PANIC! AT THE DISCO | LIVE REVIEW
Motorpoint Arena Cardiff, Fri 18 Nov
It takes a die-hard Panic! At The Disco fan to queue up to be slammed against the front barriers today. The weather in Cardiff is biblical to say the very least; the sun is barely able to peep through the clouds and violent hailstorms come and go. That said, makeshift camps are made up outside the Motorpoint Arena and the hundreds seem in high spirits.
I say ‘seem’ because I am not a die-hard Panic! fan, and I am more than happy to watch the excitement build up from the comfort of my own home and a handy Twitter hashtag. Arriving at the venue, the scene is reminiscent of Barry Island after a particularly warm day. Empty milkshake bottles and cans of energy drinks are strewn across David Street, finally hammering it home that we are at an all-ages show.
This becomes more apparent when confronted with the high-pitched screams of the clientele when the first roadies shuffle onto the stage. Dozens of sub-five-footers run gamely towards them, only to be disappointed and trudge back solemnly to their chaperones. The support band – Tigertown, from Sydney – are surprisingly popular. They sound like the sort of band that would pop up on Yo Gabba Gabba! to sing a song about respecting your elders rather than act as understudies to a pop-rock band on a stadium tour, but their audience participation trickery means that the kids lap it up. They are, after all, the noisiest crowd they’ve ever played to. Until the following night, at least.
A small selection of contraceptives is blown up and they bob around above the crowd just before Brendon Urie and his conveyor belt backing band enter stage right to the tones of Misirlou. A powerful bang and the condoms are blown out of the air by an elaborate explosion of streamers as they launch into Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time. The crowd go wild; cameraphones are held aloft and that’s pretty much as it goes for the next hour and a bit. The advantage of being one of the few people over 5ft 5in at an arena show is that nothing onstage is missed.
Much of the set is pulled from their most recent album Death Of A Bachelor but there are a couple plucked from their 2005 debut (Urie is still the right side of 30, amazingly) as well as a nod to 2008’s Pretty. Odd. in the form of an inspired Nine In The Afternoon. Even the unexpected (and more importantly, unnecessary) drum solo gets the crowd whipped up. There’s even something for the mums and dads as they stumble through an adequate cover of Bohemian Rhapsody.
It’s an accomplished show; fireworks, smoke machines, streamer cannons and a fair helping of other visuals help things along, and within 90 minutes we’re done. Everyone got what they came for, including the bargain basement merch providers outside who are savvy enough to know that their pockets will be filled by eager kids and parents not wanting to spend £30 on a tee indoors.
And it’s stopped raining. Result.
words BEN GALLIVAN photos NATHAN ROACH