Killers - Rock and delirium in Las Vegas

Part one: glamorous indie rock & roll

Among the statements gathered in Lizzy Goodman's “Meet Me in the Bathroom: Rebirth and Rock and Roll in New York City 2001-2011”, those concerning the Killers portray an extremely driven band. In the pages of another highly recommended read, Retromania by Simon Reynolds, an attempt is made to explain why early-2000s bands so brazenly drew on musical models and generational trends that were chronologically so close to them. Brandon Flowers is obsessed with the Strokes, like so many other aspiring rockstars of the era, and the mantra revolves around discipline, rehearsal and constant improvement. Far from the post-9/11 New York steeped in the Bright Lights of the dark Interpol and brimming with hugely interesting new names (Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD Soundsystem), the Killers do everything they can to stand out and build an identity that could lead them to success.

The competition is truly fierce. “Is This It” and “Turn On the Bright Lights” – opposite yet mirror images of each other – drew an indelible dividing line, and beyond the aforementioned New York artists, within a couple of seasons the "Strokes of the South" take their first steps – to use the term coined in Goodman's book – namely Kings Of Leon. They come from Tennessee, they're all surnamed Followill, being three brothers plus a cousin, and they turn their backs on their preacher father's teachings for the gospel of music. They churn out “Youth And Young Manhood” and “Aha Shake Heartbreak”, while James Murphy's DFA label releases the dance-punk debut “Echoes” by Rapture. “Elephant” by the White Stripes, driven by the future "global anthem" “Seven Nation Army”, definitively establishes the duo on stages across the world. Meanwhile, on the British side of the Atlantic, nobody's sitting idle: Scotland's Franz Ferdinand reach their own slice of glory with three albums in three years, while Editors, with 2005's “The Back Room”, try to become the new Interpol by way of U2 and R.E.M. (clever, right?).

A thriving scene with room too for the masterpiece debut of Arcade Fire, “Funeral” (2004). Just to mention the most significant names connected to this narrative, with no disrespect to everyone else who emerged in those years and was more or less rightly lumped in with the indie-rock movement.

What was it, then, that allowed the Killers to achieve major international success (rivalled perhaps only by that of the Arctic Monkeys from Sheffield, who with their 2006 debut "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not" even beat the record held by Oasis, and by Kings Of Leon after "Sex On Fire") and to remain at the top of their game ever since (just look at the view and streaming numbers, not to mention their Glastonbury performance in 2019)?

Determination, cunning, a deep bond with tradition and a pronounced melodic gift: these are their main weapons. While Casablancas looks to garage rock and the Cbgb, and Banks to Joy Division (aesthetically too), our heroes drop a clue right from the choice of their name: in the video for "Crystal" by New Order - the first single from 2001's "Get Ready" - the band featured is actually called The Killers... But young Flowers' record collection is fairly eclectic: it ranges from classics like the Beatles to leading names of the '80s such as the Smiths and U2, but also the Cars and the Cure. Then there's Oasis. It's during one of their live shows that Brandon becomes convinced he has only one purpose in life: becoming a rockstar.

The first attempt, however, doesn't pan out: Flowers gets kicked out of his first band, Blush Response, for refusing to move with them to Los Angeles, California. The second attempt will go a lot better. The future singer finds an ad in the newspaper and gets in touch with guitarist Dave Keuning. The result of their first session? Not even in the most optimistic of plotlines could you make this up: it's their most famous song, "Mr. Brightside".

After a few lineup changes involving the drummer and bassist roles (the latter originally covered by Flowers, who now focuses solely on vocals and synths), the band settles into its definitive form with Ronnie Vannucci Jr. on drums and Mark Stoermer on bass. As with every American fairy tale, the lower you start from, the better. The Killers pay their dues head-down through small bars and clubs, while working on their first songs in the meantime.

