While you were all distracted by the Grammy's last night, one of the greatest and most confusing televised performances in history took place. Taking to Jimmy Kimmel as part of the show's Mash-Up Monday's series, Panic! at the Disco and Sisqo combined forces – as Panic! at the Sisqo, obviously – to perform "The Thong Song".
I'd like to preface things by emphasising that there is nothing about this that isn't amazing. Sure, they might seem like an unlikely pair, their union a concept that should have been left to die with the Punk Goes... series, but actually, Panic! at the Disco and Sisqo have more in common than you would think.
Panic! are famous for combining earnestness and theatrics in a way nobody had seen since cock rock died. Have you heard "I Write Sins Not Tragadies"? Seen the video? It's practically "emo" vaudeville. They put "baroque pop" on the map, for God's sake. Equally, "The Thong Song" is hands down the most bombastic love letter ever written to an undergarment. I don't even have the time to count the number of emotional key changes that occur towards the end, but it is a lot. That song is almost five minutes long, which sounds reasonable enough until you realise that the only lyrics in the last two minutes are "Whoa", "Uh alright", "Uh whoa yeah", "Ooh", and "Whoa".
Anyway, that's all academic, because really who doesn't want to see Brendon Urie in leather trousers wiggle his hips and sing, "She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck" while Sisqo falsetto's with his fist passionately clenched, wearing a snapback that says "BLOW" on it. This is a piece of culture that oscillates endlessly between irony and sincerity, leaving the word "Thong" to echo through eternities. It is at once the most perfect and shit thing I have ever seen.
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