We interrupt this cinema blog to bring you a breaking entry on a recent rock concert...
Not snow nor rain nor sleet nor slush will keep the teenagers from the rock concert. They were lined up down the block in front of Lupo’s on Saturday night, down the block and around the corner for Panic! at the Disco.
I don’t know why it surprises me to see the impressionable adolescents flock to this performance, a throng of underdressed teens beside parents with umbrellas. Truth be told, this 26-year-old concert-goer missed the first opening act, choosing to wait out the line and the weather in a bar across the street. Still, if the underage crowd wasn’t enough cause for suffering, adult chaperones and mature Panic! fans (like myself) were made to suffer through Foxy Shazam – an opener whose terrible name matches their entertainment value, something like a parody of 70s circus freaks? I’m not really sure.
I will say this: neither Foxy Shazam nor Panic! at the Disco labor under any illusions regarding their audience. They’re well aware of the high-school crowd, dispensing advice and cracking wise. For Panic! at the Disco lead singer Brendon Urie, any condescension goes largely unnoticed by the crowd. Ever since their first tour, it was inherently clear that Urie is a dynamite performer. His vocal skills are exceptional, with a deeper tone than most pop idols, perhaps enabling older fans like myself to delude ourselves into believing Panic! is more than just a steampunk pop set for tweenagers.
For a young band, Panic! has been through a lot. Their first album, titled A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out, was a big success, but the lag time between that and their wildly divergent Pretty, Odd meant that the sophomore album flew under the radar and many fans lost interest. Those loyalists who walked the Pretty, Odd path soon found that the band had drastically changed their sound. The Fever broke, and many reviewers wrote found Pretty, Odd creatively interesting, but a mildly amusing Sgt. Pepper rerun of pot songs… which it was. With such schizophrenia in the band it’s no wonder that Panic! suffered a creative identity crisis and would resurface with only two of the original four members to lead the charge. In the divorce, drummer Spencer Smith and frontman Brendon Urie got to keep the band name. And all the hit songs.
The third album from Panic! at the Disco, Vices & Virtues brings the band back to their trademark hooks and catchy melodies. The lyrics are not as bitingly clever as they once were, including such tripe as “You’re tearing me apart, like bad glue on a get-well card” (I read somewhere that one of the former band members was the one with the unexpected razor wit). The new guitar player and bassist are very talented guys – even if they don’t look quite at home. I give the new guitarists a lot of credit for supporting Urie and Smith, who dominate center stage both literally and figuratively. But I winced for them when Urie introduced the first Panic! single “Time to Dance” as “the first song we wrote together as Panic! at the Disco.” Sure, if “we” means “Spencer and I.” Sure, Brendon. Whatever you say.
Being in the minority of people who may appropriately identify as an adult, I found myself empathizing with the chaperones at the show, wincing again when Urie proclaims that one of the ‘rules’ of Panic! at the Disco is to have as much casual sex as possible. I’m no prude, but I’m glad I’m not sharing this moment with a parent over my shoulder. And surely Urie is as aware of the chaperones present as they are of him; or maybe I’m just old now, and unimpressed by a handsome young rock star unexpectedly crooning “Let’s Get It On” in hopes of assuring the Providence crowd that he intents to “fuck you in my sleep.” Perhaps Urie’s cavalier exhibitionism is exactly the almost-offensive pitch teenagers are looking for, but I’m fairly certain that I would have been equally unimpressed at their age. Urie’s stage persona is an odd combination of older brother and sexed-up rock star, vaguely immature for someone who is actually an immensely skilled musician and vocalist. His impressions of the Foxy Shazam frontman were highly amusing, and he even adopted the body language of Neon Trees vocalist Tyler Glenn for their cover of “Animal.” It feels largely like Urie’s show, except for his affection for Smith; fair, considering their shared history.
Even if it was all about Urie, it’s captivating and occasionally hypnotic – Urie’s hair is so amazing, he might have pulled a Dorian Gray. In any case, the Vices & Virtues show is truly a long way from the over-produced Nothing Rhymes with Circus tour. I skipped the Pretty, Odd tour, so I can’t say what that one looked like, but it seems that having once gone over the top Goldilocks mellowed out and then finally found the just right combination of funky set pieces, evocative wardrobe, and dynamic performance. Once you get past the hormonal, melodramatic crowd, there’s an interesting concert happening, definitely worth your while.
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