© Anton Emdin

If, like me, you were in your very early twenties during the very early noughties (I loath this term, by the way, it makes a whole decade sound like a swinging app for accountants), you'll remember hearing The Strokes for the very first time. Brandon Flowers, frontman for The Killers, ambassador for "The Society Of Polite Rock Stars", of which Dave Grohl and Johnny Marr are also members, remembers that moment only too well. It changed his band's music - a band that has now sold a mouthwatering 22 million records and counting worldwide - and thus the trajectory of his life forever.

"I was waiting tables at this pretty fancy French bistro near the strip in Las Vegas," Flowers recalls as we sit down for a bite in the main restaurant at Chess Club, a serene, light-filled members' bar a gallstone's throw from Shepherd Market in London's Mayfair. The Killers, if they were never your thing, are famous Vegas natives, forming in 2001 after Flowers saw Oasis play the city's Hard Rock Hotel. It was a period of time when The Strokes were just emerging onto the scene from their private school educations and Jack White was yet to become "fat Zorro".

When we first started I do remember feeling pressure to be a 'rock star'. Whatever that means...

"There was a Virgin Megastore - remember them? - I used to go and browse in my break. In the section imported into the States from the UK they had The Strokes' The Modern Age EP. That's when I heard those three songs for the first time - The Modern Age, "Last Nite" and "Barely Legal"." Was it a Damascene moment for the young rocker? "It depressed me. I was floored. I heard the whole album, Is This It, soon after. We scrapped every song we'd done up until that point apart from "Mr Brightside". Nothing was good enough. The Strokes raised the bar for us, for everyone."

A version of this anecdote is also told in Lizzy Goodman's excellent oral history of that ripe musical period, Meet Me In The Bathroom, a book that maps not only the story of The Strokes but of what it was like for bands such as The Killers, LCD Soundsystem, Kings Of Leon, Interpol and Yeah Yeah Yeahs starting out in the States in the shadow of 9/11, a time when guitar music was genuinely cool again.

One particular chapter focuses on what those other acts thought of The Killers, whose debut album, Hot Fuss, came out in 2004. According to many of those staggering from stage to afterparty to hotel lobby at the time, it seemed obvious that Flowers and his stage mates were going to make it bigger than everyone else. They were hard working; their songs were more commercial; they seemed to embrace fame for what it could add, rather than what it might take away. They were also less hung up about being cool.

© Getty Images

Our food arrives. I've gone for the steamed plaice with black ginger and white soy while my American friend has the all-day breakfast muffin - a sandwich of smoked ham hock, oozing gruyère and fried egg that resembles a bready, cheesy meteorite. Chess Club started about a year ago as something of an antidote to the larger members' clubs that offer every happy ending under the service industry sun, yet little true refinement in the kitchen.

The chef encamped here is Jackson Boxer - he also runs Vauxhall's Brunswick House - and a more talented, entertaining man, both in human form and chef whites, I'm yet to meet. Much like Flowers, however, he is punchably handsome, too.

"I know the chapter you're talking about," Flowers nods, seeming to wince a little at Goodman's dissection of the bygone era. "It certainly didn't seem obvious to us at the time. Maybe we accepted our roles a little more than some of the other bands, although we learnt so much from Julian [Casablancas] and the others."

I get a buzz when I see "Mr Brightside" coming up on the set list. It would be unchivalrous to start being snooty about our biggest hit

The difference between The Killers and some of their wilder, dirtier peers was that they managed to keep their heads clear(ish) while all those around them were losing theirs - mainly on cocaine, some on heroin. Did he have no inclinations to fulfil the archetypal rock star clichés? "Sure! I went through a small phase of thinking that I needed to be someone I perhaps wasn't," he explains. "Luckily for me I was never drawn fully into it. When we first started I do remember feeling pressure to be a 'rock star'. Whatever that means..."

With a new album, Wonderful Wonderful, out this month the band will be on the road again before long. Surely, after a 15-year reign, Flowers can't still enjoy playing "Mr Brightside", "Human" or "All These Things That I've Done". "You'd think not, right? But I get a buzz when I see "Mr Brightside" coming up on the set list. It's the single that made us. It would be unchivalrous to start being snooty about our biggest hit."

So, what of the future? Where do stadium-filling rock bands go when there are no more stadiums left to fill? For The Killers, the answer is in their past and the place that signifies the musical equivalent of being immortalised in bronze: Las Vegas. "A residency? It'll happen," he chuckles conspiratorially. It's clear this is something that has already been discussed with his band mates. "We aren't ready for the long, gilded goodbye just yet."

1a Chesterfield Street, London W1. 020 7495 6171. chessclublondon.com. Follow us on Vero for exclusive music content and commentary, all the latest music lifestyle news and insider access into the GQ world, from behind the scenes insight to recommendations from our Editors and high-profile talent.

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