inspiration

WHEN Brandon Flowers was a kid, his dad tried to teach him how to fight.

The lad had been picked on at school, so his father Terry talked him through what to do if it happened again.

Decades later, a memory of that time helped inspire the title of Flowers’ third solo album, Thrasher.

The Killers’ frontman still remembers sitting beside his father Terry in his old 1946 Chevy truck. “I was in fifth grade, so only 11 years old,” he recalls.

“My dad grew up fighting and I still remember him trying to explain to me how to fight.

“You can explain to me all day, but I’m not a fighter.

“He’d say, ‘You don’t just swing. You think about when you’re going to throw your punch and you have to block yourself’.

“When I’m on stage, I find myself doing it so much. You have this crazy relationship, boys and their dads. I’m still trying to show him that I can do it.”

Flowers is all smiles when we meet at his central London record label. He’s just back from a week in Scotland with his family and feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

Thrasher arrives 11 years after his last solo album, The Desired Effect. It is inspired by country and western, the music his dad listened to when Flowers was growing up.

“Much has been said about how my love of music came from my brother [Shane].

“Yeah, it did, but at the same time, I was hearing country music from my dad. His favourites were the heavy hitters — Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard — along with some of those who were not as famous. There’s a guy named John Conlee who he listened to, who I really love.

“As a teenager, I felt I had to choose — the kid who listens to New Order doesn’t also listen to Waylon Jennings.

“As I get older, I just seem to gravitate back to my father’s music.”

Flowers says he has become closer to his father, and increasingly like him, as he has grown older — and admits he is still trying to prove himself to his dad.

He says: “I’m trying to show my dad that I can do what he does. He’s a good man. He’s doing pretty good.

“He had open heart surgery at 81, which is a difficult thing. He’s five months past it now and is pretty good.”

Ideas for Thrasher began shortly after Flowers finished The Killers’ last record — 2021’s Pressure Machine.

He says: “I really enjoyed making this. It was a very important record to me. I didn’t want to leave it alone, so I just continued. It was such a revelation.

“I had all these memories, all these characters and sadness — all of this stuff that I could now find a place for and turn them into something.

“These songs don’t feel like Killers songs — they’re quite personal, so it felt natural that it should be a solo record. It’s been nearly ten years since the last one — I can’t believe it.”

Thrasher is a beautifully observed, emotionally affecting record.

The first single Plans “picks up where Pressure Machine left off”, says Flowers.

“It does a good job of representing the record. There’s some strong emotional material on this album.”

One of the most moving songs on Thrasher is One Of Us, a tribute to his sister’s late husband.

Flowers, the youngest in his family, jokes that he was always told he was “a surprise” — until he was eight, when a friend’s dad bluntly informed him he was “a mistake”.

“I have a sister who is 17 years older than me so her husband was around since I was a little boy.

“He was my brother, so when he passed, it was just heartbreaking and completely unexpected. He was just out of heart surgery. You just want to pay tribute to them and my sister loves it.”

The warm, wistful Paradise finds Flowers imagining the life he might have led, had music not taken him away from home.

“I always thought I would be a valet parker. That was my goal,” he says with a chuckle.

“And if music didn’t work out, it was my Plan B.

“I would be really happy to support my family and be a valet. That’s what my cousins and uncles have done — bellman and valet.

“I have a cousin, Bobby, who has spent his whole adult life as a valet parker, and he was sending me some texts one day complaining about work.

“I was sitting at the piano and just jumped on it, and used it as a launching pad for a song about an ageing valet parker.

“It’s basically him, and it’s where I would be right now if I didn’t have this incredible thing happen to me.

“I have this empathy for him and I’m exploring what could have been and what might have been. There’s sadness in it, but there are also winks and nods.

“That’s the thing I love about country music — how those can coexist.”

Thrasher was recorded quickly in Nashville with seasoned session musicians, including legendary harmonica player Charlie McCoy, whose credits include Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton.

Flowers says: “He played on all those Bob Dylan records and on Roy Orbison’s Oh, Pretty Woman and Simon & Garfunkel’s The Boxer. He played with Leonard Cohen and had great stories about them all. He’s the mascot of Nashville and so incredible.”

