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Don't panic ­­-- Pretty. Odd. exceeds expectations

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is an undisputed classic. Arguably the greatest album ever made by The Beatles -- who, by general consensus, are the greatest band the world has ever seen -- it was a milestone release in terms of studio innovation, cohesiveness and even album art. And the music? Sgt. Pepper's sounds remarkably fresh in a modern context -- every bit as brilliant and engaging as it was more than 40 years ago.

Apparently, Vegas quartet Panic at the Disco (observe the freshly removed exclamation point!) are fans of Sgt. Pepper's as well -- so much so that they've modeled their latest album, Pretty. Odd., after it to a T. They've got the same thick atmospherics, gobs of back up instrumentation from horns and strings and even the same sort of faux-live album introduction. The resemblance between the two albums is uncanny.

This is hardly a surprise, of course -- My Chemical Romance aped Queen for Welcome to the Black Parade, and The Killers borrowed the songs on Sam's Town from the Big Book of Bruce Springsteen. At this rate, it was only so long before the Fab Four became the next target for an über-popular pop-punk outfit. What sets Panic at the Disco apart, however, is that their album is actually quite good.

Repeated listens reveal the band's similarity to The Beatles is, for the most part, superficial. Panic doesn't have the ability to write pop songs the way The Beatles did, and in all likelihood, they never will. While the group borrows heavily from the psychedelic atmosphere of Sgt. Pepper's, they are still writing the same variety of unabashed pop-punk music they always have -- if only in a markedly different context.

This newfound focus on texture pays off in spades. Regardless of what the band's detractors might say, ambition suits Panic at the Disco wonderfully. Pretty. Odd. maintains the pop sensibilities of Panic's mediocre debut but reframes them in lush orchestral flourishes and ornate production techniques. The group's songwriting may have improved only marginally -- brilliant songs such as "She's a Handsome Woman" and "When the Day Met the Night" excluded -- but their songs sound much better framed with trumpets and violins than the flavor-of-the-moment synthesizers that characterized A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. If nothing else, Pretty. Odd. is worth listening to for its exorbitant production -- this album must have cost Pete Wentz's label a fortune to make.

There are problems, to be sure. Frontman Brendon Urie's emo yelp doesn't quite gel with the band's new sound -- although back-up singer Ryan Ross sounds great when he takes center stage in album highlight "Behind the Sea." Pretty. Odd. also suffers from a lack of songwriting variety toward its tail-end in spite of quirky interludes such as "I Have Friends in Holy Spaces" and "Folkin' Around;" however, the whole of Pretty. Odd. congeals into an album that is mischievous, clever and (most importantly) lots of fun.

Although Panic is far from reaching the same heights The Beatles once scaled, they have released a follow-up album good enough to match their immense popularity. Sure, music fans might be better off dusting off Sgt. Pepper's instead of purchasing Pretty. Odd., but Panic's latest far outpaces the superficial glitz of their debut ­-- and indicates that these Vegas post-teens might actually have something worthwhile to share with us. 3

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