When Will I Be Famous? Just Jack, The Keys, The Thrills

Jack is now the nation's favourite name for lads, so Camden's own Jack Allsopp is off to a flyer. Lazily, though not inaccurately, described as a cross between The Streets and early Massive Attack, his debut album The Outer Marker has been deservedly praised, while a rather stunning soundclash mix of his tune "Snowflakes", uncannily positioning his vocals (and a chorus reminiscent of Prince) over The Cure's "Lullaby", has already picked up enough airplay to give it a chart chance next month. In this peculiar lunchtime showcase, the gangling youth fronts a band of seasoned pros (including a bassist whom I swear I saw working behind S Club 7 last year) before a gaggle of industry types. But the single's worth is undeniable in whatever form, and the brave attempt at "Triple Tone Eyes", on record a perfect example of a rhythm that only machines can play, proves the quality of his best tunes.

Matthew Evans and Gwion Rowlands of Cardiff's Keys were previously in the underrated Murry The Hump, perennial John Peel favourites whose live shows always effortlessly veered between the hopeless and the wonderful. Considerably more competent in this guise, they mine ancient sounds that not even The Coral have bothered to rediscover, quite shamelessly paying tribute to the harmonies of the Everly Brothers and even, at one point, launching into the hook of the Shadows' classic "Apache". Welsh country rock may not be everyone's idea of the next big thing, but for one glorious moment, when Rowlands and the bassist swap instruments, they could physically pass as Teenage Fanclub, at least at a distance. Certainly, their melodic debut single, "Gurl Next Door", shows plenty of promise, and Evans is a witty and endearingly specific lyricist.

Unexpectedly, then, gentle country-inflected rock seems to be in fashion. The Thrills, from Dublin, mine a similar vein. Their excitable yet mellow debut single, "Santa Cruz", is but one of the tributes to their new base in California. (Other tunes include the possibly insulting "Your Love is like Las Vegas" – what does that mean? It's seedy? It separates the singer from his money?) They're already fancied by that other SoCal exile Morrissey, and the great and good (well, Noel Gallagher and a gaggle of hacks) are out tonight to see the band hurry through their first London headline show.

The organist, Kevin Horan, dominates the sound, his impressive licks as comforting as those on an old Dylan record, while the guitarist, Daniel Ryan, skronks as well as he jangles. I can't exactly see the point of them, at least while Teenage Fanclub records (them again) are available, but songs such as their next single, "One Horse Town", and the epic "Big Sur" easily justify their existence, if not the concomitant hype.