Pretty. Good.

So, needless to say, Panic's new album didn't live up to the hype. Anyone who's surprised by that can raise their hands now, and probably be euthanized. People without a grasp on the obvious shouldn't be allowed to breed. Okay, that may be a little harsh, but back to Panic.

The first thing to notice when you plug the album into your computer, is that the exclamation point didn't go far. In fact, according to Itunes, it should still be there. But that's just me being nit-picky, lets get back to some substantive issues.

Okay, so this is not a bad album by any means. In fact, I can think of at least 4 albums I bought in the last year that were significantly worse, and I mean significantly (I'm looking at you No Address...). Its fun to listen to, quirky, and let's fact the facts, both pretty and odd. It is not, as the hype would have you believe, the second coming of Christ. In fact, it isn't even the second coming of John Lennon. But if you're a fan of Lennon, you might appreciate the old school 60s inspired vibe. Now's the time for the requisite Beatles reference, there's no avoiding it. But, come on, listen to the song "Behind the Sea" and tell me you don't get "Octopus's Garden" flashbacks. But back to the matters at hand.

So, the album itself is a quirky mix and match of musical styles and instruments. Its like trail mix for the ears. The first time you see it you think "dried bananas and M&M's... I'm not so sure about this..." but it turns out it kind of works. That's not to say you don't always eat the M&M's out first, but you appreciate the combination all the same. Basically, the reason Pretty. Odd. makes sense, is that it doesn't really make a lot of sense. You get whipped around in such a variety of musical directions so fast, you stop expecting it to work, at which point it actually starts working. You just sort of have to go with it. Its a bit like watching one of those kind of bad fantasy movies you watched when you were a kid. You just have to assume the reason that the big vaguely scary but actually really nice creature can talk to rocks is that... well, rocks listen, I guess. By that same token, you just have to assume that the reason a song doesn't make any sense in any normal logic means that it doesn't need normal logic. Okay, well, I'll admit that didn't make any sense either, but the point is, lyrically, the album is a mishmash of nonsensical ramblings and heavy-handed metaphors, so as long as you assume it shouldn't make any sense, it makes perfect sense.

My one real, tangible issue with it (other than the generally mediocre-ness of it all) is Ryan Ross. Now, Ryan is a fantastic guitarist, a brilliant lyricist, and an all-around fascinating guy (yes, by fascinating, I mean weird). He is not, however, in possession of an amazing voice. Don't get me wrong, he sounds fine, but in contrast to Brendon's attractive and rather distinctive trill, Ryan falls a bit flat. If it had just been Ryan from the beginning, I could deal with the way he sounds, but as it stands, I would rather listen to Brendon. Sorry Ryan, I know everybody wants to be able to sing lead, but just stick to what you're good at.

Now I'm putting out the lantern, find you're own way back home.