn’t that an interesting metaphor for my life at the time?
(Hard times) gonna make you wonder why you even try / (Hard times) gonna take you down and laugh when you cry / (These lives) and I still don't know how I even survive / (Hard times) / (Hard times) / And I gotta get to rock bottom
…Which bring us to the current era, as of this writing: After Laughter. Jeez, what can I say about After Laughter? By 2017, I’d graduated from college and was just getting my first taste of the real world. Honestly, I’m still there, now. But I seriously can not sing enough praise about After Laughter. You can tell that the emotions the band are trying to articulate are much more nuanced and undefinable than they’ve ever been. It’s an apt metaphor for being in your mid-20s, because you haven’t quite figured everything out, but you’re also definitely not a naive kid anymore. Songs like the sonically-upbeat Hard Times are sobered up quickly when you listen to the somber lyrics. Forgiveness is about wanting to forgive someone for hurting you but knowing you don’t have the strength in you to do it. Told You So is about eating humble pie when you realize how wrong you were about something. The entire album is layered in denial and self-destructiveness, but in a way that feels cognizant of itself, as opposed to self-bemoaning in the way a bratty teenager would be.
After Laughter is peppered liberally with dancey-vibey tracks that take a second or third read to really see underneath. It’s sort of like being aware of your own melancholy while knowing that it bums people out, so you try to put on a smile so as not to bug people with your sadness. You want to Fake Happy for everyone else’s sake, and perhaps also as a bit of performance art because you know you’re supposed to be happy—just like everyone else is, right? I’m 26, currently, as of this writing, and I can say without a doubt that I’m going through the weirdest set of emotions I’ve ever had the displeasure to confront in my life. I know that I’ve just recently exited life’s “tutorial” stage. I know that I’ve barely lived a quarter of my life expectancy. I know that this is still a relatively easy section of what my life will be. But knowing all of those things doesn’t stop me from feeling sad, or heartbroken, or hopeless, or incompetent. And yet, I feel compelled to fake being happy because I think it’s what I “should be.” I try to be appreciative of everything that’s going well in my life, but the insecurities just scream louder than I can quiet them.
And I think Paramore gets that.
Reality will break your heart
Survival will not be the hardest part
It's keeping all your hopes alive
All the rest of you has died
So let it break your heart
Hold onto hope if you got it
Don't let it go for nobody
Hold onto hope if you got it
Don't let it go for nobody
And they say that dreaming is free
But I wouldn't care what it cost me
—26, from After Laughter
Conclusion:
It’s been an interesting decade-and-some-change being a fan of Paramore. While most artists I’ve listened to over the span of the same time have seldom strayed far from the beaten path, it feels like Paramore has had an uncanny ability to gracefully wander to and fro, exploring different musical stylings while still speaking true to the relatable experience of being miserable—but also growing up to realize that there’s complexity to that misery. It’s not just vitriol and “you don’t understand me, mom!!”
I think being aware of sadness and allowing yourself to be with it for a time is really the only way of getting past it. Denying yourself a moment to grieve over whatever you need to grieve over is a fast track to becoming angry and resentful over things that are out of your control, and that can lead to hopelessness or worse. I’ve experienced a unique catharsis listening to Paramore at different stages of my life, and I think it’s because Paramore has an intimate understanding of what it’s like to be sad at different stages of growing up.
Maybe the most poignant example of this is a tweet Haley Williams sent on July 20th of 2017—a date which likely haunts fans of Linkin Park.
