 The Killers Crackin' single from a band I'm sure the indie press will be quick to villify for being "fake" or "sellouts" or "whatever," while insisting that some shit like !!! or TV on the Radio is even remotely worth my time. You know what, anymore, just load me up with catchy hooks and douse me in debonair, because substance never got me nowhere, but style is style. The Killers present a fundamental quandary for the folks who are creaming their jeans over Franz Ferdinand: they're recognizably shallower, but they're easily as enjoyable. The sound is throwback-80s-modern-rock in the vein of Interpol, but with much more Duran Duran swagger to it. Is it somehow not okay for a band to trendily rip off Duran Duran and still be credible? Keep in mind, Duran Duran were once dismissed as trendy rip-off artists themselves. Trends evaporate into the ether of nostalgia. In the end, all that matters is the songs anyone left behind. And these songs kick ass. The title track is a l'il Cure, a l'il Psychedelic Furs, a l'il Interpol, quite a bit of DD … ingenious by no means, but fucking good by all means. Even better is the b-side, "The Ballad of Michael Valentine," which starts off like Morrissey's "Ouija Board, Ouija Board" and proceeds to knock The Strokes on their skinny asses with a terrifically confident and simple melody and some gigantic Oasis-style guitars. Frankly, I like it better than most of the shit it rips off. I could do without the distorted vocals at this point, though … let Julian Casablancas take that with him to his eventual nursing-home-circuit Indie Vaudeville show. The CD version adds another b-side, "Under the Gun," which is more of the same … the 7-inch is pink vinyl, though! This phase of the 80s resurgence is hitting all the right buttons for me. The Killers will probably be dismissed as "unserious" (a la the unfairly neglected Dandy Warhols), but anyone who doesn't at least secretly admit that it's tasty as Cheryl Tiegs's be-Revloned lips is simply scared of letting go. Fuck all that and get your ass out on the floor, already!
Review by Timothy Hay |