Pretty. Odd.

Pretty. Odd. has the feeling of music made with a lot of joy. There are many instruments and many melodies, and often just as I’ve remembered one line, another harmony or some brass pops up next to it. It’s occasionally a bit too full, but that eagerness to keep putting new ideas in makes it hard for me to dislike it.

We’re So Starving is like a short opening speech, with a joking tone of talking to the audience. Right after, Nine in the Afternoon pushes out piano, drums and brass together, with a melody so bright it has almost no shadow. The time in the title makes no sense, but the music is completely sure of itself, as if as long as everyone sings together, there’s no need to hurry to explain what time it actually is.

The sixties pop feeling of this album is very obvious. Acoustic guitar, piano, strings, brass and many-part harmonies are packed together, and there are often short transitions between verses and choruses. It is very different from their previous album, but listening to it, it doesn’t feel like it is trying hard to prove the change everywhere. The band seems to be genuinely interested in these sounds, and willing to decorate a song until there is something to hear in every corner.

The good thing about She’s a Handsome Woman and That Green Gentleman (Things Have Changed) is that although the arrangements are lively, the songs themselves still stand up. The rise and fall of the melody is clear, the rhythm has spring, and Brendon Urie’s voice is more willing to move along with the whole band. He can still sing very brightly, but here his voice often has a smile in it, and the drama is less tightly wound.

Northern Downpour is one I would pick out to listen to on its own. The earlier songs keep throwing things outward, and here the melody can finally slow down. The lyrics have many jumping images, and not every line can necessarily be explained exactly. But the direction of the singing is very clear: there is longing, there is worry, and there is also the meaning of not wanting the other person to leave. When the harmonies come in again and again, those lines that seem a bit obscure suddenly become easier to accept. The melody has already built the feeling for them, and the listener doesn’t need to hurry to translate word by word.

When the Day Met the Night brings the color back again. It uses the sun and the moon to write about meeting, and the swing of the acoustic guitar and the brass that unfolds behind it give this little story an almost fairy-tale seriousness. If a subject like this were handled a little stiffly, it could easily seem forced. Luckily they sing it with enough commitment, and also enough ease.

Behind the Sea lets Ryan step to the front. His lead vocal isn’t as piercing as Brendon’s, which actually suits the floating, loose feel of this song. The voices and instruments don’t have a strong main and supporting order, and many small details sway in the same space. It makes me feel that Pretty. Odd. is still a band album where you can hear the members influencing each other.

Of course, the traces of retro are sometimes too easy to spot. As soon as the strings come in and the harmonies unfold, you think of the Beatles or other sixties bands. With several short songs and interludes lined up together, attention is also bound to scatter. Its pleasantness doesn’t always come from something especially new that was discovered; sometimes it is just using a familiar method happily.

Still, from the Baroque-flavored strings of She Had the World, to the short country feeling of Folkin’ Around, to the two people trading vocals in Mad as Rabbits, these changes make me willing to accept its mix. At the close, the brass and chorus come back lively again, and the whole album seems to finally have laid out everything it wanted to say and wanted to play with.

What I like about Pretty. Odd. is also exactly that it isn’t very restrained. Those extra little phrases, those harmonies that take a detour, could really be cut sometimes, but after cutting them, the fun of this group of people trying things together might be gone too. When I listen to it, I’d rather follow the melody and leave identifying influences and explaining metaphors for later.