At this point in the story - consistent with the happy twists that came before - Braden Merrick of Warner Bros. enters the picture. He sees them live and falls for them. Too bad the demo they record doesn't win over the label's top brass. The band still finds a home in England with Lizard King. It's on English soil, in 2003, that the four seal a string of blistering shows, laying solid groundwork for the launch of their first singles and catching the attention of the press. For NME, The Independent, Spin and Rolling Stone, the Killers become the next big thing to be showered with praise in reviews. Pitchfork, on the other hand, gives them a lukewarm welcome, poking fun both at their British colleagues' verdicts and at the band's actual substance. The singer himself would repeatedly state how important Sarah "Ultragrrrl" Lewitinn was to the band's career - former manager of My Chemical Romance and Spin journalist (as well as one of the voices in the aforementioned "Meet Me in the Bathroom", and now head of the label Stolen Transmission) - "guilty" of having introduced the masses to bands she'd bet on, Interpol being just one example. A kind of blessing from someone the New York Times has called one of the most influential voices in music criticism. Recognition that comes with towering expectations.

June 2004: the debut Hot Fuss comes out, and the four are already a phenomenon thanks to singles like "Mr. Brightside" and "Somebody Told Me", the former released in September 2003 and the latter the following March.

The Killers don't invent anything new: they're simply better at figuring out which models to reference and which corners of the market to conquer. They've got grit and charisma, and where talent falls short, they make up for it with cunning. They know how counterproductive it would be to slavishly emulate their idols - in image, sound and lyrics alike - and so they try to offer something appealing, blending seemingly distant tastes - from the New York Dolls, as the singer states in an interview with Seth Rogen, to '90s American rock - to mix the best of the new cocktails. The backdrop is made of deserts and dusty cars, broken loves and lifelong reconciliations, the lights (and shadows) of Sin City. A dazzling, intriguing yet intimate look, suited to romantic confession but equally capable of spilling into the most knowing sensuality. On that last point, the artwork chosen for the singles looks like it belongs on the logos and signage of a strip club. It's rather amusing, by contrast, how awkward Flowers and co. are in their early interviews.

As absolute masterpieces of cinema history like Martin Scorsese's "Casino" and recent, hugely successful TV series like "C.S.I." have taught us, even the most alluring surface can hide rotten flesh underneath. And the Killers follow that same path: a murder marks the opening of Hot Fuss. "Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine" tells the story of a jealous man who can't bear to part with his beloved, and so he confesses: "She couldn't scream while I held her close/ I swore I'd never let her go". The confession opens with buzzing and the sound of a helicopter, as the pick starts working the six strings and a heavily pumped-up bassline comes blasting out of the speakers. The Killers want to make everything clear right from the start, so this thunderous intro gives way to danceable synths and a hurricane of a chorus.

It won't be the only bloody episode on the record: "Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine", together with "Midnight Show" and "Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf" (Sawdust), makes up the so-called "Murder Trilogy", inspired by listening to Morrissey's "Sister I'm A Poet". A triptych of songs built around real-life crime stories that, in Flowers' mind, were meant to become a mini-film directed by none other than David Lynch. Unfortunately, though, the project must have been shelved. To fully grasp the "Murder Trilogy", you need to listen to the songs in reverse order of release. "Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf" is the first chapter, track ten of the debut is the central moment, and the opener is the epilogue. "Midnight Show" is the reckless drive that costs the girl her life: “The crashing tide can hide a guilty girl/ With jealous hearts that start with gloss and curls/ I took my baby’s breath beneath the chandelier/ Of stars and atmosphere/ And watched her disappear/ Into the midnight show…”.

Following the tracklist order of Hot Fuss, just a few seconds after the confession of "Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine" fades out, comes the band's hit par excellence, as well as one of the most beloved and most-played songs of the last twenty years: "Mr. Brightside". That opening riff can still make crowds the world over scream along. Also contributing to the song's success was a famous music video in which, rounding out the love-triangle storyline, alongside model Izabella Miko, seasoned actor Eric Roberts (Julia's brother) also makes an appearance.

More thoughts from a lover consumed by jealousy, though this time they don't spiral into tragedy: that's "Smile Like You Mean It", complete with another successful video. Another spin, another hit: the gossip about that boyfriend who "looks like a girlfriend", namely "Somebody Told Me". Even though the lyrics don't stray from teenage-disco territory, it's impossible to resist this song's irresistible embrace.

The boys, however - despite the euphoria and their young age - also prove they have a soul: "I got soul, but I'm not a soldier", they sing in unison on "All These Things That I've Done", before the vocal turns gospel for the most intense passage, a genuine anthem that gains even more power when performed live.

Hot Fuss's defining trait - for better or worse - is excess. That excess which at times grates but at others, however imperfectly, proves memorable. For the first case, take the harsh synth underpinning "On Top"; for the second, consider the crescendo of "Andy, You're A Star", opened by raw, jagged guitar cuts.

