Apparently not all the Killers wanted to leave Sam’s Town behind. Left to his own devices, Brandon Flowers rushes back to the faded facades, tattered dreams, and overheated pomp of the Killers’ second album. Flowers’ tales of West Coast losers on a last-chance power drive are pretty much the only differentia between Flamingo and a Killers album. So florid are Flowers' obsessions -- not every songwriter squeezes two song cycles out of Las Vegas -- that it’s always a bit of a shock to realize that he truly means it all: his odes to Sin City are devoid of irony, his spectacle isn’t meant to have a shred of camp, and his mini-epics are intended to paint him as the Springsteen of the desert. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, Rovi

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