Hybrid Moment: How Paramore & Fall Out Boy Exemplify Pop’s Experimental Future

Perhaps I’m alone in this conundrum, but I don’t know how to fully classify the likes of Paramore and Fall Out Boy. (Aside from maybe, like, “Scene Rock” thanks to questionable past hairstyle choices.) They’re emotional, but miss the sonic mark of true emo. They certainly draw inspiration from punk and metal of yesteryear, but their sound is too homogenized to be of a pure lineage. And “plain ol’ (pop) rock” seems to be missing out on something essential.

Now, thanks to the release of new singles from both bands, there is even more genre-blurring occurring between these likable rockers. With the undeniably catchy “Hard Times,” Paramore has whipped up a tasty lil’ Mojito comprised of breezy indie pop, a drizzle of Blondie New Wave, and a dash of Talking Heads absurdity. Meanwhile, FOB embraced the clunky fringes of dubstep with “Young And Menace.” (Yes, like this dubstep.)

The former is a hugely important leap forward.

The latter is a ginormous misstep.

Understanding the difference is essential.

As these bands continue to evolve creatively, and we as consumers try to make sense of their movements, these sonic samples are just as vital as an airplane’s black box. They can tell us how and why bands decide to experiment, what makes for meaningful musical pieces and what’s better left on a junk drive, and what this all means for popular music as we all know it.

Everybody’s Doing It

It’s not that sonic experimentation is some new trend; rare is the band or artist who has been able to maintain long-term consistency with only slight variations (I’m thinking The Rolling Stones, George Strait, and Mariah Carey as noteworthy examples). Nearly every act has gradually tweaked their sound over the years to reflect lineup changes and societal trends or personal triumphs and tragedies. But in recent years, I’ve noticed an uptick in the number of bands changing up their sound and to what degree and frequency. I can’t count how many times I’ve gotten a press release in the last 8–10 years and saw indie bands swapping musical horses mid-stream. Some of it’s subtle, like a Cage The Elephant, while other bands have had more drastic transformations (MGMT, anyone?) Some of that is access to better equipment and growing pains of young artists. The rest, however, is reflective of an artistic generation more multifaceted than its predecessors.

One of the more obvious signs of this changing of the guards is the sheer number of cross-genre collaborations. In the last few weeks alone, we’ve heard strange bedfellows in Kendrick Lamar-U2 and Chainsmokers-Florida Georgia Line (the latter makes sense given a shared tendency for the overblown). Artists are coming together to (figuratively) swap chunks of flesh to facilitate the great musical blending. And so in that way, FOB and Paramore are just following suit, reflecting the tendencies of pop music as a whole as the genre and its many artists find ways to perpetually grow and adapt. To some extent, all bands have to make certain targeted artistic choices (like tailoring to a niche market) if they want to achieve and maintain pertinence (be employed and sell records).

Yet it’s not just about appeasing the corporate beast, or even appealing to fans who want new and titillating sounds like a 32nd flavor at Baskin Robbins. Boundaries in art (like genres in music or fiction) are necessary for basic structure, but are often made overly rigid by buzz-killing purists. Weakening these boundary lines, and allowing for lateral movement by artists, is a way to bring a sense of freedom and curtail a tendency to turn an organizational tool like “synth-pop,” “mathcore,” or “IDM” into unscalable ghetto walls.

Striking At Greatness

In an interview with NME, FOB noted that, as jarring as “Young And Menace” may sound, they do have a history of pronounced sound-hopping. In explaining this latest “iteration” of FOB, the band made allusions to the likes of Kanye West and David Bowie, whose chameleon-like approach to music was born out of a desire to reflect their times. (Ye brought back soul, and Bowie pushed us closer to a tech-centric existence.) In this pursuit, FOB clearly couldn’t have chosen a more timely muse than dubstep. (Not to mention the song sounds like, as the band itself pointed out, a dial-up modem, which only furthers our shared affinity for nostalgia.) I’ve written in the past how dubstep is very much a reflection of the 20-Teens, a time where primal sound and good vibes carry real weight with audiences.

However, it’s perhaps not the best choice of musical paint jobs given that it doesn’t quite fit with the M.O. described by FOB. That is, if you’re going to make (even non-directly) comparisons to Bowie and Yeezus, it’s best to actually reflect what those acts did best. They pushed musical boundaries by pulling threads from sounds and movements and other creators, making something that wasn’t of the moment and yet still wholly familiar. FOB merely slapped some dubstep-ian junk noises on and called it something fresh. All that might make for something that sounds new, but still feels disconnected. The Bowies and Yeezus of the world made choices to perpetuate ideas, and to recycle culture in a way that would make you think about past and future simultaneously. I can’t help but think of the Chainsmokers/FGL collabo— it feels like a gimmick devised either to A) confuse or scare folks into listening or B) merely entice fans who are already on board. Similarly, FOB’s efforts only feel of this time in that they’re wavering in earnestness and slightly inorganic.

