BRANDON FLOWERS
Continued from page 22
last bit of hard-line dogma from his
upbringing. And the words of wisdom that
reverberated back to him in his 20s – which
were many – were the ones he deemed to
be true. Which essentially translates to:
You can run from basic human morality all
you want, or deny your own awareness of
right and wrong, but for only so long, if
you possess any measurable vestige of a
soul. Flowers agrees, wholeheartedly, with
the concept of questioning, not robotically
following any pre-ordained set of tenets.
"I definitely went through that in my
late teens," he says. "And I think a lot of
people go through that – it's healthy. And
what was good about that for me was,
when it was time for me to decide what
road I was going to go down, I think I had
more conviction because I had actually
questioned it and thought about it. I didn't
just go in blindly because my mom and
dad told me that there's a God – that's not
why I believe in God. I have my own testimony, and I think that I got stronger
because I asked questions and I went
through that. And I'm really happy that I
went through that phase. Growing up
being a Mormon in Las Vegas, I feel like
that definitely prepared me for being in a
tenings -- can also testify to the redemptive
power of big dreams and aspirations.
That's one truly obvious reference in his
work. "And I mean, that's all we've got,
you know?" he says, chuckling. "That was
what kept my dad going. My dad had this
sort of eternal sense of optimism. He'd be a
grump sometimes, but there was something just genuinely happy about him –
there was always something that he was
looking forward to or dreaming about, and
he made $20,000 a year, but he wasn't miserable. There was a…a happiness to him,
and I'm sure having a family was a big part
of it. But there was always something to
accomplish for him. And yeah – I believe in
it."
Flowers' mother was equally influential. She raised her children – not to stare
dumbly down at the path in front of them
– but to constantly look up with childlike
wonder at the world around them. She
urged them to view sunsets, and to study
cycles of the moon, so they would know
which phase it was in, seasonally. "And it's
a good way to look at life," he reckons. "I
was always that way, whether I was cognizant of it or not. And I think it's something that I've honed in on as I've gotten
older – my curiosity. I keep searching, and
that's what keeps me on my toes. And I
think that just by not giving in, and really
trying to stay true to who I was, I still go
The Killers circa 2014
band, and for going up against the excess
and the carrot that's dangled in front of me
a lot."
Thanks to Dawkins, the late
Christopher Hitchens, and even the otherwise-on-point Real Time HBO talk-show
host Bill Maher, it's quite hip to be atheist
these days. Especially when religion –
thanks to Islamic splinter sects like ISIS
and Boko Haram – are being horrifically
warped and twisted to suit their believers'
own violent, fundamentalist agendas. But
for most, something that provides daily
comfort – even a credo that simply gets
you through a difficult night – is nothing to
be sniffed at disdainfully. And certainly
nothing that preaches harm to any nonbelieving others, as variations of The
Golden Rule are intrinsic to most world
religions. "And a lot of people don't know
about Mormons – we believe in, and we
read, the Bible," Flowers says. "We have the
KJV – the King James Version of the Bible –
and the Book of Mormon, obviously. And
those are definitely touchstones, the foundations, and the things that I go back to.
But it's less about what you read and more
about the experiences that I had, gaining
that testimony."
The vocalist – who never once preaches, but cleverly couches his thoughts in
neighborly, universal wordplay that doesn't easily reveal itself, even on repeated lis-
24 illinoisentertainer.com may
2015
into every record the same as I did that
first one (Hot Fuss in 2004, with breakthrough, New Wave-retro singles "Mr.
Brightside" and "Somebody Told Me").
And I still feel genuinely excited about
writing a song that I haven't written
before. So I guess that I'm still not that far
removed from that 20-year-old trying to
make it, or whatever I was trying to do."
The Nevadan found solace in other
sources, as well, like the desert itself. "It
can be a holy place, and it can definitely be
a real sinister place," he says. But he regularly hops into his car and drives out into it
for answers. "And my wife knows when
it's time – when I start getting into a certain
mood, it's time for me to go out there. And
it's something that I found I'm really grateful [for] as I've gotten older – how much I
love it, how much I started going on different hikes and getting out there more.
Whether I'm by myself or with a group, I
feel really rejuvenated afterward – it's a
real he [\