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Music

Hayley Williams: Mother of Dragons

We sent a writer to see Paramore's first headlining show at Madison Square Garden to confirm what he's long suspected: Paramore are the world's best rock band.

Photos by Rachel Walker

"We dreamed this up and it's real!" exclaims Hayley Williams on the occasion of Paramore's first headlining performance at Madison Square Garden. Of course, Hayley Williams is no ordinary woman; her dreams come true, with fire and blood.

From its inception, Paramore would go as far as Hayley's voice could take them, but recent events, including a pair of well-publicized band member departures, had conspired to make this moment, which once seemed all but assured, somewhat unlikely. So tonight, after nearly a decade spent toiling among the Fearless Music / CMJ / Warped Tour circuit, Hayley can't help but express genuine appreciation to her constituency for "the most memorable night of our entire careers." Flanked by her extant bandmates, guitarist Taylor York and bassist Jeremy Davis, Paramore delivers a characteristically enthusiastic and exhilarating 21-song set, drawing from their entire catalog.

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But I'm not here to offer some dispassionate account of the evening's performance. I'm here for the essence of music journalism: free tickets to a concert. I'm here to confirm what I've already come to suspect:

Paramore are the world's best rock band.

For those with a soft spot for well-executed guitar-driven pop-rock, Paramore have already released the year's best albumand one of its most rewarding repeated listens in any genre. Paramore, their first Billboard #1, explores a number of surprising stylistic directions from 60s pop ("One of Those Crazy Girls") and ukulele ditties ("Moving On;" "Holiday;" "I'm Not Angry Anymore") to full gospel choir-assisted New Jack Swing worthy of Paula Abdul ("Ain't it Fun"). Hayley sells every single one. Her vocal melodies have grown more adventurous, her lyrics more thoughtful but never overwrought. She's the real deal.

Still, you wouldn't know it to read your precious Internet. There are no think-pieces about Paramore. They don't lend themselves to the preoccupations of the critical cognoscenti and its uncomfortable relationship with flawless virtuosity.Certain unnamed websites don't even consider them worthy of review. Alas, the type of person who writes about music on the internet is not predisposed to enjoying arena rock. Frankly, I don't think that's entirely fair to arena rock bands. They're part of this world! You can't pretend Paramore don't exist for your own convenience. This isn't the result of inertia or internet buzz or intrusive marketing. You suspect there's something cynical about Paramore. I'm telling you, there isn't.

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A quality arena rock band can project to the furthest row and make a venue designed for hockey feel as intimate as a basement punk show. Paramore are now in that rare class. They belong in an arena. For Hayley is a mutant of refined and terrifying talent, like Magneto escaping his plastic prison or LeBron in the open court; she reaches for the highest notes to sing them as loud as she possibly can. When she releases the tension and fills the entire arena with the sheer force of her banshee's howl, the climaxes are all the more thrilling. Usually this level of skill should border on uninspiring. Hayley Williams isthe excellence of execution. She fucking nails it.

Clad in a chevron-patterned pull-top with leather pants, her midriff exposed,Hayley bounds across the stage with relentless energy, spinning and twirling like a butterfly with a tattoo of a full-sized human being. She commands the crowd effortlessly, at one point guiding the entire audience through a simulated singing tutorial.

With Paramore there's no risk of pretense or irony. When the aforementioned full gospel choir emerges for "Ain't it Fun", it's revelatory instead of bemusing. When they close their first set by inviting a lucky fan on stage to sing the bridge to their breakthrough single "Misery Business" together, it's a genuinely touching moment. I was jealous. When they tease Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide" midway through live-staple "In The Mourning," a particularly fearsome looking gentleman sitting behind me screams, "Keep going!" and everyone agrees. She's our Stevie Nicks. We've found her.

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Normally when a band achieves this type of success, it's from getting worse. You know who they are. The more they insist on sucking, the more popular they get, and with each show your tickets get more expensive, your seats farther away. Then they stop playing your favorite songs.

There's a truly awful song on the radio now by electro-house producer Zedd called "Stay the Night" that features lead vocals from Hayley Williams. The song would seem to suggest we've begun the slow, ponderous march toward Hayley Williams, Inc.'s IPO: solo albums; guest appearances on Lupe Fiasco records; and Revlon® Colorsilk Luminista™ commercials.

For tonight at least, Paramore are here because they keep getting better. Their new songs are your favorite songs. Only Paramore want to be BIG and GREAT without the reluctance that typically compromises such lofty goals. This is the band to see. This is the time to see them. I would have paid to go. I would have gotten my money's worth.

Setlist:
Grow Up
Fast in My Car
That's What You Get
Decode
Ignorance
I'm Not Angry anymore (Interlude)
Now
Daydreaming
When it Rains
Last Hope
Brick by Boring Brick
Holiday (Interlude)
crushcrushcrush
Ain't It Fun
Only Exceptions
In the Mourning / Landslide
Pressure
Misery Business

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Part II
Moving On (Interlude)
Still Into You

Barry Schwartz would like you to know there are only 131 more days until Game of Thrones starts back. He's on Twitter - @DiscoVietnam