If You Love Me, Let Me Go: The Pretty Odd Downfall of Panic! at the Disco

*Content Warning: This article contains mention of sexual assault that may be triggering or uncomfortable for some readers. If this may be triggering for you, please consider skipping this article. Your mental state is way more important than giving Brendon Urie any more attention, we promise.*

Well, it’s finally happened. Panic! at the Disco has finally been put out of its misery by its final member.

But how did things get to this point? And how did the band fall so far from stardom?

Across the band’s nearly 20 years of activity, they’ve had seven albums across various genres – and a total of six people have been official members of the band. That’s not even counting the members who joined the band solely as touring musicians!

So how did we end up with three albums of just Brendon Urie, none with the charm and intrigue that made so many stick with the band across countless genre pivots?

The answer is not entirely cut and dry, but rather lies within the band’s complex and messy history.

First, the band amassed a cult following who stayed with them, even though it was nearly impossible to predict what the next album would sound like. I was a part of this following for a long time – even now, it wouldn’t be quite fair of me to say I’m not a Panic! fan.

However, the band’s status as – to be quite honest – a band started coming into question when Brendon Urie became the sole remaining member of the band, with only touring musicians to back him up during the tours he did for the band’s “solo” albums from 2016 until the band’s disbandment – if you can even call it that – in January of this year.

Why would Urie continue making music under the Panic! name when he was not only the sole founding member, but the only real member, period?

In 2015, when Dallon Weekes and Spencer Smith officially left the band, Urie had been the band’s frontman and a media darling for years. Urie was beloved by countless fans and was, by far, the band’s most popular member.

By that logic alone, Urie’s solo work under the Panic! name should have been wildly successful. To be fair, the first album he put out without any other official bandmates (Death of a Bachelor in 2016) was by no means unsuccessful. “Hallelujah,” the album’s main single, was the band’s first Top 40 Hit since “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” in 2006.

Still, the albums following DOAB mostly signified a decline in the band’s star power. While their 2018 album Pray for the Wicked produced another Top-10 single for the band, this would be the band’s last charting single, and the album itself did not receive much love from fans.

*And no, I don’t count Brendon’s collaborative song “ME!” with Taylor Swift. We don’t talk about that song… unless you want me to! It was pretty bad!*

Hell, I went to the Pray for the Wicked tour, and I didn’t even listen to the whole album until my friend played it in the car… on the way to the concert venue. While my experience certainly doesn’t sum up all fans experiences, I believe my relationship with Panic! at the Disco closely followed the trends of the band’s following.

The band’s previous experimental genre-flipping vibe had seemingly been abandoned for a more consistend pop-oriented approach on Urie’s part, leaving many fans disappointed with the band’s last three albums.

Beyond the musical aspect, things got much more complex for Urie when the band’s bodyguard, Zack Hall, was accused of sexual assault. This allegation came amidst a massive movement in women’s rights and countless other pop punk and emo acts suffering similar allegations.

Safe to say that these allegations were not taken lightly by not only Panic’s fans, but also by the internet at large: Urie suffered a mass-scale “cancellation” for his association with Zack Hall and his lukewarm response to the issue.

Things only got worse for Urie when fans and ex-fans alike began digging deeper into Urie’s past, finding videos of him forcing himself onto then-bandmate Ryan Ross, testimonials from Ross stating he was uncomfortable with the way Urie treated him both on and offstage, and clips of Urie using racial slurs on the live-streaming app Periscope.

Not to mention the time he told the crowd he wanted to “rape” them at a live show? Gross. Just gross.

At the end of the day, what left many fans with such a bad taste in their mouth was the way that Urie clung to the band’s name when the previous members no longer wanted collaborate with him anymore, whether that’s because of personal reasons, creative differences, or just not being able to stand Urie anymore.

Once the rose-colored glasses came off and the fans no longer worshiped Urie, instead seeing a man plagued with modern rock-star syndrome, the shine wore off quickly.

When Urie finally announced that Panic! at the Disco would be no more, it felt like he had finally euthanized a family pet that had been suffering for the last few years.

Quite frankly, there was no real reason for Brendon to continue to make much under the Panic! name when he could have easily gone solo. Whether it was to keep the valuable branding from the band’s established history, or solely Urie’s own ego, Panic! had been dead to many fans for years before it was formally dissolved.

If topics like this interest you, stay tuned! I have a deep dive planned on modern rock-star syndrome and the culture of sexual assault being carried out by members of the emo and pop punk scene. It’s bound to be an interesting read.

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