Innocently clumsy is the thunderous "Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll", included on the UK and Australian edition, while the US version features "Change Your Mind", a rather programmatic and even prophetic lyric, in which it's hard not to read autobiographical hints and the hopes of a young Brandon.

Rounding things off are the forgettable "Believe Me Natalie" and the even more questionable laid-back finale of "Everything Will Be Alright".

Meanwhile, on 2 August 2005, Brandon Flowers married Tana Munblowsky in a ceremony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The marriage would produce three children: Ammon Richard (14 July 2007), Gunner (28 July 2009) and Henry Brandon (8 March 2011)

Two years pass, and the camera shifts slightly to frame the Sam's Town Hotel and Gambling Hall. With Sam's Town (2006), the Killers try to rough up their image and sound. Flowers shows up with a mustache and a hint of beard; the rest is done by the black and white, suitably grimy and dusty, desert photography of the legendary Anton Corbijn, whom the band asked to make them look more "chic, gypsy look". Among the Master's shots, we also find another heavyweight of music: the album's producer, Mark "Flood" Ellis, dressed up as a Native American.

The band's trademark energy hasn't been lost, as the first few seconds of the title-track opener prove. The countdown on the snare, the lavish intro, the swelling guitar and the arrival of that magnetic synth passage. The rhythm stays galloping, and the electric scrape of the six strings accompanies Flowers' voice as he tells yet another tale of redemption and vindication among the streets and lights of Las Vegas. Despite the incurable, ever-present rhetoric of "If I believe I can make it", found in nearly every lyric, the singer sharpens his pen, making his writing more effective and evocative: "I took a bullet and I looked inside it/ Running through my veins an American masquerade". A great start.

The following "Enterlude" (which will be mirrored later by the closing "Exitude"), all piano and voice, tries to lend the album a faint concept-like shape, before the arrival of the thrilling "When You Where Young", a turbulent love story accompanied by a video set in Mexico. A sure-fire hit and a classic that still hasn't aged, it might signal a choice toward a more guitar-oriented sound, without straying too far from the band's mainstream/anthem vocation, from their urge to craft perfect moments to be experienced live amid the euphoria of the crowd. But beyond the single, written with Springsteen's "Born To Run" clearly in mind, it's the same old Killers with few variations. The other fine single, "Bones", is musically enriched by horns and by an unmissable video directed by Tim Burton, a director seemingly light years away from the band's world, yet able to lend his famous dark touch to the Killers universe, adding plenty of skeletons and classic horror-movie flourishes to the drive-ins and convertibles. Burton would return a few years later to direct the equally striking video for "Here With Me", alongside his muse Winona Ryder.

The second chapter also gives us their quintessential ballad, all synth pads and melancholy: "Read My Mind", a song the singer considers his crowning achievement, and one that would be remixed by none other than the Pet Shop Boys. Equally successful are the western-tinged ballad "Bling (Confession Of A King)" and the rockier "For Reasons Unknown", the last single lifted from the album.

Beyond the limp "My List", on the rougher end of the spectrum we find "Uncle Jonny" and "This River Is Wild", but the real standout is probably "Why Do I Keep Counting?".

As faithful disciples of the Smiths school of songwriting (the one they were schooled in), the Killers released, a year later, Sawdust, a collection of B-sides, outtakes and rarities of various origins, modeled on "Hatful Of Hollow" and "The World Won't Listen". An operation "dedicated to the fans", as the band was quick to point out. Flipping through this (somewhat premature) collection of minor tracks, a clear picture emerges of a band that is mainstream to its very core (in this sense, the cover of Dire Straits' "Romeo And Juliet", enjoyable and pleasingly unconformist though it is, is enough to earn a definitive fatwa from every "alternative" church), following in the footsteps of a rock sound that couldn't be more classic or more American, steeped in nostalgia and a deep sense of tradition, at times even conservative, but always grounded in solid, old-school pop craftsmanship (which shone brightest especially on the singles).

It ranges from duets with Lou Reed ("Tranquilize") to covers of Joy Division ("Shadowplay", done in a paradoxically New Order style), by way of a few good ideas (the triptych of "Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf", "Sweet Talk" and "Under The Gun") that seem to confirm the overall impression of a boy-band straight off a bedroom poster, with a particular fondness for fussy ornamentation and melodrama drenched in new-romantic spleen, grappling nonetheless with a repertoire that seems to want to reconnect with the Great American Songbook of Johnny Cash, Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen.

