This post was updated Feb. 12 at 10:13 p.m.

After all this time, Paramore is finally back for more.

After a 5 1/2 year hiatus, the punk rock band – composed of singer Hayley Williams, guitarist Zac Farro and drummer Taylor York – has taken its incredibly perceptive lyricism, classic Y2K feel and pop punk tradition on a brand-new, highly explorative and deeply emotional venture. The trio recognizes its standing atop a culmination of widespread hyperactive media usage, the lingering effects of an isolating pandemic and years of sociopolitical turmoil – and their sixth studio album, “This Is Why,” comes smashing into the implications of it all.

The whirling background noise of the album’s lead single and titular track, “This Is Why,” makes for quite the incandescent beginning. Its alt-rock guitar and drum backings, topped with almost unfastened vocals by Williams, plunge into the all-too-common paranoia, if not full-blown agoraphobia, that has surfaced in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. The track sets an extraordinarily honest, clairvoyant tone for the album, as Williams explains that “One step beyond your door / It might as well have been a free fall” and “This is why I don’t leave the house.”

Following this trajectory, “The News” opens in an auditory pandemonium that feels like relentlessly whipping one’s hair back and forth. The track spirals into a rant about modern America’s 24-hour news cycle. Williams’ vocals simmer with resentment at the mania-inducing nature of unlimited access to what she sings as the “exploitative,” “performative” and “deplorable” nature of American news. This track may not be the catchiest or most euphonious, but its urgency and perspective come screaming through.

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Succeeding this blood-boiling concoction are cathartic tracks such as “Running Out Of Time” and “C’est Comme Ça,” which both delve into the psychological detriment that comes with the inevitable effects of growing older. In “Running Out Of Time,” Williams tops addicting guitar loops with a plethora of tasks she did not complete, for which she blames “running out of time.” The trio imparts a frank critique of human nature that they do not absolve themselves from with lyrics like, “Intentions only get you so far (It was on my list, I swear, I meant to get to it) / A harsh reality to discover.”

On a similar note, the band laments about the certitudes and challenges of human evolution in “C’est Comme Ça,” which translates to “it’s like that,” in reference to the inevitable nature of these happenings. The infatuating refrain, “C’est comme ça, na-na, na-na, na-na-na,” feels as if Paramore wanted the inescapable nature of time to taunt their listeners.

Displaying the breadth of their insight and exceptional lyrical ability, the band then flips back to a reflection of their own character and leverages it to expound upon universal truths of humankind in “You First.” The trio divulges stunningly honest remarks about the inherent nature of all people, claiming that “Everyone is a bad guy” and “Karma’s gonna come for us all” atop an ironically upbeat pop-rock backing. They acknowledge a devil figure sitting on their shoulder and can’t help but ask the question of who invited him.

Then, with a mind-numbingly addictive trill, “Figure 8” explores abusive, unhealthy situations and the resulting choices of the human psyche. The track is emotionally powerful to begin, but its ingeniously insinuative and almost playful lyricism makes it gripping. It examines the parasitic experience of toxic partnerships through metaphors, descriptions of the victim’s fragile mind, and how it all leads to spinning in an endless figure eight.

“Liar,” “Crave” and “Thick Skull” brace listeners for the album’s end by slowing down the tempo while following through with an accumulation of brilliantly emotional ruminations regarding life and humanity. The guitar backings see a rhythmic 180 and turn to a soft auditory sensation in all three, taking on a balladesque feel in “Liar” and “Thick Skull” and an indie ’60s tone reminiscent of the late rock band Her’s in “Crave.”

Atop the softened backings, “Liar” confesses the concealment of emotion in the name of self-preservation, leaving audiences with a heightened inclination to lean into vulnerable feelings instead of running from them. Meanwhile, “Crave” paints a picture of nostalgia for the unknown, but, more importantly, plays with the comprehensive concept of fleeting time.

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The masterful conclusion of “Thick Skull” sees the most dulcet vocals yet, as audiences experience Williams’ breathtaking gritty vocal clarity. The song’s title serves as the perfect summation of its sagacious lyrics, such as, “Hit over the head / Epiphany / Over my head / Repeatedly.” The track’s description of continuous self-destruction in the name of hubris revolutionizes the meaning of wholly honest lyricism and leaves listeners with a newfound erudition and ability to navigate the modern state of human nature.

“This Is Why” sees a sharp but necessary progression from its more playful, frisky precedents. The cultural waywardness that has plagued American society for the past few years made room for expressive meditation, and Paramore’s deft awareness of twisted human nature allowed them to succeed in capitalizing on this chain of events. As a result, the album acts as a beautifully honest grasp of the myriad corrupt politicians, an exponential rise in the reported cases of mental illness, addiction to algorithmic media, and what it means to endure human evolution amid it all.

After all, this is why Paramore has stood the test of time.