I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with this band. When Hot Fuss came out in 2004 and slowly climbed the charts on the strength of its great singles, my faith in record-buyers was somewhat restored. Here was a band with talent, ambition and a sound that, while biting ‘80s synth-pop, was all their own at the time. To boot, they were selling enough records to rival the familiar pop, rap and country acts that tended to dominate the top spots.
I even remember seeing the band’s video for “Somebody Told Me” late at night on MTV2 before their debut even made a ripple (let alone a wave) and thinking “this band is going to be big.” Sure enough, four years and two other albums later, they are among the best-selling American groups and one of the bigger concert draws, counting both hipster elitists and TRL junkies as fans.
It comes as no surprise to me. They are a band of gifted songwriters and fine musicians. The production on their records is top notch and they seem to hold themselves to a high standard.
However, their shtick is becoming tiresome. With Sam’s Town, their second album, the band relied heavily on the epic grandeur of Springsteen’s open-road ballad sound. Though the release took them from the club to the arena, its derivative material did little to set them apart and make an original statement.
Their new LP, Day and Age, is another cut-and-paste exercise in style-biting. Perhaps an homage to the cheesy adult-contemporary sound of another (dare I say) Day and Age, it’s layered with synthesized grooves, tacky saxophone accents and more overdubbed tracks than a bustling rail terminal. The result is an over-the-top album that, while populated with catchy tunes, recalls a sound that was left to die decades ago and makes another weak case for the band’s originality.
As if their music’s overt sentimentality (now beginning to feel contrived) wasn’t enough, frontman Brandon Flowers’ ego is inflating. In the press, he is often quoted saying things like ‘my band is the voice of a generation,’ ‘we’re awesome,’ and so on. This point though, is moot. I don’t want to judge a band’s music by the people who make it—I’d rather let it speak for itself.
Either way, it’s speaking loudly and it’s telling me that it’s drowning in self-indulgence.
I even remember seeing the band’s video for “Somebody Told Me” late at night on MTV2 before their debut even made a ripple (let alone a wave) and thinking “this band is going to be big.” Sure enough, four years and two other albums later, they are among the best-selling American groups and one of the bigger concert draws, counting both hipster elitists and TRL junkies as fans.
It comes as no surprise to me. They are a band of gifted songwriters and fine musicians. The production on their records is top notch and they seem to hold themselves to a high standard.
However, their shtick is becoming tiresome. With Sam’s Town, their second album, the band relied heavily on the epic grandeur of Springsteen’s open-road ballad sound. Though the release took them from the club to the arena, its derivative material did little to set them apart and make an original statement.
Their new LP, Day and Age, is another cut-and-paste exercise in style-biting. Perhaps an homage to the cheesy adult-contemporary sound of another (dare I say) Day and Age, it’s layered with synthesized grooves, tacky saxophone accents and more overdubbed tracks than a bustling rail terminal. The result is an over-the-top album that, while populated with catchy tunes, recalls a sound that was left to die decades ago and makes another weak case for the band’s originality.
As if their music’s overt sentimentality (now beginning to feel contrived) wasn’t enough, frontman Brandon Flowers’ ego is inflating. In the press, he is often quoted saying things like ‘my band is the voice of a generation,’ ‘we’re awesome,’ and so on. This point though, is moot. I don’t want to judge a band’s music by the people who make it—I’d rather let it speak for itself.
Either way, it’s speaking loudly and it’s telling me that it’s drowning in self-indulgence.
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