Review Summary: So close I can taste it.
After hearing the first few singles from Panic's fifth album, (Wow, five. I feel so old.) I was on the fence. "Hallelujah," "Victorious," and "Death of a Bachelor" made me feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. The videos made me sad, especially the title track, as it consisted of Mr. Urie playing Sinatra in a smokey night club, twirling around on stage and the dance floor, the house empty, which made me think Brendon rented the place out just to amuse himself, and that was my frame of mind going into this album, the last member of a band living in in denial that nobody cares about him anymore, trying to glean any fame he can before the janitors tell him to leave so they can clean up for a real act.
But "Death of a Bachelor" actually made me excited to see what the future has in store for Panic! at the Disco.
I'm not saying this album is perfect, about half of it sucks. BUT, the other half of the songs are some of the Panic's best songs, in my opinion. I’m a big fan of genre blending, like Twenty One Pilots’ first album. (“Blurryface” was just okay.) And this time around, Panic decided to experiment with more the elegant pop of Frank Sinatra and the crappy hip-hop beats and sampling from Fall Out Boy’s “American Beauty/American Psycho,” what a combination! Sometimes it works to great effect, and at other times it’s jarring, awkward, forced, and really really stupid.
It’s a good thing My Chemical Romance is broken up so Jake Sinclair can’t ruin them too.
The record starts with “Victorious.” Let’s take this song apart, as it epitomizes every misstep this album takes. This song should have been immediately thrown into the musical garbage bin. Littered with same-word-rhyming, ridiculous and disjointed, but to Brendon’s credit, his lyric-writing has never been the best, at most serviceable and occasionally memorable/smart lyrics. But not on this song, where we get such winning lines as “Fifty words for murder and I’m every one of them,” in the second verse, and the entire first verse should not have been written into existence. None of the lyrics have anything to with being victorious. If someone was saying this crap, I would’ve thought he was a loser, not someone who gets Gatorade, champagne, and hookers poured on hiim. The music is a cacophony of woah-ohs, fake claps, screechy vocal samples, a can of pop opening, no really, you can hear it at the end of the verses. The only thing good about this song is Brendon’s vocal performance, which is consistently fantastic and the real musical standout of the album. And the guitar line is pretty good too.
The same problems plague tracks 9, 10, and 11 “The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty,” “House of Memories,” and “Impossible Year.” The lyrics on the former again don’t tell any coherent story, more just a collection of unconnected lines about sex? I think? Probably. Most of the lyrical content of this album is essentially Katy Perry’s “T.G.I.F” if it were stretched out to half an hour and made it sound actually fun. The real reason “House of Memories” fails is because it sounds so insincere. Brendon wants his lady love to remember the relationship they built of sex because what? it was really kinky? The song itself is so. Incredibly. Boring. The line “Take my picture now / Shake it til you see it” is good on a couple levels because it reminds me of “Hey Ya” and is a pretty good visual (of booty-shaking). “Impossible Year” takes the silver medal of awfulness only because it fails to live up to its potential. For Panic, the album closer has usually been one of if not the best song on the record, and this song is a vapid piano ballad about tears and losing friends and love and saying “impossible year” seven times like it means something, which it doesn’t. Not to this song anyways. The music saves the song though, it is heavenly. The horns are mournful and pull your ear nicely, and Brendon’s performance is breath-taking. If only he had been singing something meaningful.
Luckily, the other six songs on the album rock, roll, swing, and grind along at breakneck pace. It’s hard to say which is best, but it’d probably be a tie between “Golden Days,” “Don’t Threaten Me with a Good TIme” and “LA Devotee.” “Golden Days” should’ve been the closer. It might be Panic’s best song, honestly. It’s passionate, makes some nice allusions stars of the past and is so sublimely catchy. Tracks 2-8 all have wonderful wonderful choruses, they all fuse the worlds of emo, big band, and dance wonderfully. Palm-muted guitars lead to explosive power chords, jazz drums grooves and horn blasts back up Brendon’ soaring vocals and he sounds like he’s having fun, and I couldn’t help smiling the whole time through these songs. They really are great songs and deserve a listen. Just. Mmm. Did I mention the “Rock Lobster” sample OR the key change in “LA Devotee?” There’s not enough key changes in pop music these days, I tell you.
I wish I could rate this album on the good songs without having to take into account the crap that bookends it. But sadly, “Death of a Bachelor” ends up being average. It still scares me how much Panic follows after FOB. AB/AP has little replay value, sadly, so does “Death of a Bachelor.” The record, while fun, is a bit too forgettable. As soon as I finished my second listen, I felt like there was nothing left to explore on the record. This is not a Say Anything record. Samples? Check. Dude, "Rock Lobster." Dumb rap beats? Yup. Wasted potential? Definitely. I liked this album, and love part of it, both this and “AB/AP” but it pains me that they could’ve been so much better. This is an exciting time in Panic’s career, and I can’t wait to see what Brendon does next.
Oh, and “Hallelujah” is fine.
