Review Summary: A little self-awareness goes a long way.
Before we even sink our teeth into the meat of
Viva Las Vengeance, just check out the video for its lead single, which also happens to be the title track. The television broadcast at the beginning says it all:
”Our next guest is one of today’s top acts. Here tonight, they’re going to perform the titular song of their incredible new album. Please welcome: Panic! At the Disco.”
If that doesn’t speak to Brendon Urie’s growing ego as a solo performer, I don’t know what will. I imagine his decision to keep the Panic! moniker was a monetary one, but one thing is certain: this is now Urie’s universe and we’re all living in it. All of the faux Queen-isms, the strained vocals, the fake theatrics… the more disingenuous and unlikable the music gets, the more self-indulgent our pop rock maverick seems to become – and vice versa. But it’s not like this is a new development by any means; 2011’s
Vices and Virtues was the first Panic! album without original lead songwriter Ryan Ross, and it already paved the road to where we’re at now. Juggling a ton of genres without knowing how to connect them together? Check. Retro 70s pastiches that aren’t particularly clever or charming? Check. Arena-sized choruses that try to mask the shallowness of the songwriting? Big check. And while
Viva Las Vengeance seems to be an attempt to recapture some of the punchy rock elements that were missing on 2018’s ubiquitous pop smash
Pray for the Wicked, the results are less than stellar. In fact, this offering is about as abysmal as Panic! has ever gotten, solo or otherwise.
Where to begin? Well, I suppose the aforementioned title track is a good place to start. While not a repulsive piece or work, it strikes as a pretty paltry thesis statement for
Viva Las Vengeance as a whole. Dull pop rock arrangements are met with the most flaccid production values I’ve heard all year; there’s absolutely no impact to the guitars, and Urie’s pseudo-operatic vocals do nothing to liven the music itself in any way. All the little embellishments and ornaments in the world won’t do any good if the foundation of the song is already wasted, and this is a problem that runs much, much deeper than just the opener. “Star Spangled Banner”, for instance, tries to meld anthemic stomping choruses with swing-like verses, and it
just doesn’t work. It might have seemed like a fun and quirky idea to mix and match these two different tempos and vibes, but what sounds interesting on paper doesn’t always work in execution; what we get instead is a bipolar mess that doesn’t know what it wants to be. Meanwhile, the Queen worship is in full effect with the following track “God Killed Rock and Roll”, a theatrical rock tune that comes off as a C-rate pisstake from the rock legends’ 80s period (a.k.a. their worst era). Once again, the shifts in tempo and style make absolutely no sense here; there’s no creative glue holding each disparate segment together, and Urie’s overuse of vocal layering just makes everything worse.
Of course, the material would at least be semi-tolerable if the songs weren’t all blatant ripoffs of other artists’ material; while Queen are the most obvious and prominent victim here, they certainly aren’t the only one. “Don’t Let the Light Go Out” is basically what would happen if Maroon 5’s Adam Levine rewrote “She Will Be Loved” and robbed it of all its subtlety and sweetness, all while singing way out of his range in the process; then there’s “Super Soaker”, which seems poised to reconcile 70s glam rock camp with horribly dated 00s garage rock revival leftovers. But maybe it’s a good thing that Urie decided to incorporate his influences so blatantly, because any original ideas he has on
Viva Las Vengeance are just
heinously bad. Case in point: “Something About Maggie”. What the fuck even happened here? That’s a sincere question, because everything about this tune is simply baffling. Urie is at his most obnoxious vocally, as he constantly strains his cords to hit notes that clearly weren’t intended for his range, all while an insufferably happy-go-lucky swing beat constantly lumbers the music along. And that’s not even covering the ridiculous lyrics, featuring such gems as “mamas and papas shitting bricks” and “give your boy a little leeway; no one dances to his playlist”. But while we’re on the topic of vocals, I suppose we should finish opening that chestnut now: Urie’s singing on this is awful. He is constantly overextending his vocals past his natural range, leading to performances that come off as strained or forced; meanwhile, his falsetto-laden harmonies emulate Queen in all of the
wrong ways. Instead of playing into their (seeming) campiness and bombast, Urie has a self-seriousness about him that robs his vocals of any charm or fun. Whichever vocal method he attempts on
Viva Las Vengeance, the execution outstrips his ambitions or intent.
Normally I’d say that last part could also serve as a summary of the record as a whole: “execution outstripping ambitions or intent”. But on a basic musical level, that’s not really true here; the record’s foundations are just as tainted as what Urie decided to build upon them. When
Viva Las Vengeance isn’t being completely derivative, it’s being obnoxious. When it’s not being obnoxious, it’s being boring. When it’s not being boring, it’s being overly pompous. When it’s not being overly pompous, it’s usually still being derivative. At any given time while you’re listening to the record, you’ll be feeling at least two or three of those descriptors, and oftentimes all four at once.
Viva Las Vengeance is an absolute failure on a musical, lyrical, and vocal level; whatever amount of time Urie spent on this project during the pandemic, he should have spent it going back to the drawing board and rethinking the majority of his songwriting choices. But I suppose his hubris wouldn’t let him do that, right? Oh well. Maybe he’ll come back down to earth and make a good record again once he’s done basking in the smell of his own shit.
