Barnes & Noble
If you needed any more proof that the English are, well, different, just consider the fact that the land's tastemakers just handed the annual Mercury Prize -- think a combination of the Grammy and a rock Nobel -- to this oddly compelling bit of low-fi navel-gazing. Badly Drawn Boy, the nom de disque of a skittish lad named Damon Gough, manages to forge a downbeat yet friendly fusion of Guided by Voices' Bob Pollard and Burt Bacharach, dogged in both its soul-baring and its pop savvy. For the most part, The Hour of Bewilderbeast is a quiet pleasure, with songs such as "The Shining" and "Bewilderbeast" languidly coasting on streams of piano, strings, and oboe. Although largely soothing, it's not all easy listening, as borne out by the forlorn strains of "Pissing in the Wind," on which Gough accompanies himself on little more than acoustic guitar, and "Magic in the Air," which creates the same ambience with solo piano. Gough is less successful when he takes a stab at rocking out, after a fashion, on songs such as "Everybody's Stalking," which manages to pump up the volume without noticeably cranking up the energy level. But when he locks the door and shuts off the electricity, Gough elevates himself to the top ranks of Brit eccentrics -- so roll over Robyn Hitchcock and tell yer pal Momus the news. David Sprague
All Music Guide
What has the field of lo-fi slacker pop come to when faced by an LP as ambitious and entertaining as Badly Drawn Boy's The Hour of Bewilderbeast? Despite all attempts to sabotage his songwriting and production with innumerable experimental tidbits, songs within a song, and (seemingly) tossed-off arrangements, Damon Gough has to face the fact that he wrote and produced over a dozen excellent songs of baroque folk-pop for his album debut, and the many gems can't help but shine through all the self-indulgence. The sprightly orchestration for cello and trumpet (Gough's own) that begin the album are eventually taken over by the sparse guitar pickings and wistful folky sunshine of "The Shining," which veers into the skewed slide guitar and ominous tone of "Everybody's Stalking." Gough rarely pauses for breath (even when he's doing a ballad) or follows any traditional sense of album flow, but after a listen or two, The Hour of Bewilderbeast is revealed as a shambling masterpiece of a pop album. Most of these songs are Gough's entirely (he plays as many as eight instruments), with occasional help from friends like Twisted Nerve co-labelhead Andy Votel and assorted drummers for accompaniment. His songwriting is great, but Gough's twisted sense of humor helps the album shine as well, as on "Fall in a River," where the down-a-lazy-river feel carries through to the point where not just Gough but the entire production is submerged with a splash and attendant warping of the sound. The Hour of Bewilderbeast surely isn't a traditional pop album, but a continually beguiling trip through lo-fi postmodern folk that draws as much from Harry Nilsson as Beck. John Bush
Rolling Stone
...sweet, gently burning songs. Pat Blashill
Entertainment Weekly
The Hour of Bewilderbeast feels as confident as a love letter or e-mail yet is still universal an intimate hour thatıs far from bewildering. David Browne