Maturity always seemed an alien concept to Oasis. The brothers Gallagher may have worshiped music made before their birth but there was no respect to their love: they stormed the rock & roll kingdom with no regard for anyone outside themselves, a narcissism that made perfect sense when they were young punks, as youth wears rebellion well, but the group's trump card was how their snottiness was leveled by their foundation in classic pop. This delicate balance was thrown out of whack after the phenomenal success of 1995's (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, when the group sunk into a pit of excess that they couldn't completely escape for almost a full decade. When Oasis did begin to re-emerge on 2005's Don't Believe the Truth they sounded like journeymen, purveyors of no-frills rock & roll. All this makes the wallop of 2008's Dig Out Your Soul all the more bracing. Colorful and dense where Don't Believe the Truth was straightforward, Dig Out Your Soul finds Oasis reconnecting to the churning psychedelic undercurrents in their music, sounds that derive equally from mid-period Beatles and early Verve. This is heavy, murky music, as dense, brutal, and loud as Oasis has ever been, building upon the swagger of Don't Believe and containing not a hint of the hazy drift of their late-'90s records: it's what Be Here Now would have sounded like without the blizzard of cocaine and electronica paranoia. Dig Out Your Soul doesn't have much arrogance, either, as Oasis' strut has mellowed into an off-hand confidence, just like how Noel Gallagher's hero worship has turned into a distinct signature of his own, as his Beatlesque songs sound like nobody else's, not even the Beatles. His only real rival at this thick, surging pop is his brother Liam, who has proven a sturdy, if not especially flashy songwriter with a knack for candied Lennonesque ballads like "I'm Outta Time." To appreciate what Liam does, turn to Gem Archer's "To Be Where There's Life" and Andy Bell's "The Nature of Reality," which are enjoyable enough Oasis-by-numbers, but Liam's numbers resonate, getting stronger with repeated plays, as the best Oasis songs always do. But, as it always does, Oasis belongs to Noel Gallagher, who pens six of the 11 songs on Dig Out Your Soul, almost every one of them possessing the same sense of inevitability that marked his best early work. Best among these are the titanic stomp of "Waiting for the Rapture" and the quicksilver kaleidoscope of "The Shock of the Lightning," a pair of songs that rank among his best, but the grinding blues-psych of "Bag It Up" and gently cascading "The Turning" aren't far behind, either. These have the large, enveloping melodies so characteristic of this work and what impresses is that he can still make music that sounds not written, but unearthed. These six tunes are Noel's strongest since Morning Glory -- so strong it's hard not to wish he wrote the whole LP himself -- but what's striking about Dig Out Your Soul is how its relentless onslaught of sound proves as enduring as the tunes. This is the sound of a mature yet restless rock band: all the brawn comes from the guitars, all the snarl comes from Liam Gallagher's vocals, who no longer sounds like a young punk but an aged, battered brawler who wears his scars proudly, which is a sentiment that can apply to the band itself. They're now survivors, filling out the vintage threads they've always worn with muscle and unapologetic style. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
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. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
The official party line goes a little like this: sure, Be Here Now was bloated, but the boys were indulging in their phenomenal success at the time and, yeah, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants was a little uneven, but that was essentially due to overcompensation on the corrective steering, plus the defection of two founding members, so 2002's Heathen Chemistry -- the band's fifth album -- is where Oasis returns to form and starts acting like a band again (hell, not only does Liam contribute three songs, but so does bassist Gem Archer, while Andy Bell throws in a minute-long instrumental). If only it were that simple. First of all, this, like Giants, is produced by Oasis and mixed by Mark "Spike" Stent, so it should come as no surprise that it sounds like that album, only without the slight electronica flourishes, since the band is determined to make this their rock & roll comeback. But that Stent-mixed, Noel-helmed production is big and diffuse, sounding enormous and vaguely psychedelic. When it's matched with the right song -- such as the swirling, majestically nonsensical opener "The Hindu Times" -- it can be an addictive sound, but often it's mismatched with the songs; the sound expands the songs too much and they lose focus and dynamic, whether it's the muted "Digsy's Dinner" stomp of "Force of Nature" (a solo Noel tune unearthed from a 2000 soundtrack for a British-only Jude Law film), epic ballads ("Little by