The exhilarating catharsis of Paramore at Radio City Music Hall, New York – gig review

When Hayley Williams hits the stage she doesn’t just glow, she beams. It’s something that although she’s been through tough times remains unwavering.

Fresh off the heels of their fifth record, Paramore have been travelling through the US on Tour Two with the support of Best Coast.

But as they perform on stage during Tour Two, it’s clear that emotions are running high for a variety of reasons: the mass shooting during Jason Aldean’s concert at Route 91 Harvest festival in Las Vegas, along with Tom Petty’s unexpected death, has artists and music fans alike shaken. “It’s been a gnarly week,” Williams states at the concert, just days after the Las Vegas attack. “We want to dance with you, sing, cry and laugh with you.”

It’s a welcomed, vulnerable moment from the band’s lead singer. Happiness and grief are often intertwined in Paramore’s work, so the aura of the evening isn’t unfamiliar to any attendees. Paramore’s show is equal parts therapeutic and plain old fun, and it pretty much hits the spot for New York City.

Fans are at the show because they believe in the gift of music and its ability to spread joy to one another even when safe spaces are being compromised.

And the band has reason to be joyful too: drummer Zac Farro has rejoined Williams and Taylor York for their latest run. It’s something that they all seem to be grateful for – they even play “Scooby’s in the Back”, one of the songs from Farro’s HalfNoise project.

Yet in between all the jumping, hair-flipping and thrashing in her gold-sequined dress, Williams also has moments of contemplation, quiet: a way that she was able to connect with the audience that has grown from the underground to the masses. The entire theatre goes into a trance as the band perform their ethereal Fleetwood cover of “Everywhere”, and even more so when Williams takes to the stage alone to sing the melancholy acoustic “26” from the group’s latest effort, After Laughter.

At this point in her life, Williams recognises her older self (“It was a lot easier to say things with a snarl”), but she acknowledges there’s power in vulnerability as she raises a faux glass, toasting: “To growing up and to misery,” before jolting across the stage.

By inviting two young fans up to sing the interlude on one track, it’s evident that her DIY ethos has remained after all these years – regardless of how big the crowd. The truth is that Paramore is a constant: no matter how big they get or how much things change, they’ll always be there to support you. “It’s like group therapy,” Williams says of their concerts. “It isn’t always easy, but it’s always worth it.”