For the last decade or so, Paramore has been in a constant state of tumult and reinvention. The band’s latest statement is the new album This Is Why, which came out on Friday, Feb. 10. It’s their first in nearly six years, since 2017’s After Laughter. But to understand where Paramore is now, it’s worthwhile to see how they got here. 

The group first rose to fame in the mid-aughts as pop-punk wunderkinder, aged between 14 and 17 at their 2005 debut. In 2009, founding members and brothers Josh and Zac Farro, lead guitarist and drummer respectively, left Paramore in a whirlpool of interpersonal drama. In 2013, Paramore, featuring the new lineup of frontwoman Hayley Williams (the band’s only constant member), guitarist Taylor York, and bassist Jeremy Davis, put out a self-titled album which retreated from the band’s pop-punk origins and leaned more toward pop and alternative rock. Following that album’s touring cycle, Davis left the band, suing over songwriting royalties. During this time, Williams struggled with her mental health and even considered disbanding Paramore.

Then, in 2017, Zac Farro rejoined the band. With another new lineup, Paramore returned with After Laughter, an album that embraced synth-forward new wave, a glossy sound that contrasted with the record’s gloomy lyrics. After the album’s touring cycle, the band took another extended break. Williams put out two solo records in 2020 with acoustic, experimental leanings that were a far cry from anything previously in Paramore’s catalog. Finally, in the autumn of 2022, This Is Why was announced, alongside the single of the same name. Notably, it’s the first Paramore album to feature the same lineup as the last one; the band still consists of Williams, York, and Zac Farro.

On the title track, Paramore’s sound is reinvented once again, eschewing the last record’s glittery synths for stripped-down post-punk with funky bass lines, angular guitar riffs, and yelping, David Byrne-esque vocal inflections. Bloc Party, the English act who is opening for Paramore on its upcoming arena tour, is a clear influence. “This is why I don’t leave the house,” the chorus goes. Though “this” is never named, it’s nonetheless eminently identifiable. “This” is the pandemic, social unrest, political upheaval, mental health struggles, and the overall collective malaise that has defined the early 2020s for many. 

Following the title track, the nervy, dark “The News” marries Paramore’s new influences with the driving intensity of their early work, and is among the album’s highlights. Its lyrics point to the exhaustion that comes with witnessing the constant troubles of the world. 

“Every second, our collective heart breaks,” Williams sings, “shut your eyes, but it won’t go away.”

“Running Out of Time” maintains the shifting rhythms and spiky guitar riffs, but its spunky energy and engrossing production is slightly diminished by surface-level lyrics that focus on Williams struggling to do things on time.

“C’est Comme Ça” takes these trends further, with an impressively energetic instrumental and amusingly droll verses delivered in a flat affect, contrasted with a maddeningly simplistic chorus in which Williams repeats the song’s title. 

After the first four tracks, this new, jittery, post-punk style fades. Much of the ten-track album’s latter half leans more into mid-tempo guitar balladry, reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac. This new, more laid-back musical landscape begins with “Big Man, Little Dignity,” whose smooth, dreamy soundscape is paired with lyrics that take aim at an unspecified target. Whoever this man is, Williams’ lyrics feel half-baked in taking him to task. The repeated line in the song’s chorus is: “no offense, but you’ve got no integrity,” a toothless, underwritten insult from a songwriter who usually knows her way around a barb.  

A better execution of a similar subject comes on the next song, “You First,” whose richly layered guitar work and energetic, soaring chorus makes it the most urgent-sounding track on the album. Williams’ signature vocal firepower is paired with witty lyrics that examine the moral ambiguity of relationships and the resentment that comes from breakups. 

“Turns out I’m living in a horror film / Where I’m both the killer and the final girl,” Williams sings on one standout line from the second verse.

“Figure 8,” another highlight of the album, blends hypnotic guitar work and standout shuffling drum beats with another huge, intense chorus, in which Williams laments being caught in a downward spiral that keeps repeating, like the titular shape. Sonically, “Figure 8” comes off as a perfect medium between the distorted angst of Brand New Eyes (2009) and the more mature, reflective tone of After Laughter. 

Following  “You First” and “Figure 8,” the record’s energy subsides on a ballad, “Liar.” Paramore has a number of memorable ballads in its discography, from the slow-burn intensity of “Last Hope” to the quietly devastating “26.” Compared to tracks like those, “Liar” feels notably underwhelming. Though it’s pretty-sounding and moody, the song lacks a strong melodic hook and features a sleepy vocal performance, which prevents many of its heartfelt lyrics from being heard. 

“Crave” features a number of gorgeous musical textures, but it’s truly a frustrating listen. Williams’ vocals, York’s guitar work, and Farro’s drumming are all in top form, yet the song’s meandering melodies go in one ear and out the other. It is in search of an identity, feeling at times closer to something by Real Estate or Wet Leg than Paramore. 

The album closer, “Thick Skull,” begins as a quiet ballad, but builds to a crashing, intense conclusion. It’s satisfying in parts, but ultimately feels more like an echo of more effective versions of this formula from albums past. Like “Crave,” its rich, well-produced instrumentation and strong performances feel a bit like a great paint job on a flimsy foundation, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste as This Is Why comes to a close.

As a longtime fan, it’s difficult not to view This Is Why with mixed emotions. It’s a remarkably short album, with only ten songs coming to 36 minutes, only around 30 seconds longer than Paramore’s 2005 debut. One would have hoped that such a long time away would have resulted in a larger body of work or more polished songs. Ultimately, This Is Why isn’t a bad album, far from it. Songs like “This Is Why,” “The News,” “You First,” and “Figure 8” stand among the band’s best work, with sharp songwriting accompanying a mature aural palette that melds the band’s roots with new influences. Yet those standout tracks are sandwiched between frustratingly underwritten ones like “C’est Comme Ça” and “Big Man, Little Dignity” which, despite great production, lack the melodic power and lyrical heft that have defined Paramore across its numerous shifts in style. 

Given how burnt out Williams sounds from the album’s anxious, jaded lyrics, it’s easy to feel sympathetic and excuse This Is Why’s weaker moments. Regardless of the circumstances, This Is Why is perhaps the most uneven entry in Paramore’s star-studded discography, despite its exciting maturation in sound. Here’s hoping it’s not another six years until the next album. 

Oscar Kim Bauman can be reached at obauman@wesleyan.edu.