Little"), stabs at sweeping psychedelia ("Born on a Different Cloud"), or rockers (including the Stone Roses-meets-the Stones closer "Better Man"). These are songs that desperately need some kind of definition from their production, since they're Noel-by-numbers (even when they're tunes written by Liam): pleasant, moderately tuneful, but not too hooky, or memorable (especially in this setting), and their deficiencies are brought into relief by the times that he really connects -- the guitar-heavy drone of "(Probably) All in the Mind," a pretty good power ballad in "Stop Crying Your Heart Out," the delightfully unassuming "She Is Love" (sounding as refreshing here as "Rocking Chair" and "Talk Tonight" used to sound as B-sides), and "The Hindu Times," holding up the trend of the last three albums of having Oasis leading with their best song as the first single -- plus Liam's "Songbird," a wonderful, sweet country-rock tune that's easily the second best here. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
The Gallagher brothers' boundless, boorish, boasting bluster and blather only felt like brazen British working class moxie as long as they made great records that backed up their obnoxious arrogance. So when the songwriting fell off the last six years, on the bloated Be Here Now and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, it was like watching helium hiss out of an overstuffed blimp. After all the bellicose babble, and the posturing prattle, Oasis's U.S. sales plummeted like the Hindenberg over Lakehurst. The pompous Wizard has been exposed and humbled, bringing joy to thousands of Totos tugging on Oasis's huffy pantleg, glad to see such massive egos get stuffed like smelly socks back up their big mouths. So leave it to Oasis to resort to the biggest, emptiest rock gesture of all: the huge-stadium live LP! Their popularity remains unchanged in home England, which still worships the group uncritically like the equally-diminished, figurehead Royal Family. So the brothers give us this document of Wembly stadium and its Canyonesque acoustics, with its cheering, singing throngs of 70,000 people. Just contemplating the 98-minute, double CD Familiar to Millions, you think, "They don't get it, do they?" So how come the group were actually able to pull this off, instead of dropping an overbearing embarrassment on us? It's because Oasis always deliver their material with conviction live, with the music as the focus in lieu of some bogus floor-show. And because they play a best-of set, going all the way back to their initial singles "Supersonic" and "Shakermaker," and such enduring tunes as "Acquiesce," "Roll With It," and "Live Forever," Familiar is a reminder of the substance they retain, even as they doggy-paddle along, stuck for bearings. Strong Noel-sung covers of Neil Young's "Hey Hey, My My" and The Beatles' "Helter Skelter" are also delivered in their hard-working, serve-the-song demeanor-this is no ghastly Rattle and Hum trip. Most of all, the band plays well. New key member Andy Bell, late of early-'90s fantastic favorites Ride (let's forget Hurricane #1) is twice the bassist Paul McGuigan was, so the loss of three-fifths of the original lineup has actually tightened them up. The band's strengths-Noel's hooks and Liam's strong, gruff, accented vocals-come to the fore, while the weaknesses-inferior material-are weeded out like it they were never written. Hell, only five of these 18 songs are post-1995, one of which, "Gas Panic!" (which sounds like it's sung by Bell, hurrah!), sounds vintage. It still would have been better to record at a rock theater or hall. This sounds a tad hollow, even though the guitars are so meaty-rare for a stadium tape. But if Oasis has been staggered here by a punch they invited (we'll see if they get off the canvas or not, as the siblings keep snipping at each other), Familiar shows they went down fighting as a touring live band. And with the mainstream rock scene as dire as it is now, we could still use them. ~ Jack Rabid, The Big Takeover, All Music Guide
Since Noel Gallagher plays most of the parts on the album, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants isn't really the debut of the new, post-Guigsy/Bonehead lineup, but it is clearly the beginning of Oasis, Mark II. Such a grandiose statement may imply that it's a clear break from Oasis' past, yet that's hardly the case, since many signatures are still in place -- strummed acoustic guitars, big hooks, undeveloped lyrics, familiar rhymes, and a gigantic wall of sound. The arrangements are every bit as detailed as Be Here Now, but they're clearer and better focused, since Oasis' brains weren't clouded with excess and hubris. Ironically, this is also their most overtly druggy, psychedelic release to date -- Gallagher and Mark "Spike" Stent spent endless hours adding Mellotrons, swirling guitars, and vague dancefloor ideas borrowed from the Chemical Brothers and the Charlatans UK, while Noel's melodies invariably follow the minor-key patterns typical of '60s psychedelic pop. Yet for all of its heavy psychedelic influence, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants is really a self-consciously mature departure from the group's usual ebullience, a deliberately mellow, mid-tempo album spiked with hints of big beat and electronica to prove that they're with it. This may result in the most cohesive Oasis record since Definitely Maybe, but that cohesion has come at a price. Few songs are as bracing as Noel's best work from the first three albums; not even the rockers have the giddy rush or alluring sparkle of classic Oasis. Yes, this flows well, but it's the work of a self-consciously older band and it's hard not to miss the hard rock, pure attitude, and gigantic hooks that made the group's reputation in the first place. