cw: brief mentions of assault

Modern artistic society has contorted the unassuming adverb “objectively” into its very own Frankenstein’s monster, with no way of reversing the cataclysmic effect this word may have on an artist’s work. Deconstructing objectivity–assuming that it is real–has grown increasingly difficult as the definition of keywords such as objectively and subjectively have been muddied through mindless discourse. To oversimplify, the true meaning of objectively is to pass judgement in a way that is not influenced by personal feelings or opinion. For example, a piece of comedy may be objectively good should it meet preconceived conceptions of comedy: containing a set up and punchline. However, if despite the joke being objectively told correctly, one does not find it funny, then it may be subjectively bad. As online spaces have enabled an increasing number of  less-than-qualified people to take on the roles of professional critics, the impartialness of objectivity is fading into obscurity. Now, it seems for one to say a piece of art, no matter the medium, is objectively good, is to absolve it of criticism by invalidating any opinion-based critiques as merely subjective, which is to dismiss it as without substance. This phenomenon is often seen in cult fanbases, where young and passionate followers of an artistic creator diminish the opinions of anyone naysaying their idol by claiming opposing judgements as objectively wrong. In a similar vein, the misuse of objectivity is implemented when jumping to a fierce defence of a problematic creator. Sure, they may have committed heinous acts and been reprimanded in the public eye, but their art is objectively good, and therefore they should not be held too far accountable, as this would prevent them from continuing to create their objectively good art. It is from sentiments such as these that the also misappropriated phrase ‘support the art; not the artist’ stems from. Such statements which become exponentially harmful as they elevate abusers and bigots in artistic circles to myth status, on a pedestal which they cannot be reeled in from. 

All of this being said, there is no clearer example of an artist who has fallen victim to the misuse of objective criticism than that of Brendon Urie.  

For the uninitiated, Brendon Urie is the frontman of the world renowned ex-emo band, Panic! At the Disco. He is the sole surviving member of an initially four-person pop-punk musical group, consisting of Ryan Ross, Spencer Smith, and Brent Wilson. The band, since its heyday in the early to late 2000s and early 2010s, was notorious for quickly losing band members and recruiting new ones. A string of firings and replacements over the course of four albums which left Urie as the only remaining member of the original group by 2016 when he released his first solo album: Death of a Bachelor solidified P!ATD is nothing short of a cultural phenomenon. The band found a home in Tumblr’s ‘Emo Quartet’– a name given to the four most popular bands within Tumblr’s alt-rock and emo scene–Panic! At the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots, and My Chemical Romance. During this time, P!ATD experimented with all kinds of different musical stylings throughout their run as a group, successfully reeling in millions of fans across the globe. The band was known for its impressive lyricism, using poetic prose and vivid storytelling to add flare to their  equally stunning melodies. Pretty. Odd., P!ATD’s second album, remains to this day my favourite album of all time, due to its mind bogglingly beautiful writing and unique artistry. P!ATD also grew in popularity in the late 2000s social media scene, where a loyal fanbase of primarily teenage girls began to obsess over the band– past  being fans of the music alone, but instead of the members themselves as well–especially Brendon Urie. 

Urie was, and still is, a musical tycoon. He excels in every aspect of what it means to be a world famous musician. From the precise productions, persuasive marketing, and to the music itself  Urie knows exactly how he wants to present himself towards his fanbase. P!ATD is a band that knows how to appeal to its target audience, largely the reason why despite the majority of Brendon’s many controversies having been sprawled out for the world to see, tens of thousands still continuously flock to his unneeded defence. Urie is a prime example of what happens when an artist is afflicted with Perfect White Man Syndrome–a cultural phenomenon in which privileged white men are undeservingly praised for doing nothing other than the bare minimum in regards to activism and inclusivity.  Urie weaponized his fluid sexuality; he allowed young LGBT+ fans to speculate and attach themselves to his speculated identity and let these children feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable in his presence while never confirming or denying any theories. The subject of queerbaiting within the music industry is one of the most difficult wrongdoings to discern. Where should the line be drawn between intentional, malicious queerbaiting, and simply being oneself in the public eye without the obligation of sharing ones gender and sexual identity? For Urie, the answer to such does not matter; the line for him has never existed. He is an artist known for kissing his male bandmates onstage and waving pride flags proudly above his head, while also writing problematic lyrics in which he invalidates bisexuality and sexualizes lesbianism. It is the Yin and Yang to Urie’s ‘acceptance’ of the LGBT+ community which was the first straw for many fans, myself included, which encouraged a step back and reconsideration of Panic! At the Disco and their politics. I remember being a twelve or thirteen when I first found discomfort with the reasoning behind Girls/Girls/Boys, a song which I’d previously wholeheartedly believed to be a resounding and fulfilling pride anthem.  The song’s creation had been intended to celebrate the coming out of the wife of one member of P!ATD, which Brendon had twisted into a piece about his first threesome.  The cracks in Urie’s facade were beginning to come to light, even before the shocking resurfacing of transphobic comments made by Brendon which surfaced on the internet. I am not a trans person myself, and therefore will not be sharing the grave comments made or offering insight into the validity of Urie’s apology. However, many cisgender fans of Urie did not take a similar approach; many going as far as to attack any trans P!ATD fan who reprimanded Urie online. For many such young admirers, this was the first time they had witnessed such a public controversy for an idol, which might be why so many uneducated children felt the incorrect need to defend Urie–to them, he was more than their favourite musician. Urie had become a reflection of what they believed to be their own moral code; for Brendon to do wrong was for them to have done wrong.  As often happens with parasocial relationships, young fans attributed Urie’s successes, as well as failures, as their own. To target and harass those who had broken free of Urie’s spell was a way to protect their own values, and shield themselves from having to confront the fact that the man, who their parasocial relationship with had grown so fierce, was not the altruistic saint they’d believed him to be. Confrontation with the truth would only become more difficult to avoid as time went on, as the awful way Urie treated the LGBT+ community was soon not the only issue with the musician earning its own spotlight. 

