Each month, one lucky rock band phones Blender HQ for seven days straight, just to, you know, share. Now on the line: emo pinups Panic at the Disco.
Day 1: January 7, 1:19 p.m.
Guitarist Ryan Ross rings us from Las Vegas, where last night the band (finally) finished recording its soon-to-be-released second album.
“Man, it’s nice to be done. We had a pretty relaxed last day: just overdubs and a few vocals. We’ve been recording at the Palms hotel, and when we finished they brought up this big dinner from the steak house—filet mignon, macaroni and cheese, shrimp as big as your face. It was definitely the most expensive meal I’ve ever had for free.
“Our record has basically consumed the past year of my life, so I was really looking forward to taking it easy today. But my girlfriend just flew in from New York—she’s a Rockette—and she was like, ‘OK, we need to move a bunch of stuff from the old house; we need to call the cable company; we need to get the heat back on … ’ They turned my heat off three weeks ago, because apparently I can’t pay bills. I didn’t care, but she’s pretty insistent. Tonight’s our last night home for a while—we leave tomorrow for L.A., then London for mixing. Maybe I’ll trash a hotel room or something. Or maybe I’ll just trash my own place—I don’t really need another bill I won’t pay.”
Day 2: January 8, 2:04 p.m.
Drummer Spencer Smith phones from his Vegas apartment, where he’s packing for the band’s two-week L.A./London adventure.
“Yesterday was a business day. We spent the whole afternoon at Ryan’s condo, finalizing song titles, figuring out the track listing, approving publicity photos and choosing artwork. We also did interviews for this behind-the-scenes DVD we’re making—kind of
Real World confessional-booth style. We thought about going out, but we’re leaving for two weeks—I just wanted to sit on the couch and watch TV with my girlfriend. Plus I just got this new puppy. His name’s Boba Fett—he’s a boxer.
“Right now I’m getting ready to go to the airport—doing laundry, folding shirts, making sure I have all the right adapters. My strategy is, I pack every pair of underwear and socks I own; if I run out, I just go buy more. You can get three pairs of socks at Wal-Mart for, like, five bucks. They’re so cheap, I just wear ’em once and toss ’em. I read somewhere that Damon Dash never wears the same pair of sneakers twice. I’m just like that, except instead of $100 Nikes, it’s Wal-Mart socks.”
Day 3: January 9, 2:58 p.m.
Singer Brendon Urie, taking a break from a long day of corporate shilling, dials us from Los Angeles.
“We’re at Honda headquarters today, shooting a promo video for the Civic Tour we’re headlining this spring. It’s a wonderland of Elements and Odysseys and Accords. Earlier this morning we got to see the Civic Hybrid we designed. Well, I guess more ‘decorated’—I took a year of auto shop, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want me designing your engine. We did the interior and the paint job. Now we’re on our way to lunch in a sweet Honda minivan. I’m going to say the word
Honda a few more times, because I get paid by the mention. Honda, Honda, Honda.
“I don’t like airports, so I decided to drive to L.A.: My roommate Shane drove my car, I rode shotgun and watched
Ace Ventura on the DVD player, and Jon shouted obscenities from the back seat. We didn’t go out or anything—I’m still not 21—but we did have an awesome dinner at this Thai place near our hotel in Santa Monica. I highly recommend it. It’s called Poom Thai Cuisine. That’s P-O-O-
M, as in ‘Mom, I promise I didn’t say that other word.’”
Day 4: January 10, 1:49 p.m.
Back at Honda for another day of glad-handing, bassist Jon Walker checks in with a brand-synergy update.
“Last night the Honda people took us out to an Anaheim Ducks game—you know, ’cause they play at the Honda Center. I grew up in Chicago, so I’ve played some street hockey and been been to a couple of Blackhawks games, but this was crazy! All they did was skate around and smash people into walls. We mostly hung out with the suits from the company, but it was pretty cool. I had a couple of beers, Ryan had a few blue martinis—that was the drink special, strangely—and we all got free chips and guacamole.
“Before the game, the arena people gave us our own Ducks jerseys, just like the ones in the movie. Mine says
walker on it! They even put us up on the Jumbotron for, like, five seconds, but the Ducks had just scored, so no one was paying attention. I’m sure our fans who watch Fox Sports Net loved it, though. We didn’t meet the players, but we did get a picture with the big duck mascot. So I think we came out on top.”
Day 5: January 11, 5:08 p.m.
As they wait for their flight to London at a bar in LAX, Ross calls with an important punctuation bulletin.
“I guess the big news today is we’re dropping the exclamation point from our name. No more ‘Panic! at the Disco.’ We just got sick of it. We thought nobody would even notice, but people are flipping out about it. I always thought it was sort of annoying, personally—too hard to type. Other than that, we really haven’t done much. I guess just dinner at Joe’s Crab Shack with our friend [and label honcho] Pete [Wentz]. We never even got to see the beach.
“I forgot to pack my long johns, but otherwise I’m looking forward to England. People seem to like us there. Then again, when we played the Reading Festival someone hit Brendon in the head with a bottle. So I guess there’s at least one person who doesn’t.
“Oops, gotta go—we’re boarding. It’s a 10-hour flight, so if I fall asleep right as we’re taking off, I can get a full night’s sleep. Unfortunately, I left all my Ambien at home. But that’s why I’m at the bar.”
Day 6: January 13, 7:03 p.m.
One day after jet lag thwarts our appointed call, Smith phones from London’s Abbey Road Studios.“Abbey Road is amazing. We’re in Studio 3, next door to where the Beatles recorded, and we’re working with the guy who’s mixing their back catalogue for iTunes. We haven’t done the whole crossing-the-street photo yet, but soon.
“Some fans posted online that they were gonna come meet us when we got to the studio, and sure enough there was this big group of 17-year-old girls out front. We were like, ‘Oh, man’—we veered off into a driveway and hid behind a hedge, trying to figure out what to do. Finally we said, ‘Screw it. It’s only a few girls—we’ll sign some autographs, take a picture, it’ll take five minutes.’ So we walk up, smiling, and they look over at us and go right on talking. Didn’t even bat an eye. Turns out they were just eating lunch at the PizzaExpress next door. They had no clue who we were.”
Day 7: January 14, 5:59 p.m.
Urie, in the middle of a 12-hour Abbey Road workday, calls with the final update of the week.
“It’s gray here. Gray and cold and wet. January in London—who’d have thought?
“We’ve been wanting to get out and explore the city, see some touristy stuff like Big Ben or that giant Ferris wheel, but so far we’ve spent the whole time mixing—which is a technical way of saying, ‘sitting around the control room listening to the same song over and over.’ No partying, either—we’re finishing really late, and everything here closes at, like, 5 o’clock.
“It’s funny: I’m not old enough to get in anywhere in Vegas, but here in the U.K., where I can actually go to pubs, we’re too busy working. I’m the only single member of the group—I want to get out and get into some trouble. We haven’t even been ambushed by groupies yet! On the other hand, I haven’t been hit by any bottles, either. So I guess, so far so good.