The Killers : Mr Brightside
How about a pock-marked, teenage U2 suddenly realising what an awesome racket they could make?...
If you will, the flipside to The Strokes. The Killers steal so smartly, and with such mind-boggling variety, that the demand the most surreal references. How about a pock-marked, teenage U2 suddenly realising what an awesome racket they could make? The coked-up Manhattan wank-fantasies of a ‘Queen Bitch’-era Bowie? The aching, pre-teen yearn of Hot Chocolate’s ‘It Started With A Kiss’ and the hollow-eyed disdain of prime Psychedelic Furs? Whatever, ‘Mr Brightside’ sounds as massive and magnificent as impossibly filthy, drugged-up sex with strangers. ‘Destiny is calling’, sings the ridiculously named Brandon Flowers – the sort of handle that would get you a sharp smack in the bollocks round my way – and you can’t help but think it probably is. Ambition, sex, noise; no filler, these Killers.
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