You can almost imagine the delight when some bright spark suggested the Killers launch their big comeback in the "Vegas of the North", and the bemusement when the Las Vegas band arrived there to be confronted by donkey riders and kiss me quick hats. However, in some ways Blackpool is the Killers' spiritual home. The seaside town is a pebble's throw from Manchester, which spawned the band's key influences: Joy Division and New Order. Similarly, the Killers' songs - troubled and lonely, but hugely anthemic - are as close as anything to the sound of an unlikely Joy Division rave-up at a seaside "nitespot".
This gig epitomises the mix of tack and glamour that the Killers - and Blackpool - do so well. The stage is festooned with a fairy-light approximation of the town's Christmas illuminations. Frontman Brandon Flowers has traded in his pink jacket and Kohl for a rakish Sherlock Holmes smoking outfit and a sliver of a 'tache that will do no harm to his inner Freddie Mercury.
Flowers and cohorts are here to launch Sam's Town, the follow-up to the mega-selling debut album Hot Fuss, which grabs even harder at the commercial jugular, at every opportunity. Flowers places a hand on his heart to illustrate a lyric, smiles like he means it in Smile Like You Mean It and, at one point, even pushes guitarist Dave Keuning to the front of the stage to ensure that the riff to Mr Brightside is hammered home.
However, the new songs - in which Killer choruses are sprinkled with a new widescreen Americana - justify a further ascent. When You Were Young crashes over waves of synthesisers. Bones - built around Flowers' "Don't you wanna come with me?" teaser - is an instant classic. Taking on a second keyboard player has allowed the keyboard-vocalist to concentrate more on his singing, and although Bling (Confessions of a King) has a vaguely Simple Minds feel, Flowers avoids empty triumphalism. Instead, lyrics yearning to break "out of this tombstone town", in Read My Mind, conjure the giddy escapism of a last night at the fair.
The lights erupt to bathe the band and audience during the old favourite All These Things That I've Done. The line "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" still doesn't make much sense, but it obviously strikes some existential chord with the audience, who continue to sing it long into the night.
