Tick tock tick tock.

I’m listening to All We Know Is Falling again after almost two years, maybe. I remember when I used to listen to it almost everyday. It’s amazing how different it sounds now- it’s a lot simpler, without the rich and interesting complexity that I’ve come to expect of Paramore now. I can literally hear the difference in the quality of writing and production- I used to be nostalgic and thought that the older stuff was best because it was closest to my heart, but an objective listen shows that the band has certainly come a long way in terms of depth.

I always knew that I would have to go catch them live when they came to Singapore, ever since I listened to All We Know Is Falling after catching it when it was thrown into the air at a gig at *scape. I added the band on LiveJournal and followed their stories and exploits for years, I watched all their videos on YouTube- especially all the little silly things that revealed so much about their character. I got excited with them as their passion for music and their fans brought them to places they had only dreamed of before that. I love that they’re small town kids. I love that they treat opening bands like fellow musicians. I love how friendly and humble they are on and off stage. I love how they make the effort to make every nameless pulsing crowd feel like the live experience is unique and special because of them. Paramore gives me hope.

It bummed me out a little bit when I caught them live right here in Singapore. The music was perfect, but the Paramore that played in the Indoor Stadium wasn’t exactly the same Paramore that I had fallen in love with all those years ago. I was hoping for the Paramore that played live at the House of Blues in Anaheim- the band that was on the verge of making its big break, that deeply hungered for the connection with the crowd just as much as everybody in the crowd, if not more.

I was secretly longing for the awkward gratitude and uncertainty that just wasn’t there anymore- the kids had grown up into polished performers with perfect grace and flair, hardened from hundreds of shows. Truth be told, the band doesn’t really need us anymore- they’ve reached the stage where anything they do or say will have very little influence over their success. It’s a somewhat depressing thought.

I still love them, though. They’re still an amazing band, and even though they’ve started to get used to doing what they do, they handle it with grace and humility- and they don’t have to. I will still buy their albums and I will still catch them if and when they come again, and I will still follow and support them through all their trials and tribulations. They still give me hope.

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PS: Maybe in 10 years time, they’ll be old and relatively forgotten by the mainstream madness, and if/when they’re still around or do a reunion tour or something, it’ll just be the Real Deal fans and the kids from Franklin, Tennessee. Connecting. As musicians and audiences should.