Hitmen

But then again, he might simply be tired. The band has been touring for about a year and a half and will continue throughout the summer. "I can't wait to be done," he says. Some people have complained about the band's short set — it clocks in at just about an hour — but the guys are reluctant to play too many new songs, and they don't feel polished enough to pull off the few covers (by Kenny Rogers and Morrissey) they know.

Then there's the microcontroversy surrounding the feud between the Killers and similar-sounding New York throwback band the Bravery. Flowers started the fight, telling MTV, "They're signed because we're a band," and uncharitably making reference to the fact that Bravery frontman Sam Endicott previously fronted a ska band called Skabba the Hut. Endicott responded on a San Francisco radio station, comparing Flowers to "a little girl." The bands are labelmates and are both represented by William Morris; a source close to the Killers sighs deeply at the mention of the feud but insists it has been quashed.

Still, it seems odd for a band like the Killers to start a fight about "authenticity." Flowers, after all, is very aware that he has created an image. "I didn't come out of the womb like this," he says, gesturing at himself. "When we signed with Island, we said, 'We want to be successful.' But we still want credibility. You don't want to lose the kids."

The band is looking forward to opening three dates for U2 in Europe. "The Beatles were the best, but they broke up after, like, six years," Flowers says. "U2, it's been the same four guys, and they've never put out a shitty album. What other band can you say that about? The Stones have put out some shitty albums."

A kid in a Ramones T-shirt and a stylish mohawk — he turns out to be a fan who begged to be allowed backstage — wanders over and interrupts in a tone that's both fawning and vaguely hostile.

"Hey, Brandon, you're a Mormon, right? My girlfriend's a Krishna, and I want to become a Mormon so I can have a bunch of wives. You think that'd be cool?"

Flowers makes minimal eye contact with the kid and, smiling nervously, mumbles, "Yeah, Krishnas and Mormons are so similar."

"Hey, Brandon," the kid continues, "how many wives do you have?"

"That's funny," Flowers says, not looking at the kid at all. "Except polygamy ended about a hundred and fifty years ago."

"We're gonna rage Mormon-style!" the kid shouts. "What about Brigham Young? No matter how young, you bring 'em, right?!"

Flowers' face is frozen in a smile. "What were we talking about?" he asks me.

Soon, though, the band has piled into a van, en route to a weekly New York retro dance party called Misshapes, and Flowers seems more relaxed, other than the fact that he's rolling an unlit cigarette back and forth in his palm. (He doesn't like to smoke until he's had a drink, so he's waiting until we arrive at the club.) "I saw Phantom of the Opera last time we were here," he says as we pass the marquee. "So good. Andrew Lloyd Webber could have written rock hits." Then, as if the thought has just occurred to him, he blurts out, "I want to be the Phantom! Maybe when I'm, like, thirty. I can't do it now. I'd need to take voice lessons."

"Donny Osmond did Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for seven years," Boswell says from the front of the van.

"I don't want to do it for seven years," Flowers says. "But I'd do it for a month."

The Misshapes party is packed and sweaty. A seven-foot-tall transvestite is standing outside, as is the kid in the Ramones T-shirt, who is denied entry. Flowers is eventually lured into the DJ booth. He bobs his head to "Need You Tonight," by INXS, though when one of the other DJs plays Britney Spears' "Toxic," he exits to grab a drink, quickly disassociating himself from the choice.

However flamboyant many of his icons may be, Flowers, at heart, is all about sincerity. Earlier, we spoke about the similarities between Bruce Springsteen and U2. Flowers says he recently figured out how to play "Thunder Road" on the piano. "That song has my favorite line," he says, shaking his head with a sheepish grin. "I'm such a sucker. It's 'Hey, what else can we do now except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair/Well, the night's busting open, these two lanes will take us anywhere.' I'm one of those people who really rolls down the window at that point!" He shakes his head again. "Springsteen, U2 — it's hard to pull off something that big and sincere without being corny. But they do it. I was talking to Simon Le Bon once, and he said — I think he was quoting someone else, but it's true — 'There's a fine line between charisma and bullshit.' That's what I'm trying to figure out."

[From Issue 977/978 — June 30, 2005]