Dreaming of pop stars

The Killers have clearly been advertised a lot in my face recently as they made it into my dreams the other night.
There was a gig in a field - with a wooden bar with beer pumps set up where the stage should be. After I stole a handful of badges from their merch stall - which was housed inside a red phone box - I made my way to the very front. There was a fight to be as close to the band as possible.
The bar remained where the stage was - suddenly the members of The Killers who arent Brandon Flowers (Well, can you name them? I consider myself a fair bit of a fan but I'm jiggered if I can! ) appeared dutifully to pull pints of ale.
My friends gave me their requests - suddenly I was faced with the prospect of relaying the order to Brandon Flowers -
'I'll have a Guinness, a whisky, and a gherkin, please.'