Hayley Williams @ O2 Academy, Glasgow, 26 Jun

Before Paramore bandleader Hayley Williams continues to celebrate her most emotionally transparent work to date, Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party, New York duo Water From Your Eyes warm up the room. Nate Amos's guitar work is a world away from his This Is Lorelei project, while Rachel Brown steers pulsing disco rhythms into wiry dance-punk. Think The Itch with Jonny Greenwood guitars, as the band bust shapes in the limited room left in front of our headliner’s heavily draped stage.

Hayley Williams' entry is marked by supernatural glitches from filament bulbs nestled into a stage of sheet-draped instruments and lighting rigs, like the abandoned wing of a crumbling mansion. Static triggers deep cuts from across her career: Christian recordings to EDM crossover hits and guest appearances. A voiceover sounds: "Ask your doctor about Ego Death, designed to deconstruct expired systems; sexist, racist and white supremacist notions. Waking up from a nightmare and bringing back the feeling of being an actual human being and feeling joy again..."

The infomercial fades out as the familiar lead lines of Paramore's touring rhythm guitarist Brian Robert Jones kick in for antidepressant ode Mirtazapine. It's a thrill to see Williams sporting an Alexander McQueen-esque tartan skirt and cherry-red Gibson offset (and later stepping behind the synth, drum pads and piano). Indeed, her returning to playing instruments is something she'll later enthuse about herself. Zissou is plunged into cerulean blue with swimming-pool reflections across the billowing backdrop, as Williams sculpts her own vocal effects by tapping rhythmically at her throat to startling effect.

It's quickly evident that Williams could (and arguably should) be playing a bigger venue. Fans embrace the bachelorette theme in white lace gowns and rhinestone tiaras, and the volume of the screams as the lights dim could use an open air stadium. But then there's something to be said for the wave of artists recently opting for a string of smaller shows, particularly when you're baring your soul rather than your marathon man legs for a pop dance.

Image: Hayley Williams at O2 Academy, Glasgow, 26 Jun by Serena Milesi

Kill Me appears to take aim at the vice-like grip of a 20-year contract with Atlantic Records as she reasons, 'Find another soldier!', a fitting analogy for the leader of a rallying cry of women here tonight. She dashes to the front to blow kisses to the crowd which welcomes a hearty rendition of No Scotland, No Party, complete with Jones echoing the Seven Nation Army melody on guitar. Foot stomps begin as Williams smiles: "This is everything. We should've paid for a ticket with you. Thanks for showing up in real life... it's time to cry now."

Blood Bros lights up the room with softened phone torches and she’s onto the keys for the album title track which she dedicates to Nashville, drawling, 'I'm the biggest star in this racist country-singing bar'. True Believer paints pictures of ghosts in city shadows and religious hypocrisy as the crowd join her to blast out, 'They say that Jesus is the way / But then they gave him a white face / So they don’t have to pray to someone they deem lesser than them'.

"Would you care to do an exercise with me?" she asks the crowd. "I want you to make space in here for anything you want to draw into your life, heart and world. On the count of three, we'll take a big breath in together, that’s important, and then let it out. I want you to sigh. I know it’s cheesy," she laughs. "But what the fuck else do we have?"

Good Ol' Days has the whole room harmonising with 'secret love'. Ironically, the singalong proves Williams is far more than a paramour. Her solo work leaves nowhere to hide, exposing a songwriter whose emotional range only broadens outside Paramore. At the end of our encore, standout single, Parachute arrives without the guest appearances that featured elsewhere on the tour, but the communal rant of its bridge proves cameo enough.

Because, as Williams points out, sharing this moment only confirms the record’s mantra: death to ego, long live emo. "When I’m home I go to shows like this. It’s such a lifeline. It’s the thing that keeps me believing in anything at all. We might never be in a room together again and it is that deep," she beams. "But we’re here right now."