To assess pop's direction this week, count the bands with the definite article in their names. There are more of these now than at any time in the past 20 years, perhaps in an attempt to identify with great The's (Beatles, Smiths) of times past. The Stands and the Killers each reference different eras - Merseybeat and 1980s New Wave, respectively - but are united in their conviction that it was better back then.

Las Vegas's Killers have novelty on their side in that they would be equally at home in an indie club and a casino. They deliver a great entrance, sauntering on to Elvis's Viva Las Vegas in outfits that would have the King ringing his tailor. Brandon Flowers is a treat, his Robert Smith-like melancholia amplified by a croupier outfit, but bassist Mark Stoermer comes a close second with ooh-matron eyebrow waggles and a bouffant coif. They look so cool that, inevitably, the music is a letdown. The premise - glam-rock whizzed up with Duran Duran's chilliest synth bits - is irreproachable but tonight, at least, the songs don't live up to the hair.

The Stands are part of the Liverpool renaissance that has produced the Coral and the Zutons, and have the patronage of Noel Gallagher. If the Killers are synthetic fibre, this lot are homespun cotton, with all the close harmonies and jangliness that implies. They take their city's musical heritage seriously: Howie Payne and Luke Thompson's voices emulsify into such creamy Beatlesness that one admirer repeatedly shouts, "John Lennon!" Outside Your Door is a bluesier shade of Merseybeat, and the 10-minute The Way She Does, with its dubby bassline and pulsing percussion, captures the moment when Mersey went psychedelic. What is missing from their thoroughly pleasant set, though, is presence. If they could swap personalities with the Killers, they'd be formidable.