By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
In September 2003 Braden Merrick was an A&R consultant for Warner Bros., responsible for identifying talent in eleven states on the West Coast. Thanks to a contact in Vegas, he saw the Killers' name on a Website that spotlighted up-and-coming local acts. He expected a much different sound than their simple, New Wave-style British-influenced rock.
"I thought it was an Iron Maiden tribute or something," Merrick says. "I listened to a demo, which was an early version of 'Mr. Brightside,' and thought it was great."
But it wasn't until January 2004, after driving from San Francisco to watch them perform in Las Vegas, that Merrick decided he wanted to manage them. Their first step was to record a proper demo. At Merrick's suggestion the band flew to San Francisco to record with Jeff Saltzman, Green Day's former manager. In four days they laid down seven tracks, three of which made the final cut: "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine," "On Top," and "Mr. Brightside." It was then, Merrick says, that he understood the band's full potential.
"When we listened to those demos after they had been rearranged and whatnot, we all looked around and smiled and just knew it," he says. "We had this feeling it was going to be fucking massive."
Unfortunately labels didn't share the feeling. Although the EP and Merrick's relationship with Warner earned the band a private showcase in front of label brass, Warner ultimately passed on the band. It was a process that would repeat many times over in the coming months. Ironically it was their first brush with rejection that may have played the most vital role in the band's later success.
"A month earlier at South by Southwest, I met Alex Gilbert from 14th Floor Recordings in England, the label owned by Damien Rice," Merrick says. "I gave him the Killers' demo during the conference. He happened to be in Los Angeles when he heard the Killers were doing a showcase [for Warner] and asked if he could get in. My boss said no, because it was a showcase meant for our label only. But he kept pestering me, so I snuck him in. He was really impressed, and when he got back to England, he passed along the demo to Ben Durling [an A&R rep for Lizard King records]."
While everyone was enthused about the band's music, there was far less certainty about the band's commercial prospects. According to Dom Hardisty, owner of Lizard King, it wasn't until the Killers played London that those fears disappeared. "We absolutely loved [the EP], but we thought it might actually bankrupt the company," Hardisty says. "They played four London dates, and the number of people at each show doubled every night simply through word of mouth. We had done no marketing whatsoever. We knew that every single person who'd gone to see this band had told all their friends. From that point on it was simply about maintaining that momentum."
The band members themselves never doubted their potential. "When I asked [Brandon] about what kind of band he wanted [the Killers] to be, he always gave the same answer," Hardisty says. "öWe're the next U2. We're going to do twenty albums, and we're still going to be touring in 30 years' time.' I think deep, deep down, he's always believed he's a star."
Sarah Lewitinn, a renowned blogger and owner of the indie label Stolen Transmission, championed the band early on. She recalls Flowers's confidence with some amusement: "I was writing for Spin at the time, and I did a öNext Big Thing' on the band. [In the piece] I called him a fallen Mormon. He called me up and said, öMy mom's going to kill me if she sees that. I can't show it to her, but thanks for writing about us.' I apologized and he said, öIt's okay. I'll just wait to show her [our] next article in Spin. '"
The band's hubris was apparent when it opened for Stellastarr* on its first nationwide tour. As the first act on a three-band bill, during an Atlanta show, the Killers played to only a handful of people at the now-defunct Cotton Club. As far as they were concerned, though, they might as well have been the headline act at Madison Square Garden. With amps cranked to maximum volume and Flowers caked in makeup, the band robotically gyrated to future hits like "Somebody Told Me" and "Mr. Brightside" in hilarious fashion. It was a preposterous display of conviction, even if it seems oddly prescient in retrospect. "Sometimes there's a thin line between madness and self-belief," Hardisty says.
Maybe the real lesson of the Killers' ascendance is that it helps to have a little bit of both.