Parte seconda: are we dancers?

For 2008's Day & Age, the Killers brought in a producer like Stuart Price (better known as Jacques LuCont to habitués of the coolest dancefloors), who built his fortune on 80s plastic and dance music, between productions for attention-grabbing popstars and slightly more cult synth-pop-revival projects like Zoot Woman. It's precisely the spirit of the latter that hovers over the first single "Human", the catchiest track on the album, thanks to its melancholic melody and just the right amount of flirtation (complete with the famous chorus "Are we human or are we dancer?"). The cloning of late-80s glossy pop also works perfectly on "The World We Live In" and "This Is Your Life", perhaps too démodé and under-produced to find radio success nowadays, but still well-suited to the album's aesthetic.

The most unexpected outcome of the collaboration, however, is reached in the swaggering little march of "Joy Ride", a shameless cross between Wham! on vacation at Club Tropicana and the Talking Heads' little creatures, with sax up front and Flowers hamming it up with obvious relish. As if that weren't enough, the poolside-cocktail vibe also returns on the calmer "I Can't Stay", a Caribbean-flavored ballad.

The stay in Las Vegas' kitschiest hotels ends here; elsewhere, Price fails to rein in the band's stadium-sized instincts, which spill over into "Spaceman", the album's most driving track, where Flowers climbs a melody whose strength lies in its constant key changes. If the single is a thoroughly successful piece, the same can't be said of the flatter "Neon Tiger", nor of the two ballads placed to ideally close out the album's two "sides": too much emphasis and wordiness undermine melodies that are otherwise well-built. Asking the Killers for a bit more restraint might be too much to ask, and could even cost them some of their charm — after all, the verve they brought to this album is already enough to deliver forty perfectly enjoyable minutes of escapism.

With a quick glance at the cover and the song titles, we realize Flowers hasn't moved an inch for his solo debut. Riding the wave of Day & Age's success, in 2010 he released Flamingo, thus joining the crowded club of frontmen from established bands who indulge in a solo detour without putting their band's future at risk. The difference between this case and the vast majority of others is that a frontman usually steps away from the band to try something different, whereas here the songwriting efforts Flowers poured into the album are instead aimed at continuing his band's artistic path. As a result, anyone approaching Flamingo should do so expecting something that doesn't stray far from the three albums the Killers had already released. And since it's precisely in terms of compositional style that Flowers & co. have changed very little over the course of their career, it's only natural that this same style is fully reflected in these new songs.

The melodic touch is always recognizable; where there are differences, and rather noticeable ones at that, is in the sound: just as the Killers have, album after album, leaned increasingly into a brazen gaudiness, almost as if seeking to sync up with the city they come from, Flowers dresses these songs soberly, never giving the impression of wanting to step out of line. He never pushes the tempo or the power to the limit; there's never any kind of layering in the arrangements, but guitar, bass, drums and keyboard always follow very natural, fresh and spontaneous lines; the impression remains the same even in the hint of gospel choir that characterizes "On The Floor", precisely because it too doesn't come across as an excessive embellishment.

This restraint, however, doesn't have the side effect of making all the tracks sound alike: there is, in fact, a good variety between the typical Killers-style epic ("Only The Young", the single "Crossfire", complete with a video featuring Charlize Theron), more introspective moments ("Playing With Fire") and others that are more carefree ("Was It Something I Said?", "Magdalena"). This variety manages to be reasonably effective thanks both to how the different sound elements are arranged and to the inflection of the vocals. Flowers also managed to resist cramming too many tracks onto the album, at least in the standard edition, stopping at ten, so that each individual song's ability to deliver pleasant entertainment wouldn't be watered down by an excessive running time.

Different is the case of the deluxe edition, which includes four extra songs, two of which represent cautious forays into synth-pop ("Jacksonville" and the closing "Right Behind You"), while another, "The Click Was Tickin'", is instead an unexpected nod to Bob Dylan.

The Killers have always been a band best suited to pure, adrenaline-fuelled entertainment, and here Brandon Flowers offers a different kind of entertainment, far more composed and relaxed, but still enjoyable — enough to earn a solid pass.

