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When Parachute debuted on BBC Radio 1, host Sian Eleri introduced HAYLEY WILLIAMS as “one of the world’s biggest and most inspirational artists” with “a generation-defining voice.” In the studio, Hayley blushed at the praise, folding her arms and coyly nodding as the track played. Seemingly in denial of her peerless reputation, she overlooks that Eleri’s words ring true: Hayley is one of the most celebrated vocalists of the 21st century. Yet watching her sheepishly bop to her own song, you might mistake her for an awkward scene kid – not a three-time Grammy winner who’s supported the biggest tour in history, and inspired generations with an inimitable career.
Hayley is now on her third solo ‘album.’ Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party only received an official tracklist over a month after she dropped 17 songs unexpectedly on a DIY, 00s-inspired website. The unorthodox rollout sent fans into a frenzy, debating tracklist order and how it changed the narrative. It felt almost regressive – reminiscent of the early days of downloading torrents: mistyped titles, jumbled iPod transfers, and tracks buried in the ‘Unknown Artist’ folder.
Yet nothing about this approach felt careless. Instead, it reignited the romance of listening to music; giving fans ownership, sparking conversations, and putting effort back into discovery. A cynic might call it clever marketing, but those who know Williams’ career will see a reflection of her lifelong identity as a fan. To be a great artist is to invite varied perceptions, draw influence widely, and use music as a tool for connection. It’s why PARAMORE, and Hayley herself, have fans that have stuck with them through what has been an eventful, somewhat whiplash-inducing career.
Hayley’s solo discography has unfolded like a game of lyrical Cluedo – fans constantly searching for meaning, origin, and hidden references. If Petals For Amor was a woven tapestry, and Flowers For Vases / Descansos a jigsaw puzzle, then Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party is a handmade quilt stitched loosely, but lovingly, with mementos gathered over time.
Listening to this record feels like reading postcards from a family member written years before you were born. The voice is familiar, the phrasing intimate, yet the unanswered questions pull you deeper. As fans, it’s tempting to feel entitled to an artist’s personal truths, but Hayley keeps the balance beautifully. One moment she delivers sharp, direct lines like “friends to lovers trope came true” on Love Me Different, the next she slips into ambiguity, with “there’d be so much left to lose” on I Won’t Quit On You. It’s a lyrical tennis match between candour and mystery, enough to script a classic “will they, won’t they” romance flick.
Sonically, the album leans into a lo-fi 90s palette, echoing the textures of FIONA APPLE or MAZZY STAR. It carries the rawness of a live session more than a polished studio record. Far from diminishing its impact, this intimacy enhances it, wrapping the listener in a sense of trust, as if these songs belong to a private journal, with Hayley on one side of the confessional and the listener on the other.
On this record, Hayley digs deeper than ever into her own sense of self while also turning her gaze outward. True Believer confronts religious dogma and bigotry with piercing clarity. She murmurs: “They pose in Christmas cards with guns as big as all their children. They say that Jesus is the way. But then they gave him a white face.” These words, surrounded by a piano worthy of a haunting music box, show a transformation in Hayley’s frankness. It’s a stark contrast to her earlier timidity writing PARAMORE’S Ignorance. In 2009 she told Kerrang!: “I don’t always feel good at confronting people,” later admitting to The Guardian that she “tried to mumble all the way through” when sharing it with her bandmates.
15 years on, Hayley delivers her words with compelling ownership, and perhaps even more powerfully, a comfort in uncertainty. Many lyrics pose questions to herself or to the world at large. On Glum, she wonders: “I do not know if I’ll ever know what in the living fuck I’m doing here. Does anyone know if this is normal?” From a global superstar with decades of achievement behind her, it’s an incredibly relatable dialogue.
Despite tackling big themes like mental struggle and reinvention, the album also finds room for playful, tongue-in-cheek moments. The most striking comes on Discovery Channel, where Williams weaves in THE BLOODHOUND GANG’s The Bad Touch with a wickedly sensual twist turning irony into tension.
This collection pulls from a vast palette of influences, playing like an audible exhibition of Hayley’s discography to date. Scuzzy guitars on Hard and Mirtazapine will please those nostalgic for the era of red skinny jeans and razored bangs, while tracks like Disappearing Man and Dream Girl In Shibuya showcase silky layered vocals and bright instrumentation, echoing After Laughter and expanding on the sensitivity of FLOWERS For VASES / descansos. This entwined ecosystem of elements reiterates just how masterful HAYLEY WILLIAMS is as a songwriter, and as a vocalist.
If Hayley were auditioning on a talent show, Simon Cowell would almost certainly reach for his catchphrase: “You don’t know how good you really are.” And he’d be right. The versatility and sincerity across this record confirm HAYLEY WILLIAMS as one of the greats of our time, indeed perhaps of all time…even if she still shies away from that truth.
Rating: 9/10
Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party is out now via Post Atlantic.
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The post ALBUM REVIEW: Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party – Hayley Williams appeared first on Distorted Sound Magazine.
