The Killers might hail from one of the USA's most quintessentially American cities (Las Vegas), but their debut album Hot Fuss displays an Anglophilic streak that is an ocean wide. Steeped in the back-catalogue of the Smiths and Pulp, with broad 80s synth sweeps cloaking each tale of fraught metrosexual romance, this band clearly rate the swoon over the swagger.
 
Still, this is almost entirely an upbeat record, one made for the packed club than the smoky VIP room; in particular On Top, Somebody Told Me and Mr Brightside are tremendous examples of breathless indie-pop that gallop along like a lovestuck heartbeat with frontman Brandon Flowers gasping for breath on the claustrophobic disco floor. This is, inarguably, what the Killers do best.