Brandon Flowers, The Killers' enigmatic and svelte vocalist, is not a happy pop star. In a windy parking lot just outside Vegas' spooky Neon Graveyard, he's cold and he's tired and, much to his chagrin, guitarist Dave Keuning won't let him in his car.

"Fucking asshole."

"I'm out of here," Keuning tells him, which frankly does little to help his mood.

"But I don't have a car," Flowers snaps back.

An impossible impasse. And clearly not their first.


THERE'S little that can stretch a friendship further than 13 months spent in a van together with scant access to clean underwear. Such has been the case for Keuning and Flowers who, along with the tallest bass player in the world, Mark Stoermer, and drummer Ronnie Vannucci, have been busy capitalising on the success of the most surprising debut album to come out of Las Vegas since... well, who on earth actually comes from Las Vegas?

Better known as the place bands go to die, the original Sin City gave life to The Killers, and in a cliché-defying twist what happened in Vegas refused to stay in Vegas. And in turn conquered the world. Their prophetically-titled CD, Hot Fuss, with its shades of Duran, The Cure, Bowie, Morrissey, Pulp, New Order and, er, Shed Seven, has gone platinum both sides of the atlantic and garnered three Grammys and two Brits noms. As a dishevelled Flowers stands dejectedly staring into Keuning's rental car, their musical offspring is currently prodding gently against The Scissor Sisters at number two in the UK album charts.

Meanwhile, with a wave of a boa Sir Elton of John has officially declared them his new new favourite band; Morrissey invited them to open proceedings for him on his recent tour; and other Flowers and Co favourites like Bono and Bowie have been quick to align themselves with The Hottest New Young Things. Not bad for a band who not much longer than a year ago were signed to tiny Brit label Lizard King and producing their debut album from the material pulled together in the heat of Keuning's sweltering garage.

But that was then and this is now, and with great success comes great responsibility. Which is why the knackered four-piece's tattered shoes have barely touched Nevada soil since 'Somebody Told Me' drenched international airwaves and they went off to bring the music to the people.

"We've had such a crazy schedule," says an exhausted looking Stoermer, "going back and forth and all the flying and changing time zones and being in LA one day and London the next..."

"I'm so tired," interrupts Flowers. "Your time off goes by so quickly. They think they're being so gracious by giving you two weeks off, but you really spend it all catching up on bills and keeping up on trying to sort out your car or whatever. You turn around and it's time to go again."

"We've only been home two weeks in the last 13 months," adds Keuning, "and that's probably the biggest downside. I think we knew that being a successful band we wouldn't be home, but we didn't know we'd be away this much."

So much, in fact, that - despite the glamorous suits and hair-dos and album sales - the less glamorous harsh reality is that the guitarist is currently homeless.

"They pulled down my old apartment and I just never really got another one," he says. "So whenever we do get home I have to stay in hotels, which makes it really expensive for me. A place like the Stratosphere, which is a real middle of the road hotel, was $49 the first night, but because there was a convention in town it went up to $350 the following night. I can't afford $350 for one day - I had to move out. It's just getting too hard to live like this."


IT'S a day later and Flowers and Keuning have kissed and made up. Freak storm clouds have left Las Vegas and taken a few personal storm clouds with them. Flowers is smiling again.

"There are times when you do get sick of each other," he admits, "but not as much as most people. I think we all actually get along really well."

Which is rather opportune as it looks like the four of them could be stuck in that van with each other for more than just the foreseeable future. The journey, which started with the synth-pop limited-release UK single Mr Brightside and moved through a worldwide deal with Island Records and ultimately to the success of the eclectic Hot Fuss, is in its relative infancy. Meanwhile, Flowers himself is still balancing precariously somewhere between fan and star.

"I still have posters on my walls," he laughs incredulously. "Morrissey, David Bowie, The Beatles, The Stones, so it's really weird to be in the situation we're in."

What it been like meeting your posters?

"I just wasn't ready for it," he admits. "I remember being in a bathroom at our gig in New York and I heard two guys speaking outside saying 'oh Bowie's coming tonight and make sure he gets in and gets this table'. There was a pause and the guy goes 'David Bowie?' That was just shocking to me. And we play and I can just see him and I'm sure it was the worst show we've ever played. I wasn't ready for that. Maybe in a couple of years I will be."

Before then, though, that difficult second album, a hurdle that's tripped many a sliced bread-topping band before them. With so much time spent flogging the live and kicking horse that is Hot Fuss, there's been scant time to prepare for the sophomore follow-up.

"That's one thing that's been a real nuisance," says Keuning. "We've not had proper time to write new songs like we used to in the garage. Back then we would all get together every day after work and play a song three hours straight and get it almost finished in one day. Now we get 30 minutes here and there at the very most."

Not that the well has run entirely dry. His favourite new Killers song is a track called Higher and Higher, which he describes as having "the biggest chorus ever written" and "good enough to keep me in the band for another ten years". Which covers precisely a fifth of his ambition.

"I'd like this band to last for another 50 years. I want to be in a band like Queen - that's my dream. I want that kind of longevity and that kind of variety."

And the Brian May haircut to match?

"Um, I'm not actually going for that, no. Thanks."

Flowers, meanwhile, would be happy with just another 25 years.

"Dave said 50 more years? Huh. Well, Dave's a little bit out of it. He'll be, like, 80 years old by then. Though having said that, that might be about the time I can slip down to the Strip and start crooning in one of those hotels. As long as I'm still singing, I'd do that in a heartbeat."