10 Years Later - Side 1 of Hot Fuss

Meet someone born between 1987 and 1991, and chances are The Killers 2004 debut Hot Fuss holds some kind of emotional significance for them. That group was in middle school and high school when Hot Fuss was released 10 years ago in June 2004.  (I would argue that those of us in the class of 2008 have the largest claim to Hot Fuss inspired emotional resonance, since we were preparing to enter ninth grade - deep in the throes of puberty and mid-2000's emo.)

The Killers - Hot Fuss - June 15, 2004

However, talking about Hot Fuss isn't really talking about Hot Fuss. We're really only talking about side 1 of Hot Fuss, those magical first five tracks that swept in, grabbed hold of our hearts, and refused to let go until we admitted that, yeah, sometimes we like to feel things. (It should here be noted that I'm referring to side 1 as the natural first half of the album, tracks 1-5. LP versions of Hot Fuss include "Andy You're a Star" on side 1, but the less said about that disaster the better.)

"Jenny Was a Friend of Mine," with that bass line, let us live out the lovers' quarrels we always fantasized about. "Jenny" is dark and murderous without ever being bogged down in regret. The verses hang on the 6-5-4 progression, giving the track a nervous energy that doesn't resolve until midway through the chorus, when Flowers finally says his lover's name.

"Mr. Brightside", the band's best song, gives me goosebumps to this day. It really shouldn't be all that great. It only has 140 words of lyrics, and the song just repeats itself twice! But that guitar lick, that descending bass, that frantic hi-hat. "Brightside" has you hooked before Brandon Flowers starts on about his cage. The bridge is devastating with only two words. Jealousy never sounded so good. I still crank up the radio when this comes on.

"Smile Like You Mean It" is a breath after the rush of "Mr. Brightside." The soaring synthesizer lick from Flowers is a wonderful throwback to The Killers new wave influences. "Smile" is musically upbeat, even if the lyrics are wistfully what-might-have-been, and is the most "summer-y" cut of the bunch, begging to be played loud with the windows down.

"Somebody Told Me" is the most explicitly new wave song on the record. The muted guitar strums build tension in the verses, leading to that infectiously tongue-in-cheek chorus. "A boyfriend who looks like a girlfriend I had in February of last year" is a ridiculous line and would come off as contrived if not for the utter lack of pretense in Flowers' voice. "Somebody" is an obvious singalong, and bouncing bass and disco drums ensure that it is worthy of a good white boy dance, too.

"All These Things That I've Done" is the last song of side 1 and arguably their biggest song. When I saw The Killers my freshman year of college, this song filled the arena more than anything else they played. "All These Things That I've Done" is made to be played along with thousands of people.  "Time - Truth - Hearts" filled the back screens, and the entire Erwin Center crowd joined in a very extended building singalong of "I've got soul/But I'm not a soldier." It was beautiful.

Side 1 of Hot Fuss is a powerhouse of heart-on-sleeve, unashamedly sensitive, synth-powered indie rock. The Killers on Hot Fuss were a band that dared to admit that feeling things might just be a good thing, from paranoid jealousy to sunny hopefulness. The band is often grouped with the second wave of post punk revival bands that came of age in the mid-2000s, but that their music often steered into optimism separated them from their peers, bands like Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys, and Kings of Leon.

"All These Things" was also basically the transition into the rest of The Killers' career, as they ditched the synthesizers and pivoted into more straightforward arena rock on Sam's Town, Day & Age, and especially their most recent LP Battle Born. None of those are necessarily bad albums, but the problem with the first five songs on your first album being the best five songs in your catalogue is never living up to how you started.

And that's OK. People my age will always have side 1 of Hot Fuss as a universal shared experience from a very particular time in our lives. Growing up in the mid-2000s was a strange experience. We were firmly in the Internet age, but social media hadn't fully taken over yet; we all had cell phones, but we still memorized numbers; we had MySpaces AND Xangas. We didn't know that it was super lame to care about stuff, but we didn't think that anyone else cared about stuff like we did.

2004 was a spectacular year for music. Funeral, The College Dropout, Good News For People Who Love Bad News, Seven Swans, Mmhmm, and Antics were all released that year. But something about Hot Fuss was special. Something about that album crossed boundaries, broke down barriers, and taught a whole generation of young people that it was ok to be sincere, to wear our hearts on our sleeves, to admit that we were jealous, to admit that we needed help, and to admit to looking toward the future. Hot Fuss, even after 10 years, holds up better than any other album from that transcendent year because those themes are universal and timeless. The Killers will keep selling out arenas because of the kids who listened to Hot Fuss.

Or at least, the kids who listened to side 1.