Flowers says that the song Red Ground came especially quickly.

“I was trying for a Lee Hazlewood vibe and that song fell into our laps. These guys do this every day for hours. They make decisions that would break a band.”

Thrasher also finds Flowers making peace with his own past.

Although Las Vegas has always been central to The Killers’ identity, he admits he once felt conflicted about his Utah upbringing.

Now he says: “It did feel like I was keeping Utah a secret because I am happy to wave the flag for Las Vegas, but had a bit of a conflict about Utah.

“Now, there’s nothing wrong with embracing both.

“I look back with more tenderness now, and I’m so grateful for my upbringing there.

“I really lived in a golden time where you’re just free. It was before phones and technology and was idyllic — like something out of Stand By Me.”

Having interviewed Flowers many times over the past 20 years, one of the biggest changes is how much more comfortable he now seems revealing parts of himself he once kept guarded, particularly his Mormon faith.

He says: “I was so shy back then. I’m still shy, but I was also unsure about interviews and you don’t know what you’re supposed to reveal.

“It’s so not rock ’n’ roll to talk about Jesus in a positive light. It’s very common in sports but I think people are less open in music.

“There is this authenticity turmoil, where you feel like we’ve always glorified hedonism and debauchery in rock ’n’ roll — and even beyond rock ’n’ roll.

“In every kind of art form, those seem to be the people that we really revere because they are outliers. But I’ve realised it doesn’t make me any less creative because I have faith. I’m just never going to be Sid Vicious.”

Flowers, 45, says coming to terms with his different identities, and simply being himself, has become easier as he’s got older.

“I’m more forgiving of my younger self, but I’m still hard on my current self,” he says.

“We all have that inner voice and it can be the worst critic.

“It’s not been easy, but I now realise I can be that guy on stage, and also a family man,” he explains. “But I was so conflicted for a while.

“Half of you feels like an imposter, and then the other half is trying to show why you belong — it messes with your mind. I was lucky to find something that I was passionate about.

“That’s what I encourage my boys to find.”

Flowers’ sons Ammon, 19, Gunnar, 17, and Henry, 15, have all grown up with their dad on stage — but they are not impressed by his status.

Flowers says: “Ammon loves fitness and being outside — he is just about to go to college in Philadelphia which he’s half excited and half scared about. My wife is sad about him leaving home.

“Then Gunnar loves horror and 90s rock and a lot of grunge, too.

“Henry is a football fanatic so when The Killers performed at the Champions League Final in Budapest, he got to meet David Beckham and was in heaven.

“Mick Jagger was there as well but it was all about Beckham, who signed a football card for him. He’s also a full-blown Oasis fan, so I need to take him to see them when they play again next year.”

Flowers remains hopeful about the future, even though he admits he is deeply troubled by Donald Trump’s America and the actions of ICE.

“This administration is scary,” says Flowers.

“It feels so un-American, and it goes against all of our values and the things that are beautiful about our country.

“You do feel a little bit hopeless and helpless.” But he still believes change can come through younger generations and the ballot box.

“We have to remember to use our voices and to fight back at the polls when the time comes.”

He adds: “Nobody from the other side is rising up at the moment. Somebody needs to rise up. Get the hell up.”

Never one to stand still for long, Flowers has always had an impressive work ethic.

Another solo album is already in the pipeline, with a new Killers record also expected in 2027.

Until then, he is excited about his solo tour, which begins next week and arrives in the UK in October, including a night at the Royal Albert Hall.

He’s already debuted songs from Thrasher at July’s Newport Folk Festival — the famous Rhode Island event where Bob Dylan went electric in 1965.

“I’ve got a band together. This tour is going to be a different experience than you are accustomed to,” he says.

“I’m going to tell more stories and take advantage of these smaller rooms — the Albert Hall is the biggest room I’m playing.

“I want to explain the story behind the songs, which you can’t do in a stadium — so I thought this would be the time to give it a shot.

