Paramore lead singer Hayley Williams surprise released 17 tracks on streaming platforms all at once on July 28. Rather than combine the songs into a single album, she did something unexpected; she released them first on a web player through her website before surprise releasing them at the beginning of August. Since the songs were not packaged as an album, fans took it upon themselves to construct their ideal tracklist orders by making their own playlists of the singles.
The songs were initially only accessible through a special code from Williams’ hair dye company, Good Dye Young, which provided access to the tracks in folders on her Y2K-style website. They were then made available on music streaming services Aug. 1. Williams disregarded the traditional album release method and did something unique, leveraging the excitement of a surprise release, as well as fan engagement.
After consulting fan opinions, Williams finally combined the songs into a solid tracklist and released them as her third solo studio album Aug. 28, named “Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party” after one of the record’s more mellow, R&B-inspired tracks. The result, although initially seeming scattered, creates a cohesive story that delves into Williams’ feelings regarding her long-term relationship with guitarist Chad Gilbert — which ultimately ended in divorce — as well as her view of her own stardom and creative freedom. The record showcases plenty of her signature pop punk vocal techniques, as well as some of her very best songwriting.
The album’s official tracklist places “Ice In My OJ” as the opening track, which serves as a metaphorical throat clearing and sets the stage for the rest of the record. “I’m in a band! I’m in a band!” Williams shouts during the chorus, demanding listeners’ attention and reminding us she’s ready to be listened to. Williams reflects on her success and evolution as an artist, and borrows a sample from “Jumping Inside,” a song she recorded in 2003 with the Mammoth City Messengers.
“Glum” is the second track, which dives into feelings of inadequacy and depression. “In the wake of your sunshine/I’ve never felt so glum,” she laments through an eerie vocal distortion.
The song was originally featured on a CD sent exclusively to WNXP, a Nashville, Tennessee, radio station, one week before Williams’ surprise release on her website. The CD also featured the song “Mirtazipine,” an upbeat ode to the anti-depressant her life depends on.
Next on the track list, “Disappearing Man” has a sound reminiscent of late 2000s pop punk and sees Williams realizing that the dissolution of a specific relationship wasn’t due to her lack of effort and love for her partner, but her partner’s inability to accept the good she had to offer. She has come to the harsh reality that she shouldn’t stay in a relationship for longer than what benefits her: “I know better than to hold my breath for too long.”
Some of the more hopeful moments on this record are found in “Love Me Different,” a song with a melodic earworm of a chorus. The track flips an ex-lover telling Williams that no one will love her like they did and turns it into a positive sentiment, one that believes a different kind of love would actually be for the best.
The record’s title track, accompanied by a music video, is a meditation on Williams’ fame, and how it became an untamable force, out of her control. There is an undercurrent of nostalgia running throughout the song, a sense of longing to once again feel like a big fish in a small pond. The song also contains a critique of Williams’ hometown of Nashville, and the negative ways in which it has changed. She mentions Nashville’s “racist country singers’ bars,” and longs for the city’s culture to positively change: “Can only go up from here,” she repeatedly insists on the chorus, as if in a trance.
On “True Believer,” Williams further expands on her belief in Nashville’s potential and reviles its dark past. She all but snarls the verses, condemning the American south’s history of racist violence and the rising gentrification of Nashville neighborhoods. “The south will not rise again/Til it’s paid for every sin,” she declares in the pre-chorus, and the words weigh heavy.
The song’s chorus, though, dissolves into Williams’ longing for a better city and reminiscing times long gone: “I’m the one who still loves your ghost/I reanimate your bones with my belief.” Dissonant piano chords ring eerily throughout the song, driving its harrowing message. The song truly stands out as the most stunningly haunting moment on the record.
On other tracks, Williams writes plainly about her ardent desires for true connection and love. “Blood Bros” is a mellow lullaby about the unbreakable bonds that form within relationships, reminiscent of some of the more slow-paced moments on Williams’ solo record “Petals For Armor.” Its melody is hypnotizing, and its lyrics are painfully vulnerable. “I Won’t Quit On You” is also a track that is a straightforward declaration of undying love and commitment.
In addition to the 17 tracks Williams released in August, the record also contains a new track, “Parachute.” The song is a gut-wrenching cry that regrets what almost was and could have been. In the verses, her voice nearly breaks with desperation as she practically yells: “You could’ve told me not to do it/I would’ve run/I would’ve run,” and in the song’s chorus, she makes a heartbreaking confession: “I thought you were gonna catch me/I never stopped falling for you.” The song is painful and real, capturing such raw and bold pain that it feels like a letter written never to be sent, only to burn in an act of catharsis.
Making “Parachute” the album closer is an interesting choice because it concludes on an unresolved note. In the song Williams is bleeding, still learning how to patch up her wounds and prevent future betrayals from happening. It seems to be an honest representation of where she is emotionally, rather than a forced conclusion of hope and healing to tie off the record in a neat bow.
Instead, “Parachute” leads the album to an unsavory ending where Williams is falling, spiraling, crying out for salvation. She hasn’t moved on from the pain, and maybe she never will. This conclusion to the narrative is unsettling but incredibly honest. Not all relationships end in a clean break, and some pain feels like it will last forever; the entire album faces that hard truth.
The displays of vulnerability on this record are not only shocking but incredibly brave. With its painful confessions, longings and outbursts, “Ego Death” may be Williams’ most fully fleshed out and impressive solo effort yet. Her melodic and songwriting sensibilities are at their very best here, reminding us that she is truly a once-in-a-generation talent.
