Pansexuality, or omnisexuality, is the sexual, romantic or emotional attraction towards people regardless of their sex or gender identity. Pansexual people may refer to themselves as gender-blind, asserting that gender and sex are not determining factors in their romantic or sexual attraction to others
Brendon Urie is 31. Yes, that Brendon Urie. The guy who only needs a smudge of eyeliner to incite mass hysteria. The guy whose first ever single — a highly complex song , featuring robust characters and full dialogue —went four times platinum (he was 17). The guy who thought he was too cool for a young Alexa Chung. The guy who became an inspiration without ever openly identifying as queer (there's a dedicated to notes of gratitude to the singer from fans). The guy who, despite being the last remaining member of cult band Panic! At the Disco, has managed to flourish the better part of 15 years in the industry. Do you feel inadequate? You probably should.
Panic! At The Disco was never supposed to be Urie's. He was just drug-dealing, fornicating, weed-smoking Mormon kid, growing up eight minutes from the Las Vegas strip (he had his first threesome at 16, an event that inspired what has since become bisexual anthem ""). When the high school junior heard that the cool kids, a rag-tag group of pubescent boys calling themselves "Panic! At The Disco" were in need of a temporary guitar player, he seized the opportunity.
Urie quickly learned these kids were for real, they wanted to make it, and they needed the multi-instrumentalist's multi-octave tenor vocals to reach the next level. Their first foray into shows were performances at the local Mormon church (mama Urie would not let them take the stage without long pants and collared-shirts). On a whim, they sent demos to a recently signed-bassist, who was in the midst of creating his own debut album with a group of talented Chicago natives under the name Fall Out Boy. Pete Wentz drove to Vegas to meet with the teens personally. And then came "" — affectionately abbreviated by Urie and fans to "Sins."
Six albums later, Urie is still larger-than-life. He is known for his phenomenal stage presence (which earned a stint on Broadway in Cyndi Lauper's Kinky Boots last year), something which, surprisingly, translates interpersonally, too. He was more jaded at 19 — a baby-faced pop punk idol with misguidedly long side-burns — in a now with Alexa Chung, than he is 11 years on. Swigging a beer, he regales with anecdotes about the early years, his perfect, James Dean-esque quiff lightly swaying as he delicately vacillates between topics ranging from the serious to the surreal. It's obvious from the onset that Urie is a premier conversationalist, and he has opinions. No publicist hovers as Urie addresses his own #MeToo moments, his sexuality, his thoughts on politics, religion, or Aziz Ansari. They don't need to — Urie knows exactly who he is, and he's not going anywhere.
"I Write Sins Not Tragedies" is a weird track. It opens with a harpsichord (not your traditional alt-rock instrument), before using crashing drums, and distorted guitar to navigate infidelity, and the fickleness of human nature. It was remarkably cynical and intellectual for a group of teens, and set the chaotic tone for all Panic!'s future output — even as each member, save Urie, eventually departed. But alt-rock was in, Greenday, My Chemical Romance and Death Cab reigned, and Panic! At The Disco had brought something new to the conversation: narrative. Even over a decade on, the Urie-led band's latest project employs the same technique, no doubt a contributing factor to it shooting straight to number one on the Billboard Hot 200 upon its debut. Despite numerous opportunities, Urie never broke away from Panic! At The Disco to create his own brand; to the singer, Panic! is unfiltered, Panic! is fanatical (as are its followers), Panic! is freedom.
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