The humble indie discotheque, back in the early nineties, were dramatically different to the thousands that clog up every city centre currently. For a start, the cliental were a lot moodier, didn’t give a toss if the night was hosted in an office block and the DJ used physical vinyl instead of simply pressing play on a pre arranged Spotify list.
Now, these places are where trendy bell-ends go each week, take thousands of badly shot photos and pose in wacky positions to put on Facebook. Even the music doesn’t come as a surprise as they’ll be a retro segment, so-called “rave” selection, contemporary classics and songs illegally downloaded two hours before the laptop DJ’s set.
The Killers seem to unite everyone in unison. Couples snog over their so called “love song” and daft girls cry because of their worrying amounts of lust for Brandon Flowers – he’s the man who broke away from The Killers to make this solo album.
And we’ve listened to it, mainly so you don’t have to.
Look at the picture. Really look at it, drink it in. Go on, keep looking. 
