I realize the Kills are probably pretty passe, but there’s no getting around that they were a last minute breath of fresh air on a sluggish Sunday populated primarily by a lineup that was far less enticing than the preceding two days. Alison Mosshart has an awesomely swaggering stage presence, and — performing in front of a giant jaguar print banner draped at the back of the stage — emitted a much more natural aura of cool than, say, Julian Casablancas looking totally lost with his solo backing band the Voidz on Friday. She and Jamie Hince were flanked by four drummers pounding away on low toms in careful patterns. Combined with Hince’s reliable slabs of distorted guitar, the interlocking drum patterns gave the whole set — if I’m going to keep comparing them to other sets I disliked — a more believably primal quality than, say, Jack White’s histrionic blues caterwauling the night before. I was starting to feel pretty checked out by Sunday evening, and the Kills were a much needed jolt to the system, and one of the sets at which I had the most fun. This is a prime example of a band I probably wouldn’t sit around listening to, but loved seeing live, which strikes me as a mark of an excellent festival set.