2012 brought the fourth album of new material, Battle Born. The lesson Stuart Price had imparted on Day & Age, which had steered the band toward a more congenial and playful dimension (for them, at least), seems to have been quickly forgotten; only a faint trace of it survives in the opener "Flesh And Bones" and in the enchanting "Deadlines And Commitments", whose 80s fascinations, however, sound tired and overly self-serious. Even the British DJ/producer himself, present only on "Miss Atomic Bomb", fails to lend them the lightness they were hoping for: he tames them for a few seconds, turning them almost into an Alphaville cover band, before the four men from Nevada rebel and overdo it with a stadium-sized bombast they'd have been better off toning down. Instead, that bombast has become the undisputed star of the new album, as the single "Runaways" proudly proclaims, managing to sink even the typically delicate songwriting of Travis's Fran Healy, who turns in a merely passable "Here With Me".

A certain taste for melodic grandiosity has always set the Killers apart, true, but this time it's compounded — and worsened — by a bombastic, all-"big keyboards and big guitars" production (just listen to "A Matter Of Time" and the title track) that sounds like a head-on collision between the long-haired Jon Bon Jovi and the Cher who used to drive sailors wild (with Queen all singing the funeral eulogy in chorus afterwards). Knowing that two gurus like Brendan O'Brien and Steve Lillywhite are behind the boards this time is a bit unsettling, both because it makes painfully clear that, for these two producers, the days of "VS" and "War" have never felt so distant and irretrievable, and because it automatically puts the Killers in the unflattering position of a band desperate to take the baton from its idols without yet having earned the right, setting themselves up as defenders of a "rocking" grandeur that by now sounds downright anachronistic. If their intentions weren't already clear enough, among the songwriters credited there's also one Daniel Lanois. At least he manages to be a genuine asset: the three tracks bearing his signature are, in fact, also the best of the lot: the lean "The Way It Is" and the ballad "Heart Of A Girl" (which also has Lanois on production duties) feature melodies that finally land, managing not to be crushed by the pomposity of his fellow producers, while the aching, suspended "Be Still" reminds us that Flowers, in the right context, could actually be an excellent vocalist and not just a poseur.

Part Three: Wonderful Wonderful

A year after Battle Born (the beloved slogan of the state of Nevada), the band released their first best-of, Direct Hits. The blatant, tongue-in-cheek self-referential spirit already on display in the video for "Miss Atomic Bomb" from the previous release — essentially a sequel to "Mr. Brightside" — reaches its peak in the new track "Just Another Girl". In the song's video, recorded with Stuart Price's involvement, Dianna Agron takes on the role of Killers frontwoman as the band's famous sets unfold around her. If that piece plays up the cinematic/visual side of things, the other new song is no less impressive: the massive single "Shot At The Night" — this time featuring a bona fide brand name like M83 — instantly became one of the band's biggest hits and one of their most-watched clips. A quick-hook melody and chorus, and four minutes in the life and hopes of a beautiful young Las Vegas hotel waitress.

In 2015 Brandon Flowers released his second solo album, The Desired Effect. Naturally, our man was always over the top, and over the top he remains, and to properly enjoy this record you'll need to get in the mindset of grabbing a fan scarf and an air horn, and settling into the stands of a stadium of your choosing, engulfed in smoke flares and "oh oh ohh" chants. After that, you might even find it gaudier than usual (actually, no — just look at the cover of Battle Born, and its contents, to be proven wrong), but one carrying a message finally free of self-seriousness, making it easier to accept the invitation that seems to pour from his piercing voice: "Okay, this time just focus on having fun, I'll take care of the rest." Produced by the much-in-demand Ariel Rechtshaid (between Vampire Weekend and Madonna there's an ocean of musicians, including our own Album of the Month artist Tobias Jesso Jr.) and mixed by the trusted, expert Alan Moulder (who's worked with, among others, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Ride, Nine Inch Nails and White Lies, and who was already present on the Killers' first two albums), The Desired Effect represents a happy meeting between the most colourful synth-pop that landed in America in the 80s and the arena rock that, in those same years, was already firmly at home in the States. Listening to Brandon Flowers's album is like switching on Videomusic on a summer night in '83 or '84, moving among the pyramids of Asia's "Don't Cry", John Wetton's big face front and centre, or on Elton John's beach, decked out in extravagant finery and surrounded by throngs of kitsch dancers, belting out "I'm Still Standing", or finding yourself amid the stars-and-stripes deserts in the company of the UFO cowboy of Tom Petty's "You Got Lucky". And then amid the inevitable Styx power ballads gliding nonchalantly over Howard Jones's bleached-blond mop, or over Nik Kershaw's wide-screen outfits: different trends, yet all united under the single banner of an electric pop anthem. But it also means, above all, watching Brandon leap aboard the train cutting through the English suburbs of "Smalltown Boy" to sit down next to Jimmy Somerville, and craft, on that cornerstone tune of the video-clip generation, his own brand-new "I Can Change", which even steals a cameo from Neil Tennant, almost closing the circle opened with "Where The Streets Have No Name (Can't Take My Eyes Off You)".

