PANIC! AT THE DISCO // Threatened With A Good Time

Festival Hall’s Facebook page warned patrons that they’ve had to move people on already. That’s the day before Panic At The Disco are set to arrive in Melbourne. 24 hours later the lines for merch that stretch out the door on all sides solidifies the cult of personality that comes with the Panic name.

There’s a calm before the storm in the form of Tigertown. If anyone had lied and told us they’d reached something like #32 in Thursday’s Hottest 100, we’d believe it without a second thought. Indie pop isn’t exactly our strong suit here at Hysteria but it seems to go down well and a few hands bop near the front. They’re inoffensive and a way for the crowd to take a break from attempting to crush those who began lining up nearly 12 hours ago.

We’re not kidding about that. It turns out excitable fans have been taking the band’s name as an instruction, as one of our photographers notes girls are constantly being pulled out of the crowd, fainting, not being able to breath and vomiting. All since 7:30. That’s just the power of Brendan Urie, and as soon as he emerges, we’re all privy to exactly why. Gosh darn is he a charismatic young man and launching straight into Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time, the gigantic screams from the excitable crowd are justified. Golden streamers explode from the stage, and the singer floats in between vocal registers like it’s nothing. Each time he reaches his highest note (it’s a common occurrence), people of all ages roar in appreciation.

How Panic haven’t completely dominated the mainstream throughout their career is a mystery but maybe it’s best they stay a badly kept secret.

Every. Single. Time. He’s not just doing it as a rare spectacle; there’s a swap from low to high almost every 30 seconds. It feels like we’re at a Coldplay or a Justin Bieber performance with constant cheers, signs and overall willingness of the crowd to respond to any slight show of personality from on stage. That’s not a complaint though. He’s fucking brilliant at it, this is a hell of a good time and The Ballad of Mona Lisa sees the first of the seated crowd take to their feet. They’ve only dropped one A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out track, Time To Dance, which seems odd? Ah well, in Urie we trust and he’s gallivanting around the stage whilst the rest of the band jump and move in their respective positions. Oh and there’s a bloody saxophone, trumpet and trombone present because to hell with a backing track.

After claiming, “this is a song about how Donald Trump is in love with me. It’s okay to like boys too Donald,” Urie retrieves an LGTBQ flag from the crowd and places it on his microphone stand as the whole venue cheers during Girls/Girls/Boys. A number of flags emerge as soon as the song begins, and it’s comforting to see the entire venue in solidarity over the sentiment. But that reaction is nothing to when a grand piano is wheeled on stage and the opening chords of Nine In The Afternoon begin. Now we’re really all on the same page; half the seated crowd are up and remain that way for the rest of the set. The spot lighting and colours are matched perfectly to the performance without a second to spare. Those behind the desk really shine however, after Urie states, “this isn’t a song we wrote, but I wish we had.” The opening strains of their cover of Bohemian Rhapsody kick in and ooft, is it blasphemy to say Panic’s vocalist is the closest these kids are going to get to a real life Freddy Mercury substitute? Whatever, we’re saying it. As flags are lifted and Urie is spotlit upon the piano as he screams “Galileo” and we reach the apex of his vocal range, it’s magic.

Theatricality is at the heart of the Panic experience. It filters not only through a Urie backflip off the drum riser during Miss Jackson, but also the blood red cabaret lighting display for Emperor’s New Clothes. The band ensure both a visual and aural spectacular during their performance, each with a sly grin of ‘knowing they don’t need the tricks, but doing them anyway’. Panic deride leaving the stage for an encore, and throw us their “newest song.” Those tricksters; it’s I Write Sins Not Tragedies, the entire venue jumps and Urie performs another backflip before launching right back into the song’s final refrain. Concluding with Victorious and its pop heavy influences, more streamers burst, confetti flies and covers the outstretched arms of those on the floor. How Panic haven’t completely dominated the mainstream throughout their career is a mystery but maybe it’s best they stay a badly kept secret. We wouldn’t want anyone to threaten our good time now would we?

Catch Panic! At The Disco on their final two Australian shows with Tigertown.
Tickets available here.

Sunday January 29, Festival Hall, Melbourne VIC – Lic/AA
Tuesday January 31, Riverstage, Brisbane QLD – Lic/AA