Spring Break
Searching for completion in this 'Day & Age'
Alex McElroy
Issue date: 12/5/08 Section: Diversions
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
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
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