After the solo chapter, it's time for the Killers to return to the stage: on the new album Wonderful Wonderful (2017), Stoermer and Keuning fade further into the background (live, they're even replaced by session players) and the band increasingly takes the shape of its frontman. And Brandon Flowers really is good at what he does. He's the only one, out of the entire 80s-revival brood, who hasn't given up, who's stayed at his post, who knows how to build a record that's genuinely captivating, that grows on you, that lodges itself in the circuits of your memory, that tickles your melodic instincts, that forces you to strike a pose, put on sunglasses, let the light hit you just right while a breeze tousles your hair in slow motion, that compels you to move on tiptoe, almost dancing, cartoonish but far from stupid (just don't try it out on the street, or people will think you're a fool). Brandon makes you feel like the star of a music video all over again.

And Brandon is the keeper of a mainstream art form that today gets mutilated, torn to shreds by the charlatans of the big singalong chorus and the flat, straight four-on-the-floor beat, by the builders of songs that start quiet, build steadily, and then take a run-up for the big wave of hands in the air. People who sing about Beautiful Days and Paradise, always and forever, who might even slip in a nice little sermon and then, off they go, everyone singing along, I'd like to sing with you, in perfect harmony. No, Brandon is different: he builds songs by tracing them from prestigious templates, mixes them together and pulls out proper hooks — classic, old, yet somehow fresh.

On the new album, the first to be released simultaneously in the UK and US, the title track moves anxiously like a combat-rock track from the good old days, with a pulsing bass, a feverish spoken delivery, keyboards mimicking strings, before opening up into a masterful chorus — broad, well defined, even declamatory, but never crass. Then comes "The Man" and everything changes: a tribute to George Michael, with Sparks lending a disco-flavoured hand, and production that could be Daft Punk's, or Nile Rodgers's, or whoever you like. Because what really matters is Brandon's delivery, which makes everything irresistible.

Tracks like "Rut" and "Life To Come" go by, and you find yourself wondering where you've heard them before, with all that backdrop of synths, the gospel choir, the ghost of Bono from back when he was still a singer, memories and counter-melodies of shooting stars lost in the mists of time or of some discarded old cathode-ray tube (Cock Robin, anyone?!). But add just a touch more and Brandon takes even Marian Gold, the Teutonic voice of Alphaville, hostage — though if it is a kidnapping, it's a thoroughly affectionate one. Marian, in short, has a grand old time at Brandon's place and makes a spectacular reappearance as if it were 1984 all over again on "Run For Cover". Brandon ought to set up an agency to help washed-up, heartbroken ex-pop-stars: all it would take is for him to impersonate them in his tribute songs. Remember Ric Ocasek, leader of the Cars, the man who wrote super-catchy little tunes while enjoying a level of respectability denied to most of his peers? No?! No problem — Brandon's got him covered to a tee, all while telling you about Tyson's defeat to Douglas back in 1990. Brandon is the apotheosis of nostalgia, Brandon is all of us who love spending time with old photo albums!

This blessed lad, raised with his eyes dazzled by MTV, has something for everyone. At one point, for instance, he decides to do an impression of Chris Martin, the great prankster, but puts real effort into it and builds a perfect Coldplay-style song, sinuous, soft, whispered, empty, devoid of meaning — "Some Kind Of Love" — and meanwhile everyone around is already holding up their smartphones, and someone, overcome with emotion, is already doing the wave. And even when he doesn't quite know what he's doing, as happens on "The Calling", a sort of even more monotone "Personal Jesus", he always manages to find just the right room in which to lay a perfectly set table.

