The cavernous Showbox SoDo had turned into Seattle’s largest (and noisiest) steam room by the time Panic! At the Disco took the stage, the air filled with shrieks and teenage girlsweat. Standing in the photo pit, I began to understand why security guards wear earplugs — the band is fairly quiet from that vantage, but the screams of the crowd were deafeningly loud and completely unrelenting.
Panic is worlds away from what I was into at fourteen. I reached that age in the height of the grunge era, when an unwashed Kurt Cobain was the heartthrob du jour, and stage demeanor was a studied (or stoned) disaffection. The suits and ties and hair gel that the boys of Panic sport would have seemed at best archaic and at worst ridiculous, embarrassing and out of touch. Nowadays? I flipping love it. Their bear hug embrace of theatricality and their unabashed willingness to enjoy themselves are a joy to behold and a much better inspiration to kids (or adults) than chilly faux-cool.
Panic! At the Disco – photos by Brittney Bush Bollay
Panic! At the Disco – photos by Dagmar
