Review Summary: Brendon Urie unleashed.
It will come as no surprise that Panic! At the Disco’s
Death of a Bachelor is exactly the sort of slickly produced, radio-whoring sonic cash cow that one would expect. If the fact this record is delivered by the Fueled By Ramen stalwart did not make that truism evident, the several pre-release tracks certainly did. Hence, it’s forgivable,
if not outright understandable, for someone on first acquaintance to disregard this affair as another piece of rubbish to commit to the mainstream pop trash heap.
But that would be rote and maybe in this case, a tad pretentious and premature. Is
Bachelor good? I’ll defer to those with more sophisticated aesthetic tastes than mine to decide.
It’s undoubtedly
very Brendon Urie – or at least in accordance to the brand of himself that he embeds within his music. Hence, it's probably one’s opinion of the now-solo Urie that determines whether or not
Bachelor falls favorably or infuriatingly on ears. And to put it mildly, unshackled from any bandmates, Brendon here is free to and turns out to be a total dick. This isn’t so much a disparaging insult, but an observation of the
je ne sais quoi, the moxie, Urie injects into the record, none of which is particularly gentlemanly.
A sardonic misnomer,
Death of a Bachelor is a hedonistic glorification of the extravagant exploits of a single unmarried man that could be loosely construed as bachelorhood. For example, “Emperor’s New Clothes”’ chorus gloats, “
I’m taking back the crown!/I’m all dressed up and naked/I see what’s mine and take it/Finders keepers, losers weepers!”. Even more revels are to be had on “Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time,” Urie is "
roam(ing) the city in a shopping cart” and “
a pack Camels in a smoke alarm” when not consuming the delights of “
Champaign, cocaine, gasoline...”. Not to worry, the self-professed “
king” assures us “
it’s a hell of a feeling though.”
From the opening sing-along notes on “Victorious” that invoke the playground sneer of “nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah” -- though this jeer feels more like the middle finger-flicking instead of tongue-wagging variety – to the incendiary macabre glee on “Crazy=Genius” (“
You can set yourself on fire/but you’re never going to burn”), it’s clear Brendon Urie, Esq., wants us to believe he’s “winning” Charlie Sheen style; that, he’s following in his admitted muse Frank Sinatra’s footsteps, taking his words of doing it “my way” to heart but just toward a very nihilistic end.
Moreover, given that this is a Panic! record and Urie’s penchant for theatrical and vaudeville-like pop, callbacks to Sinatra’s era of music abound. Lead single “Hallelujah” mashes gospel and Swing-esque trumpets. Closer “Impossible Year” and the eponymous “Death of a Bachelor” are Sinatra ballroom-type numbers, though the latter is mixed with hip-hop beats. The aforementioned “Crazy=Genius” boasts circus rhythms and Big Band fanfare.
It’s this dissonant hybrid of Sinatra -- or what he represented – with Urie’s motifs of debauchery wrapped in Millennial indie pop excess that makes
Bachelor difficult to dismiss out of hand. Sure, there’s glitz and glamor, but beneath it all, there might actually be talent, an alluring creativity that can’t be ignored. There is something both appealing and unnerving in Urie’s aplomb for taking the purity of Sinatra’s style and class and twisting them to suit his eccentric whims. It’s not at all unlike the album’s protagonist who lives to seduce the innocent girl to just corrupt her because he can.
I submit
Bachelor also puts us in a similar compromising position. Yes, Urie and by extension Panic! have never been this maniacal, self-indulgent and bombastic, but here in lies the charm because it's for these qualities we can’t turn away his unsavory advances. And before long, we too might find ourselves willingly succumbing to Urie’s Bacchanalian thrall, hapless captives in the clutches of his pop evil genius.
Recommended tracks:
"Hallelujah"
"Crazy=Genius"
"Golden Days"
"House of Memories"