“I worry people will get sick of Mr. Brightside so I feel lucky that I have different outlets for my music.”

Brandon Flowers

Thrasher

★★★★☆

This is the people pleaser. Phoenix Bakery’s now-iconic strawberry-and-whipped-cream cake has been called “L.A.’s most popular cake” for good reason. It’s light, not too sweet, packed with fresh berries and surrounded by a cloud of airy whipped-cream frosting with a border of sliced almonds for crunch. For generations of L.A. kids, including my own, this is the birthday cake. Dreamed up by the late Lun F. Chan as an extravagant expansion of strawberry shortcake, it has a double-layer base of chiffon cake (another L.A. invention). You can order tres leches and other types of cakes at the bakery, founded in 1938 by Chan’s brother, Fung Chow Chan, but nearly everyone comes in for the strawberry cake, which except for holidays is almost always available for walk-ins. And with prices starting at $29.95 for a 6-inch cake that serves five to six people, it’s also one of this city’s most affordable ways to make a birthday special.

“The World Cup is ruining my life,” a neighbor recently said with a laugh. “I’m supposed to be working; instead I’m watching World Cup. I’m supposed to be doing chores; instead I am watching World Cup.”

I laughed in guilty recognition. We had met on the street by chance while I was walking the dog. Having just spent the last two hours watching, then celebrating Lionel Messi’s hat trick during Argentina’s first-game victory over Algeria, I had less than an hour to get back in time to watch Austria play Jordan.

That was on Day 6, and it’s only gotten worse. If I had to calculate my own ratio of work done to soccer watched … well, as I am not a sports reporter, I don’t think my editor would be thrilled. (Though I’m sure she appreciated the England/Congo updates I provided as I finished this piece.)

Like millions worldwide, my family and I have been deeply, and in our case, weirdly, engrossed in this year’s games. “Weirdly” because we do not follow men’s soccer. The World Cup is different, of course — going in, I figured I would check out the U.S., keep an eye on Messi, then tune into the final few games. Perhaps my husband would join (but only if he at least pretended to understand the offside rule), but with our two oldest children out of the house, it is, with the exception of the Super Bowl, unheard of for our family to concurrently view any sporting event in real time.

Until this World Cup. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but suddenly we’ve got game times written onto our calendar. Entire days have been spent in front of the TV with at least one child and the others watching from their homes, our family texts studded with “are you watching…?,” “did you just see that?” and, of course, “OMG MESSI!”

(I would attempt to calculate my recent ratio of chores done to Messi videos watched if I weren’t legitimately concerned that my family would have me committed.)

The fact that my son and his girlfriend live in Kansas City certainly helped spark our newfound fascination. Yes, Los Angeles is also a host city, but L.A. hosts so many things; inevitably we were mostly concerned about what it would do to the traffic. KC, on the other hand, is the smallest and most unlikely of the host cities, and over the last few years we have seen — on visits and through my son’s accounts — all the construction, effort and can-do spirit that has gone into preparing for the event.

We were thrilled when it was announced that Argentina, England, the Netherlands and Algeria would be based in or near KC. We wanted the city to shine, and it has — from nearby Lawrence’s enthusiastic adoption of Algeria to Messi’s historic hat trick at Kansas City Stadium.

But it’s more than vicarious Midwestern pride. When our older daughter began texting out missives from the earliest games and our son sent pictures of fans streaming into Kansas City Stadium, we started watching as a way to stay connected.

First, as a family, and then to our country and the rest of world.

The games have been inevitably exciting, especially as now that they’re in the knockout round, but the overall sensation was unexpected relief, a soul-soothing balm.

At a time when the news cycle seems to serve up nothing but conflict, crisis and woe, the World Cup offers shelter, a truly international event in which conflict is defined by long-term sports rivalries and questionable referee decisions.

We want our national or preferred teams to win, of course, but no matter the outcome, it’s impossible not to be thrilled by the sight of phenomenal play, underdog tenacity and so many adoring and enthusiastic fans.

