Prophet of Rock

I've been trying not to do two entertainment posts in a row, but last night I had a hawk-eyed vision of things to come. In a couple weeks the Killers play Spokane. Lions will lie down with Lambs.

When the Killers play the Big Easy, expect a sharply divided crowd. On one side, drinking heavily, men with large-striped shirts and white hats facing backward will be moving their hips just enough to intimate movement without spilling their bull blasters. This courtship ritual will attract women wearing Stefani and Abercrombie on their bodies and something European over their eyes [Coco Chanel, Gucci]. Dressed like teens, the minimal beige gradient of their sunglasses will not hide their crows feet. The garter minis and strappy lace tanks will not hide their cesarean scars.

They will look to be having the best time of their lives.

On the other side will be lots of diminutive figures. Black hair on black hooded sweatshirts on black Dickies, shooting furtive glances around the room, hands in pockets. They'll probably only be visible when a drum kick triggers a spray of flame from the pyrotechnics cannon Clear Channel insisted the Killers use to cater to the guys in the stripes. They'll be sipping dark beers, huddled in enclaves, discussing things. Ideas. They will cling rigidly to a hierarchy built on the brand of cigarettes they smoke. No one will talk to the kid with the Marbs.

They will look vaguely dissatisfied.

I haven't decided which I'm going as.

The Killers are the kind of band to inspire exactly this kind of following in our area. Possessing the marketing clout to have had some mainstream radio time, they appeal to people who listen to Top 40 stations. Weird but kinda cool. Between 50 Cent and Kelly Clarkson, The Killers are a novel drive time interlude.

The Killers appeal also to area kids who wouldn't be caught dead listening to the radio--unless it's KEXP in streaming audio from the website--because they have a little of that post-punk, new-wave vibe, which translates loosely into indie cred. People know that, barring a second round for the Pixies reunion, a little cred is all the Inland Northwest is likely to see. These people, for some reason, haven't moved to Portland yet.

When Modest Mouse, probably the most inclusive show-bookers in the world, skips your region to play Billings and Sioux Falls, you have to know times are rough. Though it boasts a healthy local scene, our Inland Empire doesn't get much ultra-hip seeping in from outside.

Point being: at least it's somebody.

And it may turn out that their strange polarity will make for an interesting show. The Killers' arena-ized take on bands like Interpol and Franz Ferdinand hint that, even if their album didn't affect you, their show might.

[a shortened version will appear in this week's Reader]