I get it — Brandon Flowers has a fetish for the ’80s. While The Killers’ last album, Sam’s Town, seemed to prove the group indeed understood they were a rock band from the American desert and not a Morrissey tribute, they still bow to the monuments of their English idols with synthy swoons.

And that’s one of the criticisms of the Killers’ music — they were built to emulate. But on their latest, Day & Age, Flowers runs into a problem there too: He seems unsure of who he really wants to imitate.

Hot Fuss seemed to make it clear that he gave his heart to post-punk and still mourned the death of Ian Curtis as his vocals sounded shaky and disconnected as the staccato chords and keyboards behind him provided a high energy counterpoint — “Mr. Brightside” has just the perfect amount of gloom and pumping pop rock.

But Day & Age hits the ground running from the beginning with some class Morrissey formula. “Losing Touch” bursts in with a horn section and pumping tempo. You almost expect Flowers to open with some in your face, “Yeah, we’re back!” given the carefree instruments dancing around him, but Flowers has no problems being the Debbie Downer of the group: “Console me in my darkest hour/ Could this be that the truth is always grey/ Caress me in your velvet chair/ Conceal me from the ghost you cast away.”

But Flowers still can’t make up his mind. “Human” sounds like a really good New Order rip-off and Flowers actually shows a more powerful pop vocal, but follows the track with “Spaceman,” which inserts a few keyboard lines from “When You Were Young” and some beefed up synth chords.

The Killers do replicate their poppy post-punk strategy on a few tracks here, but with less success. “This Is Your Life,” tries to spin a convincing marching drum beat with minimal guitar echoes and obtrusive “Wooooaps,” but Flowers’ overriding message about life isn’t tragic or ironic; it’s just a big shrug: “Wait for something better/ No one behind you/ Watching your shadows/ You gotta be stronger than the story.”

But even if their retreads aren’t exactly awe-inspiring, they might be better off that way. “Joy Ride” thinks it’s fine grooving along on its Latin Jazz saxophone solos and conga drum beat, but Flowers sounds less convinced when he sings the title like it’s a question. “I Can’t Wait” manages to sing about isolation and exoneration to the tunes of some bastardized attempt at island calypso. Thanks to The Killers ruining even the most mediocre elements of ’80s pop, I now can imagine them playing with either the Miami Sound Machine or that cartoon cat Paula Abdul danced with.

But after trying out the skins of Duran Duran, Emilio Estefan and Elton John during his coke binges, Flowers realizes he feels just snug in the ranks of Joy Division and does his best version of “Atmosphere” on the closing track, “Good Night, Travel Well.” Apparently, the best way to send someone off is by playing them a death march — useful for family reunions, I’m sure.

Hot Fuss may not have been a masterpiece, but it knew how to rework a specific sound. Sam’s Town was more earthy, but it still knew who it was imitating. Day & Age simply looks for someone new to copy, chooses any influence it can grab, throws it in its overnight bag and heads out on the road without taking its lithium. The result is a bipolar new wave circus that only reverts to its former personality after a few unfortunate outbursts.

1 and 1/2 stars out of 5.