Imagine a dark London alley where passionate strangers meet. Or the backroom of a glamorous club, cocaine heaped high. It is the late ‘70’s or early ‘80’s. Two pop icons, one glam and one goth, find each other across the abyss of circumstance. They embrace. There is no conversation, no eye contact, no violins (except for synth violins). Robert finds his cure, Freddie his queen. Bereft of uteruses both, they lay the tiny, still unformed offspring of their union in a cabbage patch. And then they part forever. The flowers name the orphan “Brandon.”
»continue reading The Killers at The Wiltern (or, The Untold Story of Brandon Flowers)

I went to this show innocent as a babe, meaning I had not even heard the album before I went. (You may now decide to distrust this author completely) Like many, I was wondering if these three guys were just going to be acting as Jack White’s back-up band. In fact, I was charmed to see a true partnership, though it’s easy to pick out the separate contributions of Jack and his friend Brendan Benson to what is clearly a stir fry, not a melting pot. (By the way, Mr. Benson really needs to follow Jack’s example here—marry somebody and get a proper rock-n-roll handle) But these two support one another’s compositions and performances with equal gusto. I loved hearing Jack in a supporting role: very engaging call-and-response routine between him and Brendan (smooth call, screechy response). Brendan is clearly the straight man to Jack’s wailing fool. When they were in singer and lead guitar mode, they were sometimes channeling Page and Plant, but once or twice I was picking up Coverdale and Vai (yes, his guitar could really talk).
»continue reading The Raconteurs @ The Wiltern, July 20