Paramore: Three is a magic number

Forced to downsize in December 2010 after founding brothers Zac and Josh Farro made a fiery exit, Paramore have emerged after two years restless, experimental and more driven than ever. Frontwoman Hayley Williams, bassist Jeremy Davis and guitarist Taylor York are in Australia for the first time since – as Williams calls it – “the Paramore soap opera” first screened.

“It’s been kind of surreal,” says York, sitting forward on a hotel room couch next to Williams and Davis. “Everything’s supposed to be going wrong right now and it’s not.”

York is addressing the concerns of media and fans alike. After the Farro brothers left, dubious whispers circulated about Williams’ songwriting skills without ex-boyfriend Josh leading the charge – not to mention the fact none of the remaining three knew their way around a drum kit. But with the very sought-after Ilan Rubin (Lostprophets, Nine Inch Nails, Angels & Airwaves) now recording and touring with Paramore, the band are taking on new influences, injecting fresh fervour into not only their music but also their live show.

All eyes have been on Williams since the Farro foray; in a statement posted on their blog in 2010, the brothers claimed she was the only one contractually obligated to Atlantic Records, the silent distributor for Fueled By Ramen. They suggested the rise of Paramore was a careful strategy that only included them because the label approved of songs they wrote. When asked about Josh and Zac, Williams bows her head, picks her nails, and looks to York – an understandably less controversial channel to speak on the subject.

“Everyone kind of saw what it was,” says York dismissively. “There wasn’t any direct communication between the two parties so I think it was kind of out there for everyone to see.”

But with the release of their self-titled fourth album next month, the trio are hoping to change public perception. Ditching the much-maligned emo schtick for the type of sophisticated pop-rock that is best served howling and shiny, Paramore are demanding answers much in the way they did with their 2005 debut (All We Know Is Falling). However Williams isn’t 16 anymore – the new Paramore are clearer about their demands and just how they want them heard. On radio-ready lead single Now Williams sings “There’s a time and a place to die / But this ain’t it.” They may be falling in line with the genre a few years too late, but the pressure weighing Williams’ tiny shoulders coats the band’s revival with suspense.

“We found a lot of freedom [because] a lot of people were thinking we were going to be limited this time around,” Williams says. “It pushed us to find new ways to do things and what we found is we’re actually liberated by it.”

“It feels like we’re actually experiencing for the first time what a band is supposed to feel like,” adds York. “Going places and having fun, enjoying spending time with each other and not feeling like there’s always a struggle or a compromise to be had about everything.”

Justin Meldal-Johnsen, who produced the record, helmed the transition into Paramore, calling upon his experiences playing guitar for Beck and tours with Nine Inch Nails. “There was a smartness to his– ” Williams stops herself to laugh (“Smartness? Is that even a word?”) before continuing: “There was a smartness about how he approached certain elements that I think really comes from his experience with Beck. Then I think on songs like Fast In My Car or Part II [co-written with Meldal-Johnsen], there was something industrial and heavy about those songs that I think his love for goth and playing with Nine Inch Nails helped aid us in those moments.”

While they brought in Rubin on drums and Meldal-Johnsen to co-write five tracks, recording Paramore was far less stressful than its tumultuous predecessor, the ARIA #1 Brand New Eyes (2009). The band entered the studio in March 2009, having written just four songs, and had just three-and-a-half weeks to record it. “We were writing the full album, trying to record it and travelling on tour with No Doubt,” says Williams.

“And trying to mend our friendships at the same time,” quips Davis, Paramore’s most sporadic member in the early years.

This time, forced to discover dormant talents, the trio’s self-reliance led to a record full of uncharted influences, spinning a new dynamic within the band. “I know that Jeremy can play slap bass but the world doesn’t know that,” beams Williams. “We walk in the studio and he’s like [imitates the opening theme music from Seinfeld]. It’s things like that, where we were just constantly surprising ourselves and each other.”

While zealots are waiting impatiently for lyric sheets and liner notes to pore over in the hopes of decrypting clues about the fall-out, Williams says Josh and Zac don’t get a look-in. Paramore have farewelled the two brothers as well as the emo epithets that were shaped just shy of a decade ago in York’s basement.

“I think it’s easy to read over a song like Fast In My Car and be like ‘Oh, that’s a bitter sort of song that must be about Josh and Zac leaving the band.’ It’s actually not at all, it’s about the cloud that has been following our band for so long now,” says Williams. “We’re ready to leave all that behind us. We want people to give us that break. Let us live this moment, now.”