Words by Allen Lulu//Illustration by Abby Rodriguez
The Killers (or The Brandon Flowers Project) clearly want to be around for a while. Hopeful for career longevity and patterning themselves after longtime rockers like Springsteen and U2, they offer up their magnum opus, “Sam’s Town.”

But, pity poor Brandon Flowers. Gracing the cover of nearly every music rag over the last year, I got the impression that this guy really, REALLY wants to be a rock star. And, after years of self-effacing, apologetic cry-babies pervading the scene, that’s a welcome change. Because I want rock stars who want to be ROCK STARS. In all its costume changing, image-altering, preening, grandiose glory. But, when you grab at the Bowie-brass ring, when you find yourself quoted nine ways to Sunday, and you talk about how your band’s next album is going to be one of the best of the last 20 years, you KNOW you are setting the bar pretty high, and no one welcomes failure more than the American armchair rock critic. And, for bombastic good measure, tell the world that you were heavily influenced by Springsteen as you wrote this album, because a) you probably were and b) you are reaching for the stars, dude, and to reach them you gotta shoot high.

So, here comes “Sam’s Town,” bombastic in every way that “Hot Fuss” was not. I would expect, by definition as a sophomore effort that it’s gonna suck.

For the record, let me say that “Hot Fuss” was one of those albums that completely flew under my radar in 2004. While I was caught up in listening to The Go! Team, The Libertines, “American Idiot,” Jet and Loretta Lynn’s “Van Lear Rose” all summer, my wife asked me to pick up an album called “Hot Fuss” and I figured, with a title like that, this has gotta be awful. And then I heard a track or two and I realized, “Oh, hey, this is retro-80’s dance pop and it’s not as good as IMA Robot’s album by far, which popped and crackled with just the right amount of distaff sexiness and apocalyptic danceability.” But, I had no idea what was about to happen. It’s a story as old as rock and roll itself. Unknown debut catches fire and the imagination of a starving public and, lo and behold, instant mega-stardom. So, as I am wont to do on long trips, I slipped the disc in on our yearly sojourn to Sonoma for the holidays and found myself grooving to just about every track. And my wife would be singing along and saying, “Right?” every time I admitted that, yo, I kinda liked this album.

So, I was looking forward to “Sam’s Town”. (The Springsteen allusions were enticing, I must admit, being a Jersey Boy). I avoided the single “When You Were Young” every time it came on, until I, beaten into submission by the sheer likeability of this song, bought it from iTunes and played it for my litmus test, er, I mean, my wife. Of COURSE we both dug it. Of COURSE I can’t get it out of my head. It’s a crafted piece of corporate rock posing as indie rock. And when I got my hands on an advance copy of the album I had no idea what to expect (well, not true, I was expecting a Springsteen redux, all the critics had prepared me for that).

In this age of disposable pop music it would probably be best to go track-by-track but that would be a disservice to this album. The singles are there. “When You Were Young,” “Sam’s Town” and the especially catchy and fun “Bones” with its horns evoking some late 70’s glam rock stadium band. In fact, “Bones” sounds like Duran Duran got drunk and had sex with Chicago and, like all drunken, sloppy sex, you feel great while it’s happening and afterward you wish every time was like that time, but it’s never as good.

But, it’s a disservice because “Sam’s Town” isn’t influenced by Springsteen, in the least bit. I was raised with the Boss. I would be happy if everybody who claimed to be influenced by Bruce actually sounded like they were, indeed, heirs to the thrown. And while the 80s dance-pop-glam is there (where could it go? Flowers is a child of that era), that genre, thankfully, isn’t the main inspiration either.

Because “Sam’s Town” is the long lost nephew of the Jim Steinman/Meatloaf creation, “Bat Out of Hell”—good stories, just enough teenage angst and desperation, with high-flying, soaring choruses, and epic posing to keep the listener interested, while at the same time realizing, there isn’t much “there” there. And yet, I enjoyed the ride.

For the most part.

The worst thing about “Sam’s Town,” the biggest flaw, the element that makes the album hard to get through?

Brandon Flowers.

I kind of appreciated his reedy-whiny rock singer who can’t really sing-style on “Hot Fuss,” but something really bad happened on “Sam’s Town.” And, because I am a reviewer, sitting in my dining room, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company as I listen and write, I am prone to a compulsive imagination replete with just the right amount of paranoia.

Oh, yeah, what happened on “Sam’s Town?” Um….Brandon Flowers can’t sing. And I don’t mean he can’t sing in a Jello Biafra, Henry Rollins, Craig Finn way where it’s kind of cool that they can’t sing. No, Flowers can’t sing. (this was backed up by his abysmal performance on SNL’s season opener this year)

He gets the image right. He changes costumes and style about as much as Adam Ant did, back in the day, and that’s just the right amount to be cool. But, even Adam knew better than to use tracks where his voice is so completely off key that it is distracting.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be unkind here. Flowers is a terrible singer. Two and a half minutes in on “For Reasons Unknown,” he hits some notes that float somewhere between flat and sharp and actually hurt my ears. Which doesn’t make ANY sense. We live in a world of vocal comping. No one turned to him and said, “Excuse me, Brandon? Mr. Flowers? Um….I think we should comp this cuz you’re really flat.”?

But, maybe you couldn’t. Maybe there’s an interesting story there that no one has uncovered. And this is where my paranoia comes into play.

Something seemed weird about the band on SNL. Something that, in retrospect, pervaded all the articles. The Killers are Brandon Flowers and Brandon Flowers is the Killers. These musicians, while very talented, are trapped in a band dependent on their lead singer. Like Stone Temple Pilots before them or, worse and more apropos, Styx. Flowers is the Dennis DeYoung of The Killers. The showmanship is there. The pomposity. The “concept” album,” everything.

Except.

Dennis DeYoung could sing. And if he was off key SOMEONE would have said, “Excuse me, Dennis? Um…..you are really flat here.” And he would have gone back in the booth and fixed it.

I want to be clear here. Flowers sometimes evokes that delicate quaver of a Jack White, whom you just expect to fall so far off-key into the abyss and yet, always manages to hold it together.

Brandon just goes sailing over the cliff into parts unlistenable.

So, “Sam’s Town” is a big, adventurous, blustery stab at stadium rock and as such, it fails. And that made me sad. But it was not totally unexpected. It is grand, especially in presentation: Introductory Overture (“Sam’s Town”), book ended faux-cabaret (“Enterlude” & “Exitlude”), songs that play more like scenes in a musical than a rock album. And I want to like that, in fact, I DO always appreciate when rockers draw fine the distinction between rock and roll and musical theater, but The Brandon Flowers Project is all cock of the walk and not enough meat on the bone.

Are we giving stars here? Okay, 3/5. It’s a good effort but make no bones about it, this is as far from “indie” rock as one can get. This album has a big machine behind it and that machine is expecting big big BIG sales. But when you name your album after a lesser known, off the beaten path tiny casino in a town where The Mirage and The Luxor rule, you might be letting your bosses know what not to expect.

Don’t expect much and you might enjoy “Sam’s Town.” If you are expecting greatness, download the singles and move right along.