Searching for completion in this 'Day & Age'

By: Alex McElroy

Posted: 12/5/08

The Killers
Day & Age
Four stars
Label: Island Recods
Check out: "A Dustland Fairytale," "Spaceman," "I Can't Stay"
Skip: "The World We Live In," "Joy Ride"

Just as Oasis is the gateway drug to britpop and weed is the gateway drug to, well, drugs, The Killers are the gateway drug to indie rock.

During my junior year of high school, I convinced my mom to buy me the Hot Fuss CD four weeks before Christmas. Obtaining the album may have been my greatest teenage achievement - take that loss of virginity! My mom follows Advent Calendars for some reason, like weird, single girls follow astrology, always reminding me "It's X days till Christmas, don't waste your money on that."

But back to that first CD. It took over my life. I left the shards of its packaging on the floor as I undressed it, walking to my alarm clock/CD player. I smiled like I meant it every successive replaying, assured that listening to a band many people hadn't heard of - at the time - made me cool. It did. From the first full listen, I was obsessed. I remember dancing with my eyes closed to "Somebody Told Me" and practicing Brandon Flowers's head tilt from the "Mr. Brightside" video. I Googled their history and called out girls who claimed, "The Killers are like totally my favorite band ever," by asking them their second favorite song beside Mr. Brightside. They'd stare at me, brains churning through the filth of Britney Spears lyrics until they concluded that they had no other favorites.

Overall, The Killers made me arrogant. But maybe that's why I love them; their growth mirrored mine. During my freshman year of college, their second album, Sam's Town, was released, and I couldn't get into it. Their rockier sound felt rushed, as if they too had chosen an unfitting situation - I transferred from my first college. But at the time, I didn't understand their motives and felt slightly betrayed, wondering why they couldn't be as they were when I was young, wishing they could read my mind and become the band I wanted them to be.

But now, with their third release - I don't count Sawdust - I'm happy to see they've settled in on a sound that fits. Sure, the lyrics don't make much sense - "Are we human/ Or are we dancers" - but that doesn't make them bad. Maybe Brandon Flowers wasn't meant to write touching ballads pertaining to real-life situations. It may have taken a few years, an album with a grittier feel and thousands of Top 40 fans for them to realize who they were, and I'm not about to blame them. I'm not going to ask Brandon Flowers to explain what he means when he says, "I saw the devil wrapping up his hands/ He's looking for a showdown," because, honestly, I don't want to know.

That could be The Killers' greatest strength: ambiguity. It allows their songs to take multiple meanings, with lyrics too dense to comprehend literally and beats too catchy to quit humming.

Day & Age is easily one of the most infuriating albums for my roommates. I've wasted hours mumbling semi-remembered lyrics while rhythmically tapping any flat surface within arm's length, oftentimes until they scream, "I don't care if Candy talks to strangers!"

But their greatness is what depresses me the most. I feel like we share a connection, but I know they're getting too popular for me. I'm like the prom date of the girl who blossoms in college. Sure, we still have a history, but we're losing any chance of a future because our past is so detailed. The Killers structured my final years of high school. On the mornings that I felt too morose to move, I'd play "Smile Like You Mean It" on the ride to school and everything would feel a little bit better.

I know it would be selfish to ask for those days back or to expect a band profiting from its popularity to shun its fans for my sake, but there're some things I'll always hope for, even if I know they'll never come true. But if I close my eyes and listen hard enough, the quirky lyrics and blips of synth found on Day & Age are enough to give me flashbacks and a broad smile.

Alex McElroy

diversions@dailybarometer.com