Primal Scream

Primal Scream's career could in many ways be read as a microcosm of British indie rock in the '80s and '90s. Bobby Gillespie formed the band in the mid-'80s while drumming for goth-tinged noise-rockers The Jesus and Mary Chain, who were the exact opposite of Primal Scream -- the latter specialized in infectious, jangly pop on its early records. After a brief detour to punky hard rock, the group reinvented themselves as a dance band in the early '90s, following through on the pop and acid-house fusions of the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays. With the assistance of producers Andrew Weatherall and Hugo Nicholson, Primal Scream created the ultimate indie-pop and dance fusion album, Screamadelica, in 1991. Screamadelicabroke down boundaries and changed the face of British pop music in the '90s, helping to make dance and techno acceptable to the rock mainstream. Instead of following through on the promise of the album, Primal Scream retreated to Stonest boogie for their 1994 follow-up Give Out But Don't Give Up. When that record was greeted with indifference, they returned to dance-rock fusions with 1997's Vanishing Point, which re-established the group as a major force in British rock

Badly Drawn Boy

Oftentimes ineptitude can be mistaken for brilliance, when the warped ramblings of a dilettante become confused for worthwhile innovation. This, happily, is not the case with Badly Drawn Boy, the latest winner of the ultra-prestigious Mercury Music Prize. There are a couple of instances on this disc in which the band's principal (and only) member, Damon Gough, straddles that wiggly line between the nonsensical and the sublime, but by and large, The Hour of Bewilderbeast is a remarkably refreshing creative achievement.

Since debuting with this album in the United Kingdom earlier this year, Gough has been likened to monomaniacal creators like Nick Drake, Sebadoh, and Elliott Smith, all of whom factor into Gough's quirky, melodic craftsmanship. In songs like "Stone on the Water," his shimmering acoustic guitar and sad cello overlay echo the sound of his brooding hero Drake, while "Another Pearl" resonates with the kind of post-punk indie rock sound championed by bands like Sebadoh and Guided by Voices. Between tracks, on odd little segues and doodles, Gough indulges his darker, more idiosyncratic sides, most effectively on the excellent, Beatles-esque "Blistered Heart" and the accordion anthem "Bewilder." These moments are giddy, evocative interludes that set the listener up for the songwriter's truest moments, songs like the lounge-y pop gem "Once Around the Block," the Paul Simon-styled "This Song," and the glorious acoustic "Camping Next to Water."

There's a spontaneity about The Hour of Bewilderbeast, a virtual effortlessness on Gough's behalf, that transforms the record from a typical independent project to a gift from an immensely talented artist

Doves

It's not surprising that the three Manchester lads who make up the Doves cut their teeth on the acid house that was the soundtrack to early-'90s British nightlife. While there is little in the music of Lost Souls that represents the electronica explosion of 2000, the album bridges the gap between bass-laden dance music and the raw, jangly throwback pop of fellow Manchester-ites Oasis. It is the perfect down-tempo companion to rousing rock and roll — a lush, eerie lullaby to an over-addled generation of clubbers and rave kids.

Formed out of the ashes of popular Brit dance band Sub Sub — some might remember its one charting U.K. hit, "Ain't No Love (Ain't No Use)" — the Doves opted out of the dance music arena after a studio fire destroyed the master tapes of the group's second album. A series of EPs followed, where the band paid as much attention to the limited-edition packaging as to the music. But now, with Lost Souls, the packaging is standard; the music is anything but.

Opening with the spacey, instrumental "Firesuite," Lost Souls lays its cards on the table early. This is not an album of cranked guitars that go to 11. Rather, it's an album of highly arranged, quiet rock that offers nods to a multitude of unlikely musical bedfellows: low rock meets prog rock, punks sidle up next to neo-folkies — all kept in time by the Ringo-esque rhythms of drummer Andy Williams. He is joined in the Doves by guitarist-brother Jez and school pal Jimi Goodwin on bass and vocals.

While the Doves are performing often melancholy rock, numerous tracks are as uplifting as they are musically bare. "Melody Calls" raises the spirits as it becomes frontrunner for Britpop arena sing-along of the year. And while the production on Lost Souls often obscures the vocals of Jimi Goodwin and Andy Williams with echo effects and other electronic flourishes, the Doves occasionally break through with a song of perfect clarity, like "A House," a gloomy song that concludes on the upswing. Sung by Goodwin, a horrible experience is tempered by the knowledge that life does go on. "I try and see the good in everyone," he sings. "If I ever find myself here again/ I'll give everything."

Lost Souls is inescapably simple in its success: Three guys, 15 songs, seamlessly pleasing from start to finish. There are myriad complex layers beneath the songs, for sure. But why look too hard? Sometimes it's just best to sit back and let the music wash over you