Meet a blitz of Brits

AH, to be young and in London. Or Leeds, or Leicester....

Ever since the Beatles and their brethren got the U.S. hooked on British rock, Americans have needed their regular fix of those special qualities only U.K. bands can supply -- a play of youthful hope against grim future, a bit of a swagger, and of course a great accent.

There have been some dry spells and broken promises over the past decade, but in the wake of Franz Ferdinand’s call to arms, Britain is now shipping bands over in such numbers that it’s hard to keep track. So here’s a quick guide to eight of the key players, with the U.S. angle from Times staff writer Richard Cromelin and a British perspective provided by London correspondent Phil Sutcliffe. Bands are listed alphabetically and rated on a scale of 1 to 10.

Bloc Party

The view from L.A.: If you haven’t noticed, we Americans like to feel important, so we have no problem with being courted aggressively. Of the bands that arrived en masse this year, this London quartet has been the most persistent suitor, and it’s been rewarded with radio play and a rapidly growing audience. With Kele Okereke’s keening voice bringing a forlorn urgency to the terse images of estrangement and longing, Bloc Party evokes a gray, cold city and bristles with the determination to survive in it. Rating: 8

The view from London: Okereke was born of Nigerian parents in Liverpool, where another decent Brit band came from, but the oblique bleakness of his lyrics may arise from growing up in the denatured outskirts of London -- like the Cure’s Robert Smith, whom he vocally resembles. He and guitarist Russell Lissack have been playing together for six years, so they’re seasoned, although “Silent Alarm” is their debut album. Allusively poetic lyrics and the sparse, potent sounds from every corner of the quartet have already seen off initial United Kingdom bracketing with Franz Ferdinand, who are their friends and soul mates but not their blueprint. Rating: 8

The Futureheads

L.A.: This kind of multilayered harmony singing might trace back to Southern California’s Beach Boys, but there’s plenty of Blighty in the effervescent mix of this quartet. Its playfulness and precision suggest Gilbert & Sullivan, and it bites a bit like England’s Elvis. Other touchstones include the pop-era Who and the artful constructions of XTC. On their self-titled debut album (produced by Gang of Four guitarist Andy Gill), they step into the tradition with a chirpy effervescence and a wry undercurrent of discontent and repressed volatility. (The band plays Tuesday at the Henry Fonda Theatre.) 7.5

London: They were bred and have resolutely remained in their industrially declining northeastern hometown, Sunderland, where they sprang from a community scheme evocatively named the Detached Youth Project. Singer-guitarist Barry Hyde taught there, and his kid brother, drummer Dave, was a pupil. The basic hard punk guitars versus four-part vocals motif is striking. But their best-known track in the U.K., an inspired version of Kate Bush’s glorious “Hounds of Love,” suggests that their frenetic, angry side may have limited their potential. Oomph, insight and songwriting talent to burn, though. And those accents are definitely cute, even to Anglos. 6

Kaiser Chiefs

L.A.: The songs aren’t classics, and the playing can be a little sloppy, but they just love performing for us, and they enjoy each other so much that the bonhomie fairly flies from the stage. That scenario worked for Rod Stewart, Ron Wood and their fellow Faces some 35 years ago, and a similar spirit is the key to this Leeds band’s charm. Not that the charisma is anywhere near the Rod and Woody level, but chatterbox singer Ricky Wilson is such a tireless and ebullient ambassador that such slight, catchy tunes as “Everyday I Love You Less and Less” and “Oh My God” start sounding pretty good. 6.5

London: Highly pertinent in this context, soon after forming in 2003 Kaiser Chiefs dumped all their songs because they were writing “too American.” “High school proms”? “Homecoming queens”? We don’t got ‘em. Instead, they drew on the Kinks, Madness and Blur and started writing hangdog anti-romances like “Everyday I Love You Less and Less” (“It makes me sick to think of you undressed”). Leeds is the U.K.’s hottest music town, the original Kaiser (or rather, Kaizer) Chiefs are a South African soccer team, singer Ricky Wilson developed his showmanship in a Rolling Stones tribute band and ... I suspect my American counterpart underrates these chaps as songwriters. 7

Kasabian

L.A.: The post-Joy Division Manchester sound associated with the Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, et al was intoxicating while it lasted, which wasn’t long. So let’s thank this Leicester band for reviving it as a central feature of its pan-Britpop sound. Kasabian’s music is cluttered, catchy and relentlessly propulsive, with coherence regularly snatched from the jaws of chaos. They have some swagger, without the boorish arrogance that sank Oasis. At their recent Hollywood concert, they clapped for the audience after nearly every song. 8.5

