I was vaguely aware The Killers had a new album out, but it wasn’t pinging too brightly on my radar.  Aside from the first single, I had been by and large disappointed by their sophomore effort, Sam’s Town.  I understand the need for a band to grow their sound and explore new territory musically, but the direction of the album just didn’t resonate with me.  The Killers’ appeal was in their edgy dance-influenced rock sound, and such a dramatic departure left me feeling a bit bereft.

What sealed the deal on my apathy for the Killers was their performance at Edgefest 16 in Dallas, TX (aside: one of the greatest concert lineups I’ve ever witnessed).   For me, the live show is always the ultimate for a band– it will make or break me as a fan.  Bands whose recorded material has me incredibly exicted are bands I want to see live, so I can fully fall in love with them.  The Killers, despite my feelings about Sam’s Town, were on the list of such bands.  I felt a great live show that reminded me why I loved them circa Hot Fuss could trump the Sam’s Town ambivalence and cement me as a true Killers fan.

Thus, I was thrilled to see them at the top of an already packed bill for Edgefest, which took place in April 2007.  The energy of the festival built through the day, with kinetic main stage acts such as AFI, Muse, and My Chemical Romance.  However, many people began to leave before The Killers even came on (no doubt owing to the long delay before they hit the stage), but even as they played, people continued to leave.  I can’t necessarily guess what drove every person out of the stadium, but I know I heard more than one person comment that they were simply bored by The Killers’ sound, especially following bands with such dynamic sounds and stage presence.  I felt the same; it wasn’t that The Killers were bad, or even unenjoyable– they just didn’t fit.  Their set for me wasn’t fun, exciting, heart-pounding, or provocative.  Because of that, I count The Killers as one of my biggest live music disappointments.  My Edgefest experience is representative of my feelings for The Killers’ music in general up to this point:bored and disappointed.

That is, until the video for their new single, “Human,” was played at my moonlight job (where I bartend at a bowling alley that has a weekend glow bowl where they play music videos on projector screens).  Of course, Brandon Flowers’ voice is unmistakable, and the return of the beloved dance-beat edge to The Killers’ sound captured my immediate and whole attention.

My customers were forced to wait for several minutes while I absorbed with glee Flowers’ now-smooth face, the relative lack of Old West garb on the band, the campy playfulness that was there during the Sam’s Town era but overwhelmed by the rest of the retro schtick…  I returned to mixing drinks while bobbing my head and humming along.  The sound had immediately captured my attention again, and I couldn’t get the tune out of my head.

I came home to watch the video again and listen to the lyrics more closely.  To my delight, Flowers and company have managed to combine the vocal and lyrical maturity of Sam’s Town with the provocative rock/dance sound of Hot Fuss to create a sound they can really own, something current and fresh that has an enduring quality to it.  Part of what made Sam’s Town so difficult to listen to for me was that it sounded dated the moment the CD hit my computer to be ripped.  I can see myself enjoying “Human” far into the future.  I’m looking forward to listening to their new album, Day & Age, when it’s released on November 24, to see if they’ve fulfilled the promise of “Human.”

And perhaps even more telling, I’m eager to see The Killers live once more.

Last week I had the opportunity to catch the debut of the Smashing Pumpkins documentary If All Goes Wrong, chronicling the newly reformed band’s residencies in Asheville, NC and San Francisco. The film is a combination of live concert DVD and “Behind The Music” sort of expose, combined in an engaging fashion.

The most interesting aspect of the movie is that aside from one memorable exception, no Pumpkins “classics” are featured.  Every featured song is new–most of them written the day they were recorded.  The focus of the film is Billy Corgan’s obsessive, relentless creativity, shown as an all-consuming force that pushes him and, therefore, the rest of his band.  Accompanying the three-hour residency shows are grueling marathon rehearsals that strain the Pumpkins’ three neophyte members, all experienced musicians who seem to barely weather the onslaught of Corgan’s prolific songwriting and perfectionism.

The intimacy of the film shows how Corgan uses his creative process as a wall between a world that seems to overwhelm and threaten him on a regular basis.   He admits that a childhood of abuse has left him struggling with boundaries. Nowhere is that more evident than the myriad awkward and uncomfortable interactions with fans, the interviewer and even his own bandmates that the movie unflinchingly captures.

Longtime drummer Jimmy Chamberlin is one of the few immune to Corgan’s mercurial nature.  Chamberlin himself has come a long way from the hard-partying drug addict from the Pumpkins’ past, something Corgan touches on as well.  It seems that everyone from the “original” Pumpkins has moved on, yet Corgan is trapped by his own hyperactive mind and its demons that couldn’t be properly exorcised by a solo career or his failed band Zwan–only through the guise of the Pumpkins.

It’s obvious that Corgan believes this course his only option.  It wasn’t his choice to reform the Pumpkins, replacing guitarist James Iha and bassist D’Arcy.  It had to be done, likewise the extensive residencies that seem to blend together as the film progresses.  As one undertaking a journey of Herculean proportions, Corgan stubbornly pushes through the tasks that present themselves in order to to mold these diverse musicians into a cohesive unit to actualize his visions.

Corgan meets his challenges with alternating zen and fury.  He blows off harsh words from critics, but becomes so frustrated when he forgets earlier-improvised lyrics that he throws his guitar across the room.  He is alternately bemused and insulted by the mixed reactions of the audiences to his new songs, some of which stretch on past the half-hour mark.  He becomes petulant at times when the interviewer touches sensitive subjects, then flippantly shrugs off his discomfort.

As the pressure to match the public’s expectations as well as his own grows, Corgan sinks so far into himself that he neglects the interpersonal relationships that are the glue of any band.  It is only when his new bandmates, who are still trying to find their own voices in this maelstrom, have their own breakdowns that Corgan begins to realize that that unless something gives, the new Pumpkins could come apart before it even fully gets off the ground.

After Corgan takes the stage for the final encore of their residency, there seems to be a hint of a promise that he might finally be able to move on , as his fellow Pumpkins had over eight years ago.

Corgan’s songwriting process is an effective narrative thread to tell the larger story of the “new” Pumpkins.  The multi-angle, split-screen shots are artful and not distracting, and there is just the right balance of performance footage and interview.  While the movie was naturally “Billy-centric,” I felt the other members of the band were adequately represented.  In the end, as ever, the Pumpkins are the story of Billy Corgan marshaling those he has drawn to him in order to realize his vision, and If All Goes Wrong succeeds in illustrating that point, in all its light and dark.

The Pumpkins have several teaser clips available on YouTube, but if you don’t need the hard sell, If All Goes Wrong is now available for you to own, so go pick it up!