BRANDON FLOWERS - Thrasher

Opening with a long love letter and farewell to new wave, the journey of Las Vegas's favorite son in search of himself begins. Away from Nevada, following a sentimental itinerary that "contains multitudes," as Walt Whitman, the poet of the nation par excellence, would say.
As happens in the video for "My Own Soul's Warning," all it takes is an embroidered jacket and a cowboy hat, and the metamorphosis is complete: Brandon Flowers has come home. The most British of them all, twenty years on, finds himself singing the great American epic, grappling with a genre that couldn't be more made in the USA: country.

On closer inspection, he's been slipping it into his work for years now, and since moving back to live in Utah it's become a veritable style manifesto. "Imploding The Mirage" and the (deathly dull) "Pressure Machine" show just how far he's drifted from the nocturnal neurosis of "Hot Fuss"; and even in the solo records "Flamingo" and "The Desire Effect" ("Magdalena," "The Clock Was Tickin'," "Diggin' up The Heart") there were already hints of a catharsis waiting to become epiphany.
"Thrasher," though, isn't quite pure country (in the Marty Robbins or Buck Owens vein), nor a muscular pop reworking à la Orville Peck. It's a glamorous roots-rock, very Springsteen, somewhere between the medicine-show swagger of the Seeger Sessions and the skeletal Spoon River of "Nebraska," but enriched with arrangements that mimic the genre as closely as possible. So between slide guitar, bells, harmonicas, fiddles and choruses, the melodies drift in and out sweetly exactly where you'd expect them to, on those summer nights lit up by barn dances in the countryside — back when Lana Del Rey still fell for outlaws.

The opening of "Does It Ever Cross Your Mind" and the following "One Of Us" are the most distinctly traditional: a bouncing rhythm and cowboy vocal delivery telling of the small hardships of small-town life and the wholesome scent of ordinary people. Then comes the ultra-radio-friendly trio of singles "Tiger's Blood," "Plans" and "Paradise," tracks that work without a shred of hesitation, well-built and full of pathos.
"Miss America" works too, with Brandon Flowers giving voice to a "girl, interrupted" in a dark, intense and deeply felt atmosphere. As do "Angel" and "In A Heart Beat," whose drama wraps around us like a cool breeze.

Riding through the western-pop of a cinco de mayo on “The Red Ground”, we arrive at the shimmering finale of “An American Dream”, a long panorama of small miseries that adorns the bovarism of working-class America. The narrative's high point is the appearance of a redemptive Elvis, “clean and sober”, who smiles at the question “was it all worth it?” and is moved to tears remembering his daughter Lisa Marie. It's a remarkable track, aching and dreamlike, a gentle kodak carousel of nostalgia that bursts into a choral gospel (dripping with Americana and Jesus like syrup on pancakes).
In short, it's as if Mastroianni, at the end of “La Dolce Vita”, truly wanted to listen to the girl's voice, and became convinced that the best way to fight his own listlessness was to leave the parties and cynicism of the Capital behind and move to the Maremma countryside. The pure, hard-won serenity of the working class as an antidote to every kind of ghost; healing the existential crisis with a ritual baptism in the spirit of community, recognizing oneself as part of that share of wounded, sinful humanity in search of redemption.

It's undoubtedly a fine album, one that portrays a man determined not to surrender to his own shadows, while also reminding us, if we needed reminding, of Brandon Flowers's talent as both performer and songwriter. My advice is to listen to it while doing manual work: fixing a kitchen drawer, steadying a wobbly chair leg, or washing the car under a blazing sun. Join in the chorus of "Gold and silver, God and glitters, lights that flicker on hubcap chrome" and you'll feel like a good and righteous person, strong and disillusioned, maybe finally home.

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29/08/2026