SONG: "Believe Me Natalie" - The Killers (Hot Fuss, 2004)

So by now we’ve all got a copy of Hot Fuss, the debut album by Las Vegas Shed Seven soundalikes The Killers. We all love Mr. Brightside and All These Things That I’ve Done, two of the greatest indie singalongs of the last ten years. Buried towards the end of the album though there’s this little-known and often-overlooked gem. Most people won’t really have bothered paying much attention to it as it isn’t as much of an immediate singalong as any of the singles or even its predecessor, the soaring Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll.

Part of what distinguishes the band from most of their mainstream indie contemporaries is the genuine sense of warmth and passion they bring to their androgy-glam schtick: what could so easily lapse into depthless imitation is redeemed by the sense that the band really do mean what they’re singing. Indeed, for all his arrogant posturing and sharp-dressed pretty-boy status, Brandon Flowers has a heart; he knows how to whip up a rousing anthem and he knows how to craft a good character song. While he may indeed not be much of a soldier, he has got soul, and for me that goes a long way.

The other quality that marks them out from the pack is their tight reign over their own aesthetic. As evidenced on the jumpy, Depeche Mode-esque disco stomper Somebody Told Me, The Killers do a fine line in seedy backstreet tales which casually subvert the norms of gender and sexuality. Flowers’ tales of Las Vegas life aren’t of high rollers and names in lights; they’re of a wide-eyed, cocky young buck standing in the gutter gazing up at the stars while all around him hookers and drag queens canvass for business. There’s something inherently romantic though about the way he’s able to filter these visions through his own naively optimistic perspective to create something genuinely uplifting even in its darkest incarnation; though the eyeliner may often be smeared, there’s still hope there.

Believe Me Natalie works because it taps very specifically into this bittersweet milieu of broken dreams and time running out on the possibilities of youth, with Flowers presenting himself as a potential saviour to yet another lost soul: “Believe me Natalie, listen Natalie, this is your last chance / To find a go-go dancer disco”. There’s something about the combination of using the girl’s name directly and the pleading sincerity of his voice that gives this song a genuine resonance; its pounding offbeat rhythm adds an emotive pulse which shuffles and stutters as the song awkwardly struggles to find its feet and eventually take flight. The accompanying synth effects give the impression of a swirling circus coming to an end, conjuring grandiose imagery of big tops collapsing and show-wagons rolling out, with or without their passengers for the next town.

Flowers was right to rag on the chancers and pretenders who hopped on the bandwagon and experienced instant recognition in the wake of his band’s well-deserved success (particularly floppy-fringed pastiche revivalists The Bravery, whose own debut was a pale imitation of Hot Fuss). If I were more of a twat I’d proclaim this my favourite song on the album, but I know that I’d only be saying it just to be contrary because I’m fed up of people not getting what Mr. Brightside’s really about. It is really fucking good though, a definite close third to Brightside and All These Things that's well worth going back and investigating – as the sentiment of the track itself suggests, it’s never too late to rectify your past mistakes.