By Mykal Urbina and Emily Larsen Doxford

On Friday, March 17, the Killers took the stage at Mohegan Sun Arena in Connecticut, greeted by 10,000 screaming fans. On Monday, March 19, the same scene at Petersen Events Center in Pittsburgh. On the setlist: “Mr. Brightside,” “Smile Like You Mean It,” “All These Things That I’ve Done.” Laser lights, fog machines, confetti, jumbotrons. Rock ‘n roll furor at its finest.

Yet in the midst of the make-up shows leg of a global tour, Saturday, March 18 found Killers’ frontman Brandon Flowers in New York City, seated in an old-school director’s chair. Handheld mic. Exposed brick wall. Acoustic guitars. An intimate gathering of 600 attentive fans, seated, awed, listening.

Stories

First, a conversation between design & branding legend Stanley Hainsworth and Brandon about the intersection of art and faith. A pacing Brandon in the wings (paraphrased: talking about things like this usually means I’ve prepared a sacrament meeting talk or a testimony! What am I going to say?!). Followed by thirty minutes of vulnerable, honest discussions of childhood in the lights of Vegas, universal messages from individual experiences in rural Utah, family, faith, and compassion.

Stanley Hainsworth shares his perspectives from their conversation:

How would it feel to live your religion on stage in front of the world? The night of Stories and Songs with Brandon Flowers of The Killers gave us a window into that life. Living under a double microscope of faith and celebrity, Brandon shared with us stories about the grounding he receives through family—both from his parents growing up, as well currently through his wife and children. And how both songwriting and faith is an ongoing process that share a common trait; you have to do it to find it.

& Songs

The setlist that followed:

“Terrible Thing” (acoustic)

“Lord, I Would Follow Thee” (acoustic, Latter-day Saint hymn)

“Be Still” (acoustic)

“Read My Mind (acoustic)

If the Killers’ fan base (a.k.a. The Victims) are to be believed—and I trust them—this was the premiere of an unplugged version of “Terrible Thing/” And I can vouch for the fact that the evening’s closing song, “Read My Mind,” was a post-sound check, feeling-it-in-the-moment addition, rehearsed only in the Green Room. Door closed, plastic chairs, with Jake and Robbie on guitar. In between, a soulful rendition of a beloved Latter-day Saint Hymn, a musical prayer pleading for compassion, strength to serve, and acceptance of others.

There were other stories and songs shared that night, too.

Like our host, Stanley Hainsworth, I wanted to hear from other individuals who participated in the evening. We’d come to learn more about Brandon Flowers and were rewarded in that effort. In a way that only a once-in-a-generation frontman could, Brandon shared humorous anecdotes about his hometown while sagely discussing his belief amidst his rock-and-roll world. But what would others say if I asked them for their own “story” about the evening.

Bri Ray, a popular singer-songwriter shares this about the event:

Performing as part of the Stories & Songs event was really special. The event created a unique opportunity to connect on the commonalities of the vulnerability, joy, hurt, spirituality, and love that we all experience throughout our individual lives. The event offered a much needed space for art to be expressed in its most raw and authentic form—Straight from the artist. As musicians and performing artists, we often don’t get the chance to share the inspiration behind the music. 

What the Stories & Songs event reestablished is the relevance and importance of sharing the origins of our stories, beliefs and art, so that we might connect on the intimacy and intricacies of our experience on earth together as humans.

Emily Larsen Doxford, the Center’s communication and marketing director, also shares a few behind-the-scenes moments:

The story I will continue to share about the March 18th event is the story of community.  Alongside my colleagues, I spent ample hours preparing for the evening; and the day of the benefit was no exception. Our small staff had been racing around the venue and the Upper West Side for days, securing last minute items and ensuring artists had what they needed for a successful run of show. Meanwhile, new and old friends struck up planned meetings and impromptu conversations over chips and salsa in the Green Room backstage. We were a hive of activity.

But there were moments of stillness, too. 

The Center for Latter-day Saint Arts explores the intersection of cultural relevance and divine creativity. This is where we pause to build community. As the Center’s marketing and communications director, I was able to spend a good part of the event day with a truly tremendous photographer, Samantha Zauscher. Sam had the near impossible task of photographing portions of the show while also capturing assets for upcoming Center projects—in a single day. At one point in the late afternoon, I went to assist her while she photographed the openers, Bri Ray and Ashley. Walking into the small, makeshift studio in the basement of Symphony Space, I felt it: stillness, magic, purpose. Call it what you will. It’s the gravity and space that comes when artists meet at the intersection of relevance and creativity. On this day, it transpired when three creatives shared an immediate, mutual respect for one another and became the instant and enthusiastic witnesses of one another’s talents: performer to lens, stage to audience, artist to human. Behind the viewing screen, I observed Sam uncovering the layers of depth and dynamism in Bri and Ashley through her still images. And for a few moments, I learned something about them all.

With these kinds of thoughts circling my mind, I entered the theater: Brandon, Robbie, and Jake were practicing “Lord, I Would Follow Thee” during their soundcheck. Few others were listening or even focused on the stage at that point. But, once again, I felt it: stillness, magic, purpose. The most talented musicians of my generation were singing words I knew by heart, felt to my core, memorized in childhood, and sang in my adulthood. It wasn’t about the words of the hymn or that any one faith tradition prevailed in thought or praxis that night, though. It was that another trio of voices carved another avenue for belonging.

 It’s not surprising that when the multi-faith, multicultural collective, the KING will come, took to the stage that night, I was able to landmark what I was feeling. Together, they performed Ashley Hess’s soon-to-be-released single, “Yet.” In three minutes they captured all the stillness, magic, and purpose. As a community that night, we shared the sense of yet.

Do you have a story to share about Brandon Flowers: Stories and Songs? Keep us posted here.