Brand New Roads

So, then, what did Paramore do to make “Hard Times” a generally enjoyable song that excites people for whatever comes next? In their own supporting interviews, the trio explained that this is a different kind of Paramore. The band almost ended, and singer Hayley Williams had plans to start over entirely. It makes sense that, given all of the heaviness and drama surrounding the band in recent years (which included noticeable lineup changes), that they’d go for a much lighter, more bubbly sound. Something like indie pop, with those bright harmonies, endless synth grooves, and ’80s day-glo sheen, feels like a purposeful step to reclaim something that was lost. A sense of innocence and an uncomplicated love for making music. Indie pop as pallet cleanser, and a rush of sugary sounds to make the world seem alive after all that bad news and even harsher vibes.

At the same time, this was as much a strategic move as it was an emotional one. If dubstep is popular with the youngsters, than indie pop has nearly as much appeal with younger music fans and hip tastemakers, and that’s an important market to nab if Paramore wants to continue to remain essential in the pop music conversation. Embracing such an obvious source of musical joy and commercial resonance is a wise move that more bands should be utilizing. Making art isn’t always about blindly following some muse — there has to be an awareness of the market if you’re going to get to keep going. It just so happens that Paramore chose a side road of lush pop lined with plenty of sonic opportunities and creative connectivity.

All Sound and Fury

For FOB fans who heard that the band had made a “dubstep song,” they might have felt an immediate and visceral reaction. (Perhaps involving the return visit of this morning’s onion bagel.) But even if you don’t like dubstep, the band still could have done something with those core ideas and influences to make the song stronger. FOB’s commitment doesn’t feel as appropriately intense, skimming the surface of ideas and adding more noise than unique patterns or textures. There was a similar problem of perception faced by the Lamar/U2 collabo, “XXX.” It seemed bonkers on paper, but the track works because they balanced Kendrick’s progressive rap ways with the rock ethos of U2, enhancing each component together as opposed to layering it all like so much slop. What we’re left with from FOB’s single feels more like a head-nod toward EDM pits than a respectable immersion into this unique framework.

It’s that sort of commitment that makes Paramore much more of a success. On the one hand, they totally nail some of the more subtle aspects of their many influences: the synth groove may dominate, but the brash guitar is nonetheless a driving force; the structure and intensity is still very much a Paramore rock song, with angst and emo overtures; and Williams does a good job of injecting a David-Byrne-meets-Debbie-Harry impression into her usual Pat Benatar 2.0 schtick. But it’s as much a visual affect as it is purely sonic. The music video is a similar mishmash of bright colors and ’80s homages, but it feels more like a genuine choice and tribute than something done simply to push downloads. As if the band stopped to measure these new influences and how it might change their entire aesthetic and how that would be perceived.

I don’t want to say this is a matter of Paramore choosing something that felt real, while FOB just did something to drive conversation and make people pay attention. (OK, I want to say that a teensy bit.) I’m not questioning anyone’s commitment to pushing artistic boundaries; I am willing to say that the execution of this whole process makes a big deal, and FOB left me (and undoubtedly other fans) feeling as if this isn’t the most cohesive direction. Change of any kind is great if there’s more to it than meets the eyes/ears, and so often the final product (in this case a mostly unsettling FOB song) is a reflection of the intentions and emotions that created it.

Building Up The World

FOB’s history of sonic hopscotch is unique in that there aren’t just changes between albums, but between songs on a given LP. They have a skill in blending and highlighting ideas and influences in a way few other bands have achieved. Take, for instance, Infinity On High (a personal favorite), in which they deftly bound between tinges of R&B, Spanish folk, dance, and other diverse sounds, all held together with the band’s trademark, unabashedly saccharine rock ’n’ roll. Subsequent LPs have seen them jump around some more: 2015’s American Beauty/American Psycho was more sample-heavy, while this year’s MANIA is meant to be a raw, decisively political effort. FOB deserve all the credit in the world for sheer bravery in exploring whatever interests they developed, and embracing sounds that might seem foreign, even as straight rock music would be an easier path.

However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention an important element of Paramore’s musical migrations: they’ve built to this moment. 2013’s self-titled LP was a sampler platter of pop ideas, and now if the rest of Paramore’s upcoming After Laughter follows a similar accessible path, it’ll feel more like a slow-moving story unfurled via song. A journey toward something brighter and more nuanced, and we as listeners can trace their immersion into pop and subsequent growth (or lack thereof). FOB’s efforts may be more daring in a sense, but that accompanying sense of chaos doesn’t feel as satisfying. Because if the dubstep thing doesn’t work out, there’s always a million other ideas for them to chase down. In a world with all this endless tinkering, some consistency makes a huge difference, and grounds these efforts outside cynical assumptions (like being an expression of a marketing campaign).

There has always been a certain hesitancy among fans regarding a band’s musical growth. It isn’t just that they don’t like new songs, or appreciate the addition of synth or saxophone. There exists some subconscious fear that everything that came before may somehow be less significant or even merely transitional. But fans should hold on to that sense of hesitation — it keeps artists accountable when they decide to go from making dance-pop to recording hardcore-inspired Tuvan throat singing. It creates consumers who appreciate the context of an artist’s career, and can help inform the success of these decisions and what value they might perhaps offer as a meaningful message or merely a hunk of art. As more artists continue to blur even more lines, and as the K. Dots and U2s link themselves ever closer creatively, everyone’s got to be aware of what remains amid the endless sonic churn.