Since
Oasis
has an instantly identifiable, seemingly simple signature sound --
gigantic, lumbering, melodic, and inevitable, as if their songs have
always existed and always will -- it can be hard to pinpoint what
separates a great
Oasis
song from a merely mediocre tune. It could be anything from overblown
production to a diminished swagger, or it could be a self-satisfied
laziness in the songwriting, or a panicky attempt to update their
defiantly classicist pop with an electronic shine. All of these problems
plagued the group's records since their blockbuster 1995 blockbuster
second album,
(What's the Story) Morning Glory?, and while none of the three albums that followed were outright bad, by 2002's
Heathen Chemistry it seemed that even
Noel and
Liam Gallagher had lost sight of what made
Oasis
great. While that record had its moments, it often seemed generic,
suggesting that the group had painted itself into a corner, not knowing
where to go next. Surely, all the reports from the recording of their
long-gestating sixth album suggested a faint air of desperation. First,
the electronica duo
Death in Vegas was brought in as producers, bringing to mind the band's awkward attempts at electronica fusion on
Be Here Now and
Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, but those recordings were scrapped, and then their second drummer,
Alan White, left only to be replaced by
Zak Starkey, the son of
Ringo Starr, suggesting that the Gallaghers were coming perilously close to being swallowed by their perennial
Beatles fixation.
All of which makes the resulting album,
Don't Believe the Truth, a real shock. It's confident, muscular, uncluttered, tight, and tuneful in a way
Oasis haven't been since
Morning Glory.
It doesn't feel labored nor does it sound as if they're deliberately
trying to recreate past glories. Instead, it sounds like they've
remembered what they love about rock & roll and why they make music.
They sound reinvigorated, which is perhaps appropriate, because
Don't Believe the Truth finds
Oasis to be quite a different band than it was a decade ago. Surely,
Noel
is still the first among equals, writing the majority of the songs here
and providing the musical direction that the rest follow, but his
brother
Liam, bassist
Andy Bell, and guitarist Gem Archer are now full and equal partners, and the band is the better for it. Where
Noel struggled to fill the post-
Morning Glory albums with passable album tracks (having squandered his backlog of great songs on B-sides), he's now happy to have
Bell and Archer write
Noel
soundalikes that are sturdier than the filler he's created over the
last five years. These likeable tunes are given soul and fire by
Liam,
who not only reclaims his crown as the best singer in rock on this
album, but comes into his own as a songwriter. He had written good songs
before, but here he holds his own with his brother, writing lively,
hooky, memorable songs with "Love Like a Bomb," "The Meaning of Soul,"
and "Guess God Thinks I'm Abel," which are as good as anything
Noel has written for the album. Which is not an aspersion on
Noel,
who has a set of five songs that cut for cut are his strongest and
liveliest in years. Whether it's the insistent stomp of "Mucky Fingers"
or the
Kinks-styled romp of "The Importance of Being Idle," these songs are so good it makes sense that
Noel
has kept them for himself, singing four of the five tunes himself
(including the soaring closing duet "Let There Be Love," the brothers'
best joint vocal since "Acquiesce"). But the key to this new incarnation
of
Oasis is that this move by
Noel doesn't seem like he's hoarding his best numbers, or a way to instigate sibling rivalry with
Liam. Instead, it emphasizes that
Oasis
is now a genuine band, a group of personalities that form together to
form one gang of charming rogues. Apart from the tremendous, rambling
"Lyla" that channels the spirit of
the Faces and the occasional ramshackle echo of
Beggars Banquet, there's not much musically different here than other
Oasis albums -- it's still a blend of British Invasion,
the Jam, and
the Smiths, all turned to 11 -- but their stubborn fondness of classic British guitar pop is one of the things that makes
Oasis great and lovable. And, of course, it's also what makes it hard to discern exactly what separates good from great
Oasis,
but all the little details here, from the consistent songwriting to the
loose, comfortable arrangements and the return of their trademark
bravado makes
Don't Believe the Truth the closest
Oasis has been to great since the summer of Britpop, when they were the biggest and best band in the world.
tags: oasis, dont believe the truth, 2005, flac, don't,