Live Review: Panic! At The Disco

Hordern Pavilion's already pumping for Tigertown, a peppy, synth-pop outfit who're doing a pretty good job keeping the room energised for the main act. Layer- and loop-heavy, singer Charlie Collins is fun and dripping star-power, from the sequins on her denim jacket and PVC pants to the way she thrashes her hair to the tunes. It's her birthday and everyone present sings her a very big Happy Birthday. The sound is lush, thanks to numerous synths, and the crowd — though likely here to see Panic! rather than Tigertown, if everyone's Panic! merch is any indication — are engaged and having a blast. Hit single Papernote and a cover of Michael Jackson's Wanna Be Startin' Something go down a treat. 

Suddenly, an American crew member arrives to tell the crowd that they can't send Panic! At The Disco on stage "while you guys are killing each other". The show hasn't even started and the sold out crowd are throwing themselves over the barricade every minute, many crying, so we're asked to take a few big steps back — as he's speaking, ironically he notices someone passed out in the crowd and we're asked to allow for the girl to get carried to the front to get herself out. Yeesh, things are getting heated up here. 

Dick Dale's Misirlou (you know, THAT surf rock sample) plays straight into the Rock Lobster-sampling track Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time, and Brendon Urie is at once faster than the speed of light, a supernova, a force of nature, a born showman in every sense of the word. He pirouettes, sashays, grins like he has a secret, thrusts his hips so smoothly you can hear audible gasps in the crowd. As a photographer as well, this scribe can add that his antics make our jobs easy. Having finessed his craft for over 10 years now, the band (though it's largely a different line-up these days) are tight as usual and having a brass section on hand for Death Of A Bachelor's numerous horn-heavy numbers was a fantastic idea. Smoke machines, confetti and streamers accompany Urie as he frolics about the stage amid his black-suited band members like a musical nymph, his huge vocal range and vibrato never faltering despite his giddy movements. It does seem to cause Urie to fiddle regularly with his in-ears, though. God, his voice is incredible. It's so effortlessly extravagant that you can't help but stop and wonder how the man is even hitting those earshatteringly high notes without cracking nearby glass windows. The crowd is frenetic, a throbbing mess, and we hope not too many punters have been pulled out of the pit needing first aid. 

Though most of the set consists of their latest record, the band play older hits like Time To Dance and Nine In The Afternoon for those of us who have grown older alongside the band. The piano is wheeled out for the latter and a cover of Bohemian Rhapsody — "we didn't write this one but goddamn I wish we did!" — and singing "mamaaaaa hooooo-oooo" with 5,500 people is close to a religious experience. The epic is sung start to finish, every word, and Urie is the perfect Mercury replacement. Big band extravaganza Crazy = Genius, Death of A Bachelor and modern-day-Sinatra-crooner Hallelujah are highlights too — because hello, the brass section is back! — but sadly Urie has long stripped off his glittery blazer and no longer looks like a fancy bandleader. 

To finish, Urie cuts the shit and explains that instead of doing the fake encore, they'd rather spend more time with us instead — very refreshing to hear as the fake encore model is getting very, very stale. This Is Gospel, I Write Sins Not Tragedies and Victorious go out with a giant bang, smoke and confetti, and we file out wondering how one man could possibly possess so much unbridled energy.