By definition, most bands, either instinctively or through corporate/management manipulation, present a unified image. Doesn’t matter whether you’re a girl pop or doo wop band, black metal demonists, free-range Woodstockians, Converse-gazing hipsters, hairspray hedonists, mopey goths, crusty biker speedheads — the whole rock aesthetic is to present a unified “us against them” or at least “here we are — and you’re not as cool” identity.

And then there are The Killers.

I’m not sure it made much difference to the 10,000 delirious fans in the Mohegan Sun Arena Thursday — because The Killers frankly put on an almost-two-hour show of rousing, incredibly addictive and finely crafted anthems — but, man, if you saw these guys walking into a KFC together, you’d never peg them for a band.

There was front man Brandon Flowers, in a sparkly blazer and cowboy boots, looking for all the world as though James Dean had a Mormon little brother who learned everything about being onstage from watching episodes of “Glee.” Flowers is a fine and distinctive melodist who’s perfectly aware that he has just a smidgen of goofy charm that keeps his in-performance rock star-isms grounded in an Everyman innocence.

Then there are co-founders Dave Keunig (guitar), Ronnie Vanucci, Jr. (drums) and Mark Stoermer (bass). All three play and sing wonderfully in support of the group’s singular fusion of styles — the sonic equivalent of mid-period John Mellencamp force-feeding Duran Duran and New Order pot roast and mashed potatoes. On Thursday, though, Keunig and Stoermer sort of stayed on their respective sides of the stage, doing their jobs with quiet efficiency and looking mostly as though they’d called ELO’s Jeff Lynne for sartorial and grooming advice. Vanucci, a powerhouse percussionist, at least tossed drum sticks and a floral bouquet to add a bit of personality. But he was flanked in back-tier risers by two nameless support dudes on keys and guitars. They may have been robots.

I suppose the formula of a Killers live show — which took place on a sparse black stage with plenty of twirling Vari-lights but no video screens or other Big Production effects so typical these days — is to play their collective asses off and let Flowers do the bulk of the “audience connection.”

Well, however peculiar — at least to me, a moderate fan — it clearly works. Though Flowers showed occasional vocal strain on “Bones” and “Somebody Told Me,” the overall presentation sounded tremendous across a litany of great tunes including “The Way It Was,” “Spaceman,” “Smile Like You Mean It,” “Human,” the Joy Division cover “Shadowplay,” “A Dustland Fairytale,” “All These Things That I’ve Done,” “Mr. Brightside,” “When You Were Young” and on and on.

Watching the euphoric crowd — a representative snapshot of which would include “family outing” foursomes, Bowdoin-type dudes with backwards Polo logo ballcaps, women who sighed, realizing they were 18 when “Somebody Told Me” came out more than half a lifetime ago, and the loneliest black guy in the world — it was pleasing to note that, no matter how weird the world gets, we all have soundtracks to our lives. For a lot of folks, those tunes come courtesy of The Killers.