Platinum debut albums are both a blessing and a curse. Panic at the Disco has already reaped the advantages of its million-selling first release, 2005's A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. That would include big tours, sold-out dates, adoring fans, ubiquitous radio airplay. While crafting its sophomore follow-up, Pretty. Odd, the Las Vegas quartet experienced the flip side of stratospheric debut success, namely trying to make lightning strike twice.

"In the back of our minds we've all had this feeling of, "Wow, what's going on?'" says bassist Jon Walker. "It has all happened so fast. We'd been going non-stop up until starting to write the next record. We spent pretty much of '07 writing the record and it was probably the first time we'd stepped back and actually realized what had happened and kind of went, 'Whoa, that was pretty crazy. Now what?' But after a few months, we got our stuff together and phased all that out and started writing songs."

During Panic's nearly two solid years of touring (Walker, a guitar tech for The Academy Is..., replaced original bassist Brent Wilson in mid-2006), the band talked about its sophomore album having the structure of a short story and the possibility of a conceptual thread running through the songs. After a much-needed six-week break at the end of '06, Panic spent the next three months working out song sketches along those thematic lines.

"We didn't get any songs done, but we got like eight to 10 ideas for songs that never got finished," says Walker. "It took us some time to get used to writing songs and actually having the time to search and discover what we wanted to be doing. I think we went into it with high hopes and we were really eager to write again."

Although Panic went into the initial writing phase for Pretty. Odd with the intention of creating new songs within the conceptual framework it envisioned, the sessions turned into more of a palate-clearing writing exercise for the band. Nothing from those early sessions survived to make it onto the new album.

"We'd been touring for so long, and we hadn't written anything on tour," says Walker. "We were definitely rusty. We were never discouraged by it but we were never really excited by it. We were having a lot of fun, we were all getting along really well, but it wasn't coming out in the songs we were writing. And that was a big thing for us. I think we realized that after playing the same songs for two years, we had a chance to write more songs that we're going to play for the next two years, so we better make sure we're going to have fun doing it."

Panic's conceptual, short-story structure may have been a shade too heavy in theme and tone for a sophomore release, especially for a band as young and exuberant as Panic. The umbrella idea also limited the band in their songwriting approach and anything that limits a young, successful band is ultimately not a good idea.

"The concept thing was constraining us from what we could write because it had to fall between what we were trying to achieve," says Walker. "We had a conversation one night when we were back in Vegas, moving into our practice space, and we were like, "Let's just write a song to write a song, and not have an agenda. That first night, we wrote "Nine in the Afternoon,' which is the first single. After we did that, it reassured us that, even though we were three months in, we could start over and write a whole album and be really happy with it. "Nine in the Afternoon' gave us a lot of momentum."

Perhaps most importantly, Panic's original members (singer-guitarist Brandon Urie, guitarist/keyboardist Ryan Ross, drummer Spencer Smith) wrote much of A Fever You Can't Sweat Out when they were still in high school, a long way chronologically and emotionally from the album's eventual success and the band's subsequent global experiences.

"That's really apparent on the new album," says Walker. "We took a more classic approach to songwriting, in the sense that we grew up and started to listen to more music. We've become a little less angsty. Things have been pretty good for us and we're all pretty happy. The thing that comes out in the album is that we're having a lot of fun. We're still pretty young and grateful to be where we are."

For the songs on Pretty. Odd, as evidenced by the album's aforementioned infectious Kinks-colored "Nine in the Afternoon," the members of Panic found inspiration in their parents' record collections, a sound they had rediscovered on the road over the previous two years.

"People have been telling us that it's way different but in a good way," says Walker. "We definitely started listening to more different music. We got back into the Beatles and Tom Petty and Bob Dylan, classic songwriters that we ended up growing a lot of appreciation for while we were on the road. We didn't rip them off in any way; we were just really inspired by the character and creativity that they have."

With the shift in material, Panic took a more immediate approach to its songs in the studio, giving Pretty. Odd an even greater vibrancy than Fever.

"We recorded live and we recorded a lot to tape," says Walker. "There's a little bit more character in it and there's more of a band feel. It doesn't feel as produced or perfect, there's a little more human characteristic to it, which we all really like a lot. Some of those bands back in the '60s, that's the one thing they really had that's been lost with the rise in technology."

Pretty. Odd has more than just a spiritual connection to the '60s. The album was mixed at the legendary Abbey Road studio in London.

"Our producer said that he needed to do the strings and orchestration at Abbey Road, because it was the best," says Walker. "Obviously, we didn't have any arguments with that. I'm a huge Beatles and Zombies and Radiohead fan and the names go on with what's been done at that studio. We stayed at a hotel about 15 minutes away and we walked to and from the studio every day because it was interesting to actually be there and think about what's gone down there."

The perfect alignment of opportunity and proximity to one of rock's most recognizable tableaus begs an obvious question: Did Panic at the Disco attempt to recreate the famous crosswalk cover of the Beatles album named after the iconic studio?

"Yeah, we did," says Walker with a laugh. "It was kind of cheesy, but we kind of had to."

Panic at the Disco, The Hush Sound, Phantom Planet: 7 p.m. Friday, May 16, at Time Warner Cable Amphitheater, 1887 W. 3rd St., 216.241.5555.