Day & age

If Sam's Town was The Killers' sprawling, bloated attempt at epic-rock Americana, then Day & Age is their slimmer, glossier attempt at becoming the biggest rock band in America. The production here is as bright and expensive as your harmless Top 40 record in what can only be an attempt to disguise weak songwriting and careless melodies coming from what's been, until now, a surprisingly talented band. Flowers coughs up the iconic images sans meaning that his audience has been confused by in the past, but it's the lack of commitment in his delivery that holds many of the lines back. Even the most awkward of all lyrics, "are we human, or are we dancer," which could only be saved by sincere conviction, sounds like even he doesn't know what he's talking about. Spaceman is at least a fun song to sing along with -- despite the narrative -- and Joyride has its moments of pounding rock that hipsters will either love or hate. It's going to be hard to listen to this record again a year from now, as the shine of these songs fades faster than a cheap shoeshine.