It is the first Killers record that works better as a whole album than it does in parts. For those familiar with the band’s catalog, it’s best described as a lesser Day and Age ( 2008 ) without a “Human.”

Wonderful Wonderful doesn’t have any songs that can single-handedly carry the rest of the record. First single “The Man” is a powerfully catchy and sarcastic pseudo-funk, which finds front man Brandon Flowers poking fun at the machismo of his overconfident younger self. However, its pleasure requires the listener to hurdle over the context of its lyrics — something that non-fans will love to hate.

The second single, “Run for Cover,” is an old track that harkens back to the band’s early Vegas-Strokes days of garage-rock bombast. It’s a muscled rocker with callbacks to “Redemption Song” and “Senators” that propel forward with conviction. Yet it lacks any effortless melodic hooks that used to come naturally to the band. One can’t help but to think it sounds ambitionless.

The album works better when the non-single tracks settle themselves. “Tyson vs Douglas” (referencing one of the biggest upsets in boxing history) doesn’t try to sound explosive and contends itself with an “old school” Killers glittery-keyboard drive.

It moves forward like a more modest “Run for Cover,” while “Rut” is 1980s-infused modern R & B — which is so easy to hate in its cheesiness — but earnest delivery reigns victorious with its choir-driven Toto-like refrain of “Don’t give up on me/ Cause I’m just in rut/ I’m climbing but the walls keep stacking up” settling swiftly on the mind like a cheesy montage.

“Life to Come” may hurt itself with the kind of borrowed later-day-U2 grandiosity that The Killers could do well trimming out, but save for its expected crescendo, the song lurches forward with a nicely suited melancholy, 1980s-nuance verse.

“Some Kind of Love” moves with the same melancholy and touching moments, as Flowers’ three sons take part singing to their mother (who Flowers has made clear is a big influence on this album, having suffered from a strong bout of depression caused by a traumatic past). Fretless bass lines and patient drums (gated reverb’d, of course) decorate the song, which oozes with compassion.

Meanwhile, “Have All the Songs Been Written?” (which, c’mon, Flowers is just asking for it) doesn’t necessarily answer its own question. It’s also got some cringeworthy blues riffing and lyrics (“have all the songs been written?/ I just need one to get through to you”).

The closer “Money on Straight” is equally middling. Thankfully, “The Calling” (which has an opening speech by actor Woody Harrelson) evokes some the kind of stuttering new-wave eclecticism that covers for its lack of obvious hooks.

At this point, it’s safe to say that The Killers will never be critical darlings, and albums like these don’t help much. Like the majority of other stadium rock acts with crossover-mainstream appeal, such as Muse or Foo Fighters, The Killers’ musicality erupts with the kind of earnest, primal bombast that aims straight for the heart instead of being the cerebral shakedown that critics tend to prefer (for one, the latter is relatively more interesting to examine).

It probably doesn’t help that Flowers seems to suffer from the kind of rock-star honesty that does nothing but provide choice quotes that often (though not always) unfairly get taken out of context and put against the examinations of his band’s output.

At the end of the day, there is no denying that Flowers and his bandmates — drummer Ronnie Vannuci, guitarist Dave Keuning and bass player Mark Stoermer — can write songs very well. The Killers’ best songs — “Mr. Brightside,” “Read My Mind,” and “Human” — are efficient, instantaneous melodic alterna-rockers (or ballads) that evoke that sense of already existing only to be found.

They feel somehow familiar, with clear traces of lean, classic songwriting that work wonders in a live setting. The instrumentations are executed with economical yet knowledgeable professionalism, and dynamic with each instrument sustaining their clarity and place in the arrangement.

For the first time in their career, this efficiency is presented in album form instead of a few obvious singles. Wonderful Wonderful may not be as complete as it could have been, with guitarist Keuning and bassist Stoermer opting to not take part in its touring (and the former reportedly having little input in the album creation). But the record’s ambition and bombast feels fitting for the first time, as if its creators’ made it for their own sake instead of for people in the stadium seats.

It isn’t great by any means, with songs sometimes feeling underwritten and lacking the obvious color Keuning’s guitar usually brings, but it is well written and has plenty of variety. In a world where mainstream rock music rarely excites any more, that’s enough of a win.

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