Panic! At The Disco The over-orchestrated slick-shlock of these pretentious gits is what you get upon combining ’80s synth-coated dance drek and the titanic self-absorption of Emo. Like a biological warfare experiment gone horribly wrong, once the music of these acts (c.f., The Bravery, too) leaked out into the atmosphere it begat an army of eyeliner-wearing, teenage mallrat mutants whose narcissism made them, in effect, zombies. Panic is the type of disposable band whose discs used to crowd used CD bins as soon as their legions matured at least to the point where they realized heartache is actually pretty banal, and Kohl on men quite stupid looking. Touring with Fun. (Note: the annoying punctuation is theirs) and Foxy Shazam. $35.25. The Fillmore. www.livenation.com.