But the final blow is the work of a true master: Brandon asks himself, asks us, maybe even runs a poll, wondering "Have All The Songs Been Written?" — a genuinely chilling question, honestly, because it feels more relevant and legitimate today than ever. And while waiting for an answer, he goes and redoes "Brothers In Arms"?! With Mark Knopfler on guitar, of course. Brandon Killers has found the recipe for having fun, entertaining others, and making a ton of money, to reinvest in his own enjoyment and ours: making albums with no real story, no connecting thread, no real point to them. Collections of songs, well written, tributes produced and performed with such skill they end up sounding original, imbued with a style all their own. Brandon Killers, the pop washing machine, has written his masterpiece. But rest assured, he'll write another one.

And indeed, with Imploding The Mirage (2020), the Killers land definitively in synth-pop territory. The path that began with the great indie wave of the early 2000s and later settled into a classic pop-rock sound sprinkled with 80s glitter now — helped along by the departure of founding guitarist Dave Keuning and bassist Mark Stoermer's reduced role as a mere studio session player — increasingly takes the sonic shape of Brandon Flowers, whose melodic calling had already been made abundantly clear on the solo outings Flamingo and The Desired Effect. Gone are the guitars of "When You Were Young", gone the pompous rock of Battle Born, and there are no dissonant surges like the one on the gorgeous title track of its predecessor: Imploding The Mirage (2020) is a comforting pop concentrate, well accompanied visually right from the cover, which features Thomas Blackshear's artwork "Dance of the Wind and Storm". An easy, winning move, one that earned positive reviews even from quarters often hostile to the band, on top of the usual spot at the top of charts worldwide. It's a relaxed, open-hearted scenario, born of the frontman's move away from Sin City, back to the state of his childhood — Utah — to be closer during the delicate issues with his wife that had marked Wonderful Wonderful (listen to the aching "Rut").

What never changes is the imagery: from the debut video or the hit "Human", through the iconic Mojave-style covers, the Killers love their own world and have absolutely no intention of leaving it, surrounded as ever by car chases, deserts, blue jeans serenades and cowboy hats.

That's confirmed by the preview releases "Imploding The Mirage", "Caution" and "My Own Soul's Warning": the perfect soundtrack for the summer that never happened. If the videos tell a new love story woven through cameras, stages and regrets, musically what stands out is their gripping freshness: the first for its galloping mood, its cinematic storytelling (“Let me introduce you to the featherweight queen/ She’s got Hollywood eyes but you can’t shoot what she’s seen/ Her momma was a dancer/ And that’s all that she knew/ ‘Cause when you live in the desert it’s what pretty girls do”) and its spot-on, winning refrain; the second for a synth riff that's impossible to shake after just one listen.

Compositionally, Keuning is replaced in the studio by top-tier session players (Lindsey Buckingham of Fleetwood Mac, who adds a flourish to “Caution” with his solo, Adam Granduciel of War on Drugs, Jonathan Rado, also co-producer alongside Shawn Everett), with the ever-shrewd Flowers once again enlisting Alex Cameron after the positive results of Wonderful Wonderful, where he had helped the band write some of the songs.

Pop, yes, but how much? A lot. On the closing, self-titled track, the Las Vegas boys can even bring to mind Wham! Another major reference point on the album is – once again – the Boss. The march of “Dying Breed” is propped up by parts of “Hallogallo” and “Moonshake” by NEU! and Can – just to make sure no sacred monster is left off the usual list of name-checks – but once it takes flight, we're firmly in the wake of “Thunder Road” and “Born To Run”. The female vocal contributions work well too: Weyes Blood – the name you wouldn't expect, but it works – on “My God”, and k.d. Lang on “Lightning Fields”. With this latter song, Flowers puts together another trilogy, quite different from the famous “Murder Trilogy” (“Leave The Bourbon On The Shelf”, “Midnight Show” and “Jenny Was A Friend of Mine”). “That’s my mom talking to my dad”, the singer said of this heartfelt new ballad, written with his parents' relationship in mind, as he had previously done for “A Dustland Fairytale” (Day & Age) and “The Clock Was Tickin'” (Flamingo). If the funk of “Fire In Bone” blends well with the tight, well-matched “Running Towards A Place” and “When The Dreams Run Dry”, the standout in the rest of the tracklist is “Blowback”, with its crystalline chorus properly backed by six strings. Having absorbed and consolidated the game of references into their own grammar, on their sixth album the Killers finally reveal themselves for what they are: a band perhaps unlikely to make music history, but capable of turning out excellent pop every single time. Which is no small thing.