London: Although the name grimly refers to one of Charles Manson’s “family,” in spirit Kasabian is a happy ‘60s throwback updated by rave and hip-hop. City-born, these likable enthusiasts live communally on a Midlands farm and play unannounced “guerrilla” gigs, and their rowdy, punk-electronica rock ‘n’ rolling has been approved by U.K. gods Robert Plant, Pete Townshend and the Clash’s Mick Jones. However, if you understand lyrics such as “Just cancel the chickens / And tell your son he should steal the gold” and “Chew the backbone, a solar system, these clever convicts,” er, don’t write in. 7

Keane

L.A.: Well, there’s one in every bunch. This trio actually predated most of the other bands in this roundup and has sold far more records than any of them, but by the standards of such role models as Coldplay, its saccharine-saturated, choirboy balladry is indigestible. 2

London: Triumphantly uncool in the U.K.: sold a million albums last year, and yet to read the music press you’d think nobody liked them -- seemingly because they’re posh country boys (from Battle, Sussex, near where William the Conqueror conquered us in 1066) and they don’t have a bassist or a drummer, ergo they’re not really rock. They’ve been together since 1997, but songwriter-pianist Tim Rice-Oxley still longs to come up with “a proper classic.” Until then they’ll have to make do with riches, the love of multitudes and a certain amount of critical disdain. Perhaps not too tough a row to hoe. 5

The Kills

L.A.: An anomaly in this list, the London duo partakes more of New York’s art/punk tradition and a vein of dark, bluesy Americana than any prominent strain of British rock. But Floridian Alison Mosshart and Londoner Jamie Hince (known as VV and Hotel, respectively) have become critical darlings, thanks to the mesmerizing psychodramas of erotic tension and obsession that form their live show. 9

London: Brit bands don’t have to begin with “K,” but clearly it helps. The only band on this list that actually has two albums out, the Kills preceded Franz Ferdinand on the Domino indie label and are based in London, where the principals met in 1999, but recorded in Chicago. Purveying lyrical imagery as powerfully indefinable as Bloc Party’s Kele Okereke’s, they hit you where you live more directly than any of their peers. Mosshart’s fiercely unyielding voice concentrates the emotion while Hince hammers guitar chords that make your whole body jump. Stunning and, weirdly, little noticed in the U.K. 9

Maximo Park

L.A.: There’s a furrowed-brow intensity to this Newcastle band’s music as well as a dedication to song craft that honors the tradition of the Kinks and the Smiths. Sometimes the hooks are a long time coming, but the churning, choppy, swirling sound gives an agitated edge to frontman Paul Smith’s earnest, questing lyrics. The debut album, “A Certain Trigger,” is uneven, but “Apply Some Pressure” and “The Coast Is Always Changing” are smart and memorable expressions of youthful uncertainty. Maximo Park headlines the Troubadour on June 29. 6

London: The moment you hear Maximo Park you think “pop.” They’re light and airy; they jangle. But they’re full of real-life intelligence too, as per frontman Paul Smith’s passionate insistence that “You’ve got to lay your heart on the line. Music makes me feel amazing, and I just let it surge through me.” Coming from Newcastle -- home to the Animals and Sting -- means Futureheads are neighbors and, like Kaiser Chiefs too, they wear those regional accents on their sleeves. So far their songs are solid, none of them great. But given their soulful honesty, there may be incandescence to come. 6

Razorlight

L.A.: Canceling some U.S. shows, including its L.A. debut, because of singer Johnny Borrell’s illness and/or stage fright might not be good career strategy, but it can be a good thing to have a head case in a band, if he or she can keep things together. Razorlight’s debut album consists of rudimentary, garage-y music designed to showcase Borrell’s rock-preacher spontaneity, but it rarely generates the intended sparks. Then there he was at the band’s Coachella performance, delivering a charming and compelling display of rock charisma. 5

London: “I want America, and I’ll have it,” said Jagger-like frontman Johnny Borrell last year. While his ego can be overwhelming, his intentions regarding America extend beyond bombast to practical details, such as featuring a U.S. section on the band website (emulated by several others listed here). Razorlight sometimes seem an odd mix of Lou Reed’s arty New York and the more natural-born, jaded bleat of young England. Chutzpah up the wazoo, as you fellows say (don’t you?), but a distance to go before Borrell fulfills his ambition to match “Pet Sounds” “by the time I get outta this racket.” 6