It’s easy to forget that The Killers hail from Las Vegas. The desert is undeniably in the band’s DNA (and album covers), but the heartland glam that Brandon Flowers and co. have made their trademark is placeless. That’s why hearing them do their thing — on a pleasant August evening in an amphitheater, say — is so revelatory. They play to the back row every time, with gleaming smiles and showmen talents.
Case in point: The Killers like to open festival sets with “Mr. Brightside.” This is not considered an industry best practice. Typically, artists save their biggest songs for the rousing finale to keep people at the gig. If they began already at level 10, there’s only one direction to go (down).
They didn’t do it at a sold-out CMAC show on August 2, but they could be forgiven for sticking to a more traditional concert playbook. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it — throwing caution only takes you so far. The actual opener, “My Own Soul’s Warning,” erupted like a sandstorm complete with confetti cannons and Flowers gleaming in a black suit studded with sparkling rebel-diamond pinstripes.
“We’re The Killers and we’re in the service industry,” he said by way of a welcome. “We heard you ordered a good time.”
Despite his passing resemblance to Tom Brady, Flowers is more of a Josh Allen: a lovable quarterback who will run the ball in himself when needed. (When they finally got around to “Mr. Brightside,” a song that’s been claimed by Buffalo Bills fans as a stadium sing-along, Flowers chimed: “Don’t tell anyone, but tonight, The Killers are Bills fans.) That’s how The Killers are a quarter-century into their existence and two greatest-hits LPs deep. Their seeming omnipresence allows them to tour without an album to support (the last one, “Pressure Machine,” was released in 2021) and pack a setlist with straight-up bangers.
But Flowers also channels 1990s Bono, and more accurately, mid-’80s Bruce Springsteen with more than a dash of “War of the Worlds” press tour-era Tom Cruise. To be clear, this is all meant highly complimentarily. His magnetism cannot be denied, and throughout a modern Killers concert, he maintains a base level of televangelist charm, working to get every pair of ears in tune with his message.
What’s he selling? Rock and roll salvation. After running through seminal hits “Somebody Told Me” and “Smile Like You Mean It,” the band entered a Springsteen suite via “Quiet Town” and “In the Car Outside.” By the time “All These Things That I’ve Done” (their best song) hit near the set’s climax, Flowers had gone full tent-revival preacher: stern face, marching, testifying. As they say, 15,000 live-music fans singing I got soul but I’m not a soldier can’t be wrong.
The Killers now have the budget and the gravitas to recast their earlier material with the bombast the songs used to reach for but never quite hit. “Read My Mind” particularly now plays like the masterful anthem it was always meant to be. There’s a nagging question behind all the wonder of witnessing a six-piece band (and three backing vocalists) breathe fire into indie-rock hits that are now 20 years old. What does a Killers show in 2025 mean?
For one, legacy insurance. Though opening band The Bends wasn’t actually an AI creation, it felt like a focus-grouped composite. The recent Louisiana State University grads have a name swiped from Radiohead, lead vocals lifted from Kings of Leon and sartorial choices that screamed Gen Z Arctic Monkeys — and no full-length debut album out yet.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who begins the show. The real opening act is the playlist of Killers singles played in the car en route to the show. The surprises during the set were few, though Flowers played bass during “For Reasons Unknown,” which momentarily made him a more exciting frontman — kind of like when Brad Pitt eats in his movies. A prop can create new opportunities.
Another highlight came with encore renditions of the “Sam’s Town” new wave banger “Bones,” and 2017’s swaggering “The Man,” which found The Killers as close to “Achtung Baby” as they’ve ever been.
When it came time for “Mr. Brightside,” the confetti cannons returned. But they didn’t rush into the song, instead opting for a slowed-down tease that gave the crowd an opportunity to get their phones ready. It felt a bit like a red carpet step-and-repeat, but isn’t every hit?
They subverted it. Subtly, they gave the people what they wanted, with a bit of a twist that let them do it their own way. And then they hit a familiar refrain: I got soul but I’m not a soldier, proving that the quintessential Killers song is a different one than stadium football fans decided it was. That kind of message plays better in the desert anyway.
Patrick Hosken is CITY’s arts reporter. He can be reached at patrick@rochester-citynews.com.
This article appears in Dec 1-31, 2024.
