Now this is even though this album did my wrong from the first night that we met. My friend Becca loaned it to me right before I got on a night bus to Cuenca and I liked it sooo much that when the Benadryl kicked in and I started to get very sleepy, I failed to put away my disc man, which also had eight of my favorite cd´s. (Marcus and Cynthia´s wedding compilation for one, Tom Waits´ Frank´s Wild Years for another, along with Lucinda Williams Live at the Filmore Volume II, Yo La Tengo, Electropura, Moby, Play, and the kicker, U2 Achtung Baby.) In the morning when the dew was just starting to dry over the hills of Cañar, I woke up without my discman, without my disc´s and without the Killer´s new cd.
Fortunately I have nice parents and they went out and bought it for me and sent it along. Since then its been a nonstop love affair with me and this album. I don´t listen to the radio. I don´t listen to any of my other music. Just the Killers, at top volume with my singing along and dancing, if anyone needs something to giggle at (nicely, now.)
I realize my tendency to eschew little gadgets is again at fault here. It´s much harder to walk off with an mp3 player that is clipped to someone´s shirt than it is to walk off with a cd player only slightly concealed in the top of a backpack. Yeah, yeah.
Ironically, Pitchfork media draws a comparison between just the U2 album of which I was bereft and this one.
Other places indicate that the band may have just gone for the wrong rock-icon; the reverb-chirp "higher and higher" peak of (seriously) "Bling (Confessions of a King)" indicates that the Killers are more successful impressionists of Achtung Baby-era U2.
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