The Killers

What a difference 12 months makes.

As the world has just about recovered from Hot Fuss mania and the fallout of the impact made by The Killers and other eighties-tinged acts briefly blazing in their wake before simmering to an embarrassing pile of embers, no one could have been quite prepared for the hysteria which greets Brandon Flowers and co.’s return to these shores.

It wasn’t so long ago that their detractors were predicting their demise would be almost as instant as their rise; that they would return to their Vegas homestead and bathe in mascara and Springsteen forever more, without bothering us again on this side of the pond. Obviously none of these soothsayers are among tonight’s audience, several members of which have paid over £100 to one of the evil-looking touts lurking around Nottingham’s streets this evening. Indeed, with Millwall being in town, it is a case of watching one’s back around the city centre. Also, The Killers’ demographic has changed dramatically since their last visit: a fair few of the Burberry/Hackett/Stone Island knuckledragger brigade are in attendance, and boy do they want to spoil your fun if you so much as look in their direction or commit that heinous crime of dancing.

Still - and despite the many obstacles on offer - it really is an almost impossible task not to come away from a Killers show feeling like you’ve just experienced one of the greatest nights of your life.

Granted, they may not be the most original band of this or any other century, but they sure as hell know how to entertain a crowd. When all is said and done, that is the main purpose of seeing a live performance.

They also realise the importance of keeping the fans contented - while this tour has been hastily arranged to promote their recent Sam’s Town opus, and the repertoire of playing a new song followed by an old one may be a tried and tested method, the four-piece sure as hell keep the adrenalin flowing, even if only because the guessing game of anticipation as to what they’re going to play next sends reverberated Chinese Whispers around Rock City between every song. Matt Bellamy and friends, please take note.

What is also apparent is that Brandon Flowers’ voice, derided by many as being past its sell-by date, sounds in fine fettle tonight, so much so that every song, both old and new, sounds anthemic and timeless. Everyone’s a killer, if you’ll pardon the pun.

The new album’s euphoric title track and recent single ‘When You Were Young’ sound much more accomplished and wholesome in this setting than tucked away on the record, while ‘Read My Mind’ and ‘My List’ both battle alongside the (now) daytime radio standards such as ‘Somebody Told Me’ and ‘Mr Brightside’ as choice community sing-songs. ‘All These Things That I’ve Done’, meanwhile, really does feel like an epic hymn of thanksgiving, for five-and-a-half minutes at least.

Possibly the only artists on the planet that can exceed The Killers right now, for sheer fanatical devotion and adulation, are U2 and Oasis. Yet Flowers et al seem to have performed the tricks of said peers in half the time or less.

Musically tighter than any proverbial creature’s rear end, The Killers really are shaping up to become the biggest band on the globe by the end of next year. Arenas and stadiums, you have been notified: prepare to be slain, as we may be witnessing the conquering of Sam’s Town today, but the wheels of war will roll to your part of the globe tomorrow.