Killers, The
Day & Age

THE REVIEW

It seems that the Killers, after having explored the American heartland with the previous Sam's Town, have reversed course, or perhaps they have definitively embarked on a journey to shoot among the stars. As they have said, Day & Age is a kind of Sam's Town from Mars, and listening to it reveals the reasoning behind this statement. In fact, the album presents itself as a sort of delightful psychedelic trip, with catchy melodies, electronic wonders, and funny and carefree lyrics even when they should be serious.

In general, the sound of the album seems largely inspired by the '80s, with the massive use of keyboards as well as numerous more or less veiled citations. It starts with Losing touch, whose intro seems to somewhat recall Cities in Dust by Siouxsie and the Banshees, with a xylophone that will return in more than one song. The track then continues with a smooth and pleasant melody, typical of this group, outlining the sounds that will come to life later. Human, the launching single, reveals the gray eminence behind this album, namely the producer Stuart Price, already a highly successful collaborator with Madonna on Confessions on a Dance Floor. Indeed, the synthesizers and rhythm of this song seem to wink a bit at some tracks from the aforementioned album, such as Get Together and Hung Up. 

 Joy Ride is a pure exercise in style, a way like any other to flaunt one's virtuosity. A indulgent text perfectly associates with a disco music rhythm, picking up some experiments by Franz Ferdinand in that direction, such as Outsiders from their second album. Furthermore, cheerful South American percussion makes an appearance. The Latin atmosphere returns more than once on this album, indeed, especially in the form of Mexican trumpets in the relaxing I can't stay, a sure allusion to the myth that Americans have of Mexico as a land of revelry and nighttime escapes.

The more strictly '80s atmosphere is felt in tracks like Spaceman, with a very sustained and driving rhythm, and This is Your Life, whose use of the male chorus somewhat recalls Starship Troupers by ABBA. And what about The World We Live In, an anthology ballad, which would have concluded the album excellently if Good Night, Travel Well didn’t do so in a far more admirable manner. It should be a serious song, talking about death, but the sonic patina covering it forces us to receive it with a certain detachment. Note also the presence of symphonic elements, which provide the track with considerable pathos. It is probably the highest point of the album, along with A Dustland Fairytale, a track that seems to amalgamate American Pie by Don McLean with a glittering, fairy-like adolescent haze. 

In conclusion, I can only express my pleasure in having listened to this album. Compared to Sam's Town, which I also appreciated very much, it is more complete and also bolder. It might be somewhat indigestible to some for its overly slick and vain tone, but after all, this is the trademark of the Killers, a band raised in the shadow of the casinos of Las Vegas, the most frivolous city in the world.