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.



****

Panic! at the Disco - A Fever You Can't Sweat Out (2005)

No question about it - if ever there was a band whose reach exceeds their grasp, it's Panic At The Disco. One listen to A Fever You Can't Sweat Out reveals a band that wish to be the Elvis Presley to Fall Out Boy's Chuck Berry - adopting the established template and taking it to new heights. How do they wish to do this? Well, firstly, this is unquestionably a third wave emo record (look, just be glad that embarrassing second wave is over - we're looking at you, Simple Plan), but its defining characteristics are intentionally diluted with exercises in experimentation with arrangements and genres, including classical. My word, how kitschy and quirky! Oh, but we're just getting started with this one.

The thing is, the members of Panic, while overflowing with ambition and enthusiasm for making their presence felt, have neglected two little things in putting all this together. First of all, the subject matter. A few of the songs can be summed up like this: "lol fame." Oh, they don't waste much time getting into that - after a 36 second radio tuning intro (oh jesus, that old chestnut), vocalist Brendon Urie starts right in on the assault: "Sit tight I'm gonna need you to keep time, come on just snap snap snap your fingers for me / Good good now we're making some progress, come on just tap tap tap your toes to the beat / And I believe this may call for a proper introduction / And don't you see I'm the narrator and this is just the prologue."

Ron Burgundy: "OH, I'M IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTION!!!"

You have to love that stuff. It's ridiculously snotty, and not in the punk rock sort of way, but in a 'you'll never mock us as much as we do' sort of way. And it could only have come from the 2000s, where kids think they can be something great just because they can make a bold/witty declaration of some sort, no matter how unoriginal or ridiculous. That certainly didn't start, nor will it end, with Panic.

Then there's the music itself. The songs themselves aren't bad at all, mostly due to the band's genuine enthusiasm. However they're a bit of a mess. The members of Panic are clearly confident enough that they think they've cracked the code to making a "classic album," or at least a memorable, era-defining one. But all these elements - self-aware lyrics, wordplay, subgenre exercises, toying with production, electronic interludes - don't fuse together in any coherent way, since the band have rushed into enveloping themselves in becoming stars without having learned how to focus themselves yet. The result is that this is a collection of songs, not a complete album, because it's too self-indulgent and directionless for that. No, this is fun for two reasons.

One, this is an oddly accurate snapshot of a very strange time for music, where everyone wants to be more snide than their fellow hipsters as long as the self-image remains intact (and whether or not they can see beyond it). And two, a lot of these songs are actually pretty damn catchy even on their own terms. Silly as A Fever You Can't Sweat Out is, Panic At The Disco really do love playing music and it shows. It has some excellent individual moments like "Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" (it's cool, take a breather. You good? OK), "Camisado," "Build God, Then We'll Talk" (what?), and, well, that song; you know the one. This is all a garish mess, but maybe that's why it still has a certain quaint charm to it years later, even as the scene slowly dissolves itself.



***1/2