Looking at the cover of Pressure Machine (2021), it's hard not to think of “Nebraska” by Bruce Springsteen. A spontaneous comparison, given how openly Flowers & co. have always shown their love for the Boss. If on the previous Imploding The Mirage “Dying Breed” nodded to “Thunder Road” and “Born To Run”, that reverence – made explicit as far back as Sam’s Town – was further sealed by the recent release of “Dustland” (a reworking of “A Dustland Fairytale” from Day & Age), sung together with Springsteen himself. The Killers' new record could have been called “Utah”, being a concept about the state where Flowers not only spent his childhood but where he returned to better look after his wife's health. The lyrics, written by the singer, are all set in his hometown of just over five thousand people, Nephi. Another realistic touch: messages from the town's residents between songs. It's a setting far removed from the controversial glitter of Las Vegas: here we get murky black-and-white tones (as in the artwork for Sam’s Town) and a photograph by Wes Johnson, different from the piece chosen as the cover for its predecessor, “Dance Of The Wind And Storm” by Thomas Blackshear.

Beyond the graphic and conceptual side of things, Pressure Machine (again produced by Jonathan Rado and Shawn Everett) departs from its predecessor and opts for an acoustic sound. Harmonica and piano streak the more sorrowful tracks, and a dusty, desert wind blows through the voice, the instruments and the rare glimpses of sunlight (“In The Car Outside”, “In Another Life”). No synth-pop jolts or six-string stadium anthems here, but classic guitars and warm western flavors, while the singer, following in the footsteps of another towering reference point, Johnny Cash, tells stories – sometimes crime stories (the opener “West Hills”, “Desperate Things”), sometimes personal and dramatic ones (“Terrible Thing”). Besides “Runaway Horses”, sung with Phoebe Bridgers, other highlights worth noting include “Cody”, “Sleepwalker” and the violin that closes out the title track.

While the compositional inspiration doesn't quite match up to the aforementioned reference points (in fact, in some passages like “Terrible Thing”, Springsteen's imprint is felt a bit too strongly) and the underlying concept is hardly a novel idea, the Killers focus on the work as a whole, within their own simplicity and a grammar built on fixed thematic references forever tied to their pop vocation (clearly on show here in “Quiet Town”, the passage closest to Imploding The Mirage). So far, Pressure Machine has only been preceded by three short trailers, with no video or lead single: a few less potential hits, perhaps, but in favor of a coherent, enjoyable record from start to finish.

In 2026 Brandon Flowers returns with Thrasher, a solo work in which the Killers frontman recounts a journey in search of himself and his own roots. As happens in the video for “My Own Soul’s Warning”, all it takes is an embroidered jacket and a cowboy hat, and the transformation is complete; twenty years after Hot Fuss, the most British of them all finds himself singing the great American epic, tackling a genre that couldn't be more made in Usa: country. Looking back, he's always slipped it into his work, and ever since his move to Utah it had almost become a style statement. That said, Thrasher isn't exactly pure country (à la Marty Robbins or Buck Owens), nor is it a muscular pop makeover in the vein of Orville Peck. It's a glamorous roots-rock, very much Springsteen, somewhere between the medicine-show spirit of the Seeger Sessions and the skeletal Spoon River feel of “Nebraska“, enriched though by arrangements as true to the genre as possible. So, amid slide guitar, bells, harmonicas, violins and choruses, the melodies drift gently back and forth exactly where you'd expect them to, on those summer nights lit up by barn dances in the fields – back when Lana Del Rey was still falling for outlaws. A record that captures the image of a man striving with everything he has to find the strength not to give in to his own shadows, while also showing us, if any further proof were needed, Brandon Flowers' talent as both performer and songwriter.

Contributions by Francesco Giordani (“Sawdust”), Stefano Fiori (“Battle Born”, “Day & Age”), Davide Sechi (“Wonderful Wonderful”), Stefano Bartolotta (“Flamingo”), Marco Bercella (“The Desired Effect”), Luca Viti (“Thrasher”)

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