Panic! at the Disco - Pretty. Odd. (2008)

Panic At The Disco's debut, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, was a jumble, but an admirable jumble. Putting aside the smirking, self-aware lyrical indulgence, it was obvious the band loved making music even as their kaleidoscope of sound got away from them a bit. After the release of that album, a funny thing happened in the emo scene: the bands wanted to be taken seriously. My Chemical Romance, The Killers, and even the boys who made Panic famous, Fall Out Boy, all desired to prove they were a genuine force in the annals of rock history. How did they all do this? Why, this is the 2000s, sillyfacepants! This is an era where everything old is new again whether we like it or not; where the past is gratuitously dug up and integrated into pop culture regardless of whether or not it prevents this era from forming an identity. And nowhere is that more evident than on Pretty Odd, Panic's sophomore album.

Whereas MCR chose to become a more theatrical bunch in the vein of Queen and Styx, and the Killers decided they were the second coming of John Cougar Mellencamp and Bruce Springsteen (yeah.) Panic decided, 'screw that, psychedelia is coming back because we declared it so.' And of course, who better to turn to for psychedelic pop - oh come on; if you thought I wouldn't mention them, you're an idiot - than The Beatles.

First thing's first: despite what trolls will tell you, Panic didn't rip off the Beatles. Denis Leary's No Cure For Cancer album was a ripoff. What Panic did, however, was take musical cues from the Beatles' psychedelic albums (read: back when the Fab Four were high as all shit) and make it into their own. They wish to revive the sound of taking decades worth of pop music and condensing it into a whirlwind of styles. That's just what they do on Pretty Odd, with harmonica, organs, clarinets, ukuleles and classic production techniques having a comfortable home here. The lyrics have even succumbed to the fever: instead of "lmao we're rock stars & you're whores," the band embrace poetic imagery, surreal fantasy sequences and grand love stories. It should be noted that there was no transition between this and Fever - they just took a good look at the scene & said "mm, no."

In its own way, it really is a great example of the ideals of the latter half of the 2000s. Everyone is so in love with the sounds of yesteryear that context becomes secondary. And still, while everyone else seems to want to revive the 1980s come hell or high water, Panic sound pretty odd themselves in attempting to capture the spirit of a sound from the 1960s instead. It certainly makes them stand out from the scene, since there's no real setting for this kind of thing these days, which makes the venture all the more admirable considering the band's mainstream success. Still, they've managed to become a more versatile band in working on this that can convincingly pull a few good tricks out of their asses.

But as an album, is it a mess like Fever was? Of course it is! How could it not? This is Panic At The Disco we're talking about! They're a fun band and all, but they're not the type of band that could make a Revolver, or a Pet Sounds, or even a Dark Side Of The Moon. This era is just too weird, too pretentious & too postmodern a time to ever make albums like that again. And that goes for everyone. Part of the time, the song elements seem strung together without worrying about them meaning something.

All this in mind, though, Pretty Odd is a lot of fun and filled with some incredible songs. The Sgt. Pepper riffing intro, "We're So Starving," is one of the best album intros in recent memory, and it leads into the best pop song of their entire tenure, "Nine In The Afternoon" (admittedly, that title is so something Ringo would say). The random forays into folk, early 20th century pop and (get this) ragtime are silly and fun. The Kinks-esque "Mad As Rabbits" is the sound of four kids that finally understand that there's no shame in pure pop music. "Northern Downpour" is a solid ballad, the kind of song Paul McCartney wishes he still had in him. And in general, even as over-the-top, cluttered and silly as all of this is (maybe because of it) this is still a genuinely good pop album from a talented quartet. Period.



****