Panic at the Disco isn't emo.

The band has gone to great lengths to prove it: They dropped the asinine "!" from their name, stopped wearing (noticeable) makeup, and, to top it off, they've released an album that's been inspired by music their parents listen to.

The boys of Panic at the Disco have grown up into men and want to be taken seriously, and it's not much of a ridiculous request after all.

Unfortunately, it's hard to take a band seriously that introduces their grown-up album with self-indulgence. "Oh, how it's been so long / We're so sorry we've been gone / We were busy writing songs for you," lead singer Brandon Urie sings on the album's intro. He then goes on to reassure us that "You don't have to worry / 'cause we're still the same band."

However, it soon becomes quite clear that the latter statement is a downright lie. In no way is this the same band that released 2005's A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.

Forget angsty Chuck Palahniuk-inspired imagery with tinny guitars on top of digitized production; this band now has Beatles on the brain. They aren't just inspired by the Beatles; they want to be the freakin' Beatles. In fact, they may actually think they are this generation's Beatles with Pretty. Odd. being their own conceited, bloated version of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

When it comes right down to it, this album is the definition of the word "sophomoric." Panic must think that in order to have a good song they need to be as over-the-top as possible. Besides the vast overuse of brass and string orchestration, the lyrics on this album are just pure nonsense, albeit Beatles-inspired nonsense. On "The Piano Knows Something I Don't" Urie sings, "I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hair / It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere." It's this type of elevated melodrama that plagues this album's lyrical content.

And Urie's voice doesn't help. His Patrick Stump-like vocal style is so on the edge and forced, it sounds like he's ready to explode at any second. It isn't until lead guitarist Ryan Ross takes the mic that the album gets most interesting. After hearing him sing lead vocals on "Behind the Sea," I immediately wished that he had done the vocals for the entire album.

To the band's credit, even if they are trying to be the next Beatles, they pull off some songs well. "Nine in the Afternoon" is a cheery number that practically forces you to tap your foot. It's probably the best song on the album, featuring an even mix of brass and strings, and lyrics that, for once, aren't littered with a convoluted sense of importance. "Behind the Sea" and "Mad as Rabbits" also stand out, merely for featuring Ross on vocals.

Also, musically, this album is a big step up from Fever. Even though Panic is essentially trying to emulate their newfound heroes, they do it well from a purely technical standpoint.

My main problem with this album, though, is the Beatles complex this band has. There's nothing wrong with having influences, but if you're consciously aiming for perfection, then it isn't going to end well. Trying to be respected as musicians by releasing an album full of '60s hippie-rock songs is like a family of illegal immigrants painting their house red, white and blue to prove their citizenship. They're not fooling anyone.

I think I liked Panic better when they were emo. At least then they didn't take themselves too seriously.

Grade: C