Soccer is called the beautiful game for many reasons, and hours/days/weeks of sustained beauty is impossible to resist. Even social media has surrendered to spectacular highlights along with tales of Japan supporters cleaning up stadiums, fans of the victorious consoling fans of the defeated and Europeans discovering the glories of free refills and ranch dressing.

None of this changes the realities we face in America and the rest of the world. Grocery and gas prices remain catastrophically high; Iran continues to contradict U.S. claims of diplomatic resolution to an unpopular war. The unnecessarily revamped reflecting pool in Washington remains a swamp of algae and tourist arrests, as the semiquincentennial struggles under the weight of our president’s self-centered hubris.

But for a few blessed weeks, the World Cup offers inspiration, escape and cultural healing.

It has also, thus far, escaped President Trump’s so often internationally insulting social-media notice and more importantly, his presence. Historically, the leaders of host countries attend the opening match; Trump has, apparently, been too busy (including planning and attending the UFC Freedom 250 cage match recently held on the South Lawn.)

Given his tendency to suck the oxygen out of any room (like his recent reception at Game 3 of the NBA Finals in New York), it’s definitely for the best. If nothing else, the World Cup has given us a chance to take a break from politics and talk instead about Messi, France’s Kylian Mbappé, England’s Harry Kane and all the amazing goalkeepers, including Cape Verde’s now-iconic Vozinha.

Never before have I so understood the therapeutic power of sport.

Who wouldn’t want to at least take a break from rising measles cases, the latest federal or Supreme Court decisions and primary tea-leaf readings to lose themselves in a game where exquisitely patient passing suddenly bursts into spectacular feats of speed and footwork? Where a well-defended ball can suddenly become a goal with a nearly undetectable flick of a foot, or a perfectly placed shot blocked by a goalie’s incredible ability to launch into space? Where an outcome that seems assured can be overturned in the final minutes to the collective roar of an international cast of thousands?

Like many Americans, I have been occasionally embarrassed by the World Cup’s exposure of my world-geography ignorance — I know where Bosnia and Herzegovina lies on a map, but until recently, I couldn’t place Cape Verde, Curacao or, if I’m being completely honest, Cote d’Ivoire.

Isn’t it wonderful, though, to have a reason to reacquaint yourself with a world map that isn’t related to war, natural or man-made disaster or economic and political tension? The current U.S. administration may seem to be at odds with just about everyone, but visiting World Cup fans are here to remind us of all we share, beneath our crazy wigs and face paint, our cheers, groans and chants.

And we, as hosts, have shown them that America is so much more than the sum of our current government’s policies and posturing.

Watching all this happen, in real time, has been magical, miraculous and magnetic.

Not every moment, of course. Various visa issues created unnecessary and embarrassing drama; high ticket prices and transportation issues were blamed for empty seats at some of the early games. Members of the Iranian team and its coaching staff criticized the way they were treated (though the team left a handwritten note in the dressing room of Los Angeles Stadium, thanking L.A. for its hospitality). The controversial hydration breaks, and the extra commercials they accommodate, can be irritating (though when it’s close to 100 degrees in many stadiums, quite necessary). And though it didn’t matter in terms of standing, watching the U.S. lose to Turkey wasn’t much fun for American fans (though the Turkish exuberance was pretty infectious).

Overall, the 2026 World Cup has done exactly what it was supposed to do: create, in this country, a stage for the finest teams and players in the world’s most popular sport and, more important, carve out five weeks in which we can all spend a few hours removed from the political and cultural divisiveness that threatens to define us.

It’s space in which we can cheer, gasp and leap out of seats along with our families, friends and all the millions we will never meet but to whom we are connected all the same.

Now if you’ll excuse me, the next game is about to start.

MOLLY-Mae Hague has revealed the unexpected inspiration behind baby Midas’s name – and fans will be stunned to learn he’s not named after the Greek king.

The Love Island star, 27, who welcomed her second child with Tommy Fury at the start of the month, has now opened up about the real meaning behind the tot’s name.

Tommy sensationally revealed their new baby’ name when he took on British retired strongman competitor Eddie Hall, and wore garments of clothing emblazoned with Midas’s name.

