A Well-Oiled Machine - The Killers, Live at Barclaycard Presents BST Hyde Park

Kicking off the nostalgia party are Mystery Jets, a group who ambitiously combined off-kilter indie-disco with psych and prog influences in a era where landfill indie was firmly in the ascendant. Admittedly, it's not entirely clear why the lead singer of a band from Twickenham has channelled a "SoCal weed dealer" aesthetic this afternoon, but they deliver a confident, compelling performance that underlines how regrettable their fall into (relative) obscurity happened to be. Cold War Kids, a hype band from a similar era from across the pond, also impress with their blues-infused alt-rock, though the uncompromisingly rough-hewn harmonies they showcased on Robbers and Cowards have been noticeably smoothed down over the years.

Over on the Barclaycard Stage, Mew, shorn of their visuals and clad all in black may strike one as a rather forbidding proposition, but their dreamy Danish art-rock proves a delightful palette-cleanser before the synth-tastic might of Eighties legends Tears For Fears, who play their first London show in twelve years. Between stone-cold classics "Everybody Wants To Rule The World", "Head Over Heels" and "Mad World", they find room to cover "Creep" (a habit, allegedly, borne of a desire to troll Thom Yorke), before a rousing rendition of 1985's "Shout" gives the parents dragged here by their kids their moment to shine.

A few more grand ol' sing-alongs come courtesy of avuncular Mancunians Elbow, who appear to have found a niche playing second-fiddle to festival headliners. There's some truth to the stereotype that their oeuvre is relentlessly dad-core, but Guy Garvey is a dab hand at working an audience, and the "Hey Jude"-inspired refrain of "One Day Like This", hackneyed as it is, gets warmed up for the main event in wonderful style.

Having said that, The Killers are more than capable of warming up a crowd by themselves. Clad in a pink suit so vivid it surely scarred the retinas of anyone within a half-mile radius, Brandon Flowers is the consummate frontman - charming, energetic and utterly engaged. One gets the impression he's somewhat of a perfectionist, focused on delivering the optimum experience for fans rather than simply going through the motions like so many of his peers. In many respects that's a positive. A well-paced setlist, encompassing their four studio albums (as well as disco-revivalist new single "The Man") keeps the tempo brisk, and the staging and visuals, whilst not wildly imaginative, are worthy of a band of their stature.

Yet there's just a little too much polish; the trade-off between slickness and soul occasionally manifests itself as blandness. The Killers live show is an impressively well-oiled machine, but the Vegas razzmatazz that lies deep within the band's DNA does not lend itself well to edge. There are undoubtedly some individually euphoric moments (not least "Mr Brightside"), but overall the set lacks that je ne sais quoi that elevates a great performance to an all-time classic. Nonetheless, it's a thoroughly enjoyable climax to eight fantastic hours of music that reaffirmed, in case I ever forgot, that it's indie rock and roll for me.