Seriously though, read Alfred’s review, it’s fantastic…
[Video][Website]
[6.43]
Alfred Soto: My vision of The Killers demands Technicolor excess: men and women writing in the dust like Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones in Duel in the Sun. I give’em credit for interpolating Can, but Brandon Flowers must have sensed “Dying Breed” needed something other than cauliflower rice Springsteenisms.
[6]
Kayla Beardslee: My best friend is a huge fan of The Killers, so when I was walking around my neighborhood listening to their new album for the first time — appreciating the bright, soaring production, the wide mixing, and Brandon Flowers’ nod-and-smile lyrics — and I heard the beat of “Dying Breed” suddenly kick down the door two minutes in, of course I immediately fumbled for my phone, screenshotted the song and timestamp, and texted her my excitement. And of course she responded five minutes later, happy I was listening to the album and knowing exactly what I was referring to. Sure, “Caution,” “My Own Soul’s Warning,” and “Imploding the Mirage” bottle pure exuberance a little more successfully for me, but what more could I ask for from “Dying Breed” than that moment?
[8]
Katherine St Asaph: A little over half of this sounds like Brandon Flowers is possessed by Björn and Benny, the rest like he’s accompanied by a malnourished Thomas the Tank Engine. Scored accordingly.
[6]
Thomas Inskeep: It sounds like Brandon Flowers is singing to a click track for the first two minutes, and then “Dying Breed” breaks into yet another of The Killers’ patented Springsteen-via-New-Order fantasias. At no point does this grab me.
[3]
Alex Clifton: Classic Killers in all the right ways: bright synths, a hearty guitar line shot through at the right time, and resilience in the face of all life’s trials. Why rework the formula?
[7]
Scott Mildenhall: Why make a rock opera when you can thread the songs through your career for a ready-made jukebox musical? It remains forever us against the elements, the sometimes mystical, sometimes all-too-human elements, and if you feel it then you must dig in, because Wendy, you’re a star, with those butterflies to mine. As two bursts of distortion rumble against the ambivalently exultant finale, however, there’s a rare sense of conclusion: it’s as if a rocket is launching to finally extricate The Killers from the desert.
[7]
Juana Giaimo: In Alfred’s review of Imploding the Mirage, he talks about Brandon Flowers’ fanaticism for the bombastic and tacky ’80s. It sounds so different to today’s music trends (it’s not even the fun and danceable ’80s of Carly Rae Jepsen). The Killers couldn’t be further away from the minimalist production, hushed vocals and melodies influenced by hip-hop, and they seem to know it, because “Dying Breed” sounds incredibly nostalgic. It starts quiet, slowly grows until the chorus blows up and, as if that wasn’t enough, the bridge is even more grandiose, screaming of fireworks and melodrama. Brandon’s voice is suddenly desperate and lost, but of course, what keeps him on track are memories of the past — “Then I remember the promise I made”. Yes, he is ready to die, but it’ll be with glory.
[8]