Over the course of the past decade, the indie music scene has been met with travesty after travesty, as an increasing number of musicians fall from fame due to allegations of sexual assault and harassment–particularily the harassment and grooming of young fans by older male band members. In the late 2010s and in early 2020, a cascade of these allegations fell heavily on Urie. Dozens of fans (having been minors at the times of their assaults and inappropriate interactions) and non-fans (who had been unlucky enough to find themselves in party scenes with the musician) alike came forward with both tragic and shocking stories.  However, calls for backlash and Urie’s accountability  was frighteningly low. Headlines remained hush-hush, and attempts to bring Urie to justice were feeble and lame. Such resulted in complete lack of  punishment; not even the slightest sign of a possible deplatforming. Instead, Urie’s victims were met with the same catastrophically insensitive response as many celebrity victims face; they were claimed to have lied, fabricated, or over exaggerated the assault for attention. Doubt was cast upon their integrities due to general disbelief that perfect Brendon Urie would have done something so seemingly out of character. It is apparent that this reaction stems not from Urie’s character specifically, but rather the franticness of music listeners in the indie rock scene’s desperate attempts to cling to any supposedly ‘good’ or ‘controversy free’ male musicians as more and more idols are outed as predators and abusers. Urie in particular is the perfect candidate for such star treatment, having spent his career cultivating an audience known for its inviting and safe aura. The guards of fans are relaxed, allowing them to be easily taken advantage of by an unassuming and “wholesome” person. 

Urie, an inherently selfish man, lives with no regard for the personal autonomy of others. He keeps to himself all that he feels entitled to, including the name of a band which is no longer his to perform underneath. The band, Panic! At the Disco, no longer exists. Instead, it is a stage name for Urie, and a way for him to further tarnish the legacy of a once all-powerful musical group. Urie is too cowardly and too close minded to even consider letting go of the name Panic! At the Disco, as he knows that he is nothing without this title plastered over his vanity project. He has stolen Panic! At the Disco from the world, by taking the shameful burden of his actions not onto himself, but rather the name of the band.  Urie is plainly aware that as long as he keeps his talons dug into Panic! At the Disco, the average clueless listener will not realise he is the only original band member left standing. Urie will be remembered for the work of his bandmates, of whom he has made explicit efforts to ignore and not delegate proper credit. I cannot stress enough the villainy of Urie insisting on performing underneath the protective overcast of Panic! At the Disco. This would be like if Harry Styles, upon going solo, continued to go by One Direction. An act rooted in narcissism, one look at the history of Panic! At the Disco quickly becomes not the success story of Brendon Urie, but rather the tragedy of Ryan Ross. 

Ross was the former lead guitarist and primary songwriter for P!ATD, who brought to the band a livelihood which was never again matched post his departure. He who gave us the lyricism which Panic! At the Disco was so revered for, along with the musicality and unique homemade sound that was never able to be recreated by Urie alone. In holding the loaded name Panic! At the Disco hostage, Urie has functionally erased all impact Ross may have had as an individual on the band, as now his former band is irrevocably tied to Urie, along with all of Ross’ mind blowing work. I plead to you, turn your attention to Ross’ solo music: the short lived passion project of Ryan Ross and former P!ATD bassist Jon Walker, The Young Veins, as well as Ross’ solo album, Last House On the Block. I beg that more former Panic! At the Disco listeners such as myself pay more mind to the musical genius we watched be robbed before our eyes. Unlike Urie, Ross had the potential to stand alone without cowering behind the dead skin of an old band name. He lacked only Urie’s showmanship, which would end up costing him more than we could ever imagine. Brendon Urie is a thief, and one without shame. The further he drags Panic! At the Disco’s name down a gravelly, dirty trail of mediocre songs designed to appeal to the audience he has somehow managed to manipulate into retaining, the more he buries the legacy of all the talented artists who once worked alongside him. If ever I was given the chance to tell Urie one thing, it would be to get his head out of his ass, and leave the fucking name behind. 

Fans of Brendon Urie are nearly as stubborn as he, unwilling to relinquish their sick worship of a man who has repeatedly hurt the communities of individuals who have made up the majority of his audience for decades. And for what? For objectively good music? How fierce is your loyalty to subpar art that you are willing to trample over the lived traumas of the dozens assaulted, and thousands belittled by bigotry? To excuse Brendon Urie is to let  the work of fantastic artists such as Ryan Ross die. To excuse Brendon Urie is to let all the young fans who lived life-altering assaults at his hands suffer in silence, and to thrust a man who has not appropriately acknowledged his transphobia and bigotry into supposedly safe LGBT+ spaces.  With Brendon Urie’s next album on the horizon, take a second look at the actual quality of the music. Not how objectively melodical it’s tricking you into thinking it sounds, not how objectively deep the lyrics may be, but rather how these tunes are now a soulless shell of what they once were. Question who you are supporting when you press play. A band which was once wildly important to me the way it still is to millions around the globe can now only be synonymous with disaster, and betrayal. If there is any part of Brendon Urie which has not been blackened by his selfishness, any part which holds even the slightest morsel of remorse for fans who have continued to support him through thick and thin, or any part which recognizes the hundreds of thousands who he has harmed, I plea to it: Please, let Panic! At the Disco die.