At first, it was speculated that the newborn’s name was inspired by the Greek king whom turned things to gold by simply touching them – but this is not the meaning behind Midas’s name.

Speaking in a new vlog, Molly-Mae has revealed that their son’s name was actually inspired by robot boxing film, Real Steel. 

The 2011 film, which stars Hugh Jackman and Evangeline Lilly, is set in a near-future world.

In the flick, high-tech robots replace human boxers in the ring, and one of the characters is called Midas, which is where Molly fell in love with the name.

Speaking about the inspiration behind Midas, Molly said: “We have named our son Midas. His middle name is Thomas and his surname is Fury.

“So he’s Midas Thomas Fury. We had this name for a boy for quite a few years.

“I saw a couple of comments when the name was being rumoured about how the name originates from Greek mythology because there was a king called King Midas, and he was the king.

“I believe the story is that everything he touches turns to gold, and I do absolutely just like love that saying,” she added.

Molly, who was speaking in the clip that was recorded before Midas’s name was revealed in the boxing ring, added: “When Tommy wears his kit tomorrow, inside the kit, when we were designing it, we put a little patch inside that says everything he touches turns into gold because I do just think it’s so special.

“But equally, he’s not necessarily named after the Greek King because I saw a few comments being like, ‘um, King Midas was a fool in Greek mythology. Like this is just so silly if she’s called her son this’.

“But the same way Bambi is not necessarily named after the Disney character Bambi, is the same way Midas is not named after the Greek King. This is the most random story.

“I actually found the name from watching a film called Real Steel, which is like the most random film. It’s basically like Transformers. 

“It’s the most not me film ever. And I showed my mum it the other week. 

“She was like, ‘This is so like random for you to like this film.’ And I was like, ‘I know, but it’s actually such a great film’.

“It’s got Hugh Jackman in it, and it’s a film about robots boxing.

“And one of the robots in the film that was boxing was called Midas.

“I heard the name, and I thought this was years ago. I was like, ‘Wow, that’s a really cool strong name’.

“Like Midas, I’ve never heard of that before. I just thought Midas Fury, I thought, ‘Wow, what a strong name’.

“Then I mentioned it to Tommy, and he just absolutely fell in love with I don’t even know what timeline we’re looking at here.

“This could have been like literally years ago, but that was always our boy name really that we stuck with.”

It was initially thought that Midas was picked for its Ancient Greek connotations.

Symbolising wealth and opulence, the term is often associated with the legendary figure King Midas, who possessed the mythical ability to turn everything he touched into gold.

Midas is a prominent character in Greek mythology, and according to legend, “King Midas ruled Phrygia in Anatolia and was granted the power to turn objects into gold by the god Dionysus”.

In more modern discussions, Midas is often used to describe individuals or entities that possess a special knack for generating wealth.

For “Abbott Elementary” costume designer Hachy Mendez-Smith, the fifth season’s Halloween episode — in which Gregory (Tyler James Williams) and Janine (Quinta Brunson) dress up as “Sinners” filmmaker Ryan Coogler and an Imax screen, respectively — had to do more than deliver a punchline. It also had to reflect their characters. “Gregory has always been the more grounded, measured type. And then Janine is naturally more whimsical, optimistic and quirky, so she carried the bigger, more expressive visual in the moment,” she says. “And as his girlfriend, she’s always been supportive of him. So even in costume, it was like she was literally holding space for his story. It felt authentic, not just comedic.” The designer drew inspiration for Gregory’s burgundy coat from a Coogler red carpet moment, tailoring a clean, sophisticated silhouette while playing with the scale of Janine’s costume. “Quinta’s 4-11 in real life, so we had to be mindful yet over the top to land the visual right away,” she notes. The highlight for Mendez-Smith: Coogler’s reaction. “I was honored he even watched and loved that he talked about how much the show means to him,” she says. “And it was hilarious that initially he thought it was AI. He couldn’t believe how spot on it was.” How spot on? Even Janine’s screen matched the correct Imax aspect ratio: 1.43:1.