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Arriving with the force of a hurricane, Oasis' third album, Be Here Now, is a bright, bold, colorful tour de force that simply steamrolls over any criticism. The key to Oasis' sound is its inevitability -- they are unwavering in their confidence, which means that even the hardest rockers are slow, steady, and heavy, not fast. And that self-possessed confidence, that belief in their greatness, makes Be Here Now intensely enjoyable, even though it offers no real songwriting breakthroughs. Noel Gallagher remains a remarkably talented synthesist, bringing together disparate strands -- "D'You Know What I Mean" has an N.W.A drum loop, a Zeppelin-esque wall of guitars, electronica gurgles, and lyrical allusions to the Beatles and Dylan -- to create impossibly catchy songs that sound fresh, no matter how many older songs he references. He may be working familiar territory throughout Be Here Now, but it doesn't matter because the craftsmanship is good. "The Girl in the Dirty Shirt" is irresistible pop, and epics like "Magic Pie" and "All Around the World" simply soar, while the rockers "My Big Mouth," "It's Getting Better (Man!!)," and "Be Here Now" attack with a bone-crunching force. Noel is smart enough to balance his classicist tendencies with spacious, open production, filling the album with found sounds, layers of guitars, keyboards, and strings, giving the record its humongous, immediate feel. The sprawling sound and huge melodic hooks would be enough to make Be Here Now a winner, but Liam Gallagher's vocals give the album emotional resonance. Singing better than ever, Liam injects venom into the rockers, but he also delivers the nakedly emotional lyrics of "Don't Go Away" with affecting vulnerability. That combination of violence and sensitivity gives Oasis an emotional core and makes Be Here Now a triumphant album. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
If Definitely Maybe was an unintentional concept album about wanting to be a rock & roll star, (What's the Story) Morning Glory? is what happens after the dreams come true. Oasis turns in a relatively introspective second record, filled with big, gorgeous ballads instead of ripping rockers. Unlike Definitely Maybe, the production on Morning Glory is varied enough to handle the range in emotions; instead of drowning everything with amplifiers turned up to 12, there are strings, keyboards, and harmonicas. This expanded production helps give Noel Gallagher's sweeping melodies an emotional resonance that he occasionally can't convey lyrically. However, that is far from a fatal flaw; Gallagher's lyrics work best in fragments, where the images catch in your mind and grow, thanks to the music. Gallagher may be guilty of some borrowing, or even plagiarism, but he uses the familiar riffs as building blocks. This is where his genius lies: He's a thief and doesn't have many original thoughts, but as a pop/rock melodicist he's pretty much without peer. Likewise, as musicians, Oasis are hardly innovators, yet they have a majestic grandeur in their sound that makes ballads like "Wonderwall" or rockers like "Some Might Say" positively transcendent. Alan White does add authority to the rhythm section, but the most noticeable change is in Liam Gallagher. His voice sneered throughout Definitely Maybe, but on Morning Glory his singing has become more textured and skillful. He gives the lyric in the raging title track a hint of regret, is sympathetic on "Wonderwall," defiant on "Some Might Say," and humorous on "She's Electric," a bawdy rewrite of "Digsy's Diner." It might not have the immediate impact of Definitely Maybe, but Morning Glory is just as exciting and compulsively listenable. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Definitely Maybe manages to encapsulate much of the best of British rock & roll -- from the Beatles to the Stone Roses -- in the space of 11 songs. Oasis' sound is louder and more guitar-oriented than any British band since the Sex Pistols, and the band is blessed with the excellent songwriting of Noel Gallagher. Gallagher writes perfect pop songs, offering a platform for his brother Liam's brash, snarling vocals. Not only does the band have melodies, but they have the capability to work a groove with more dexterity than most post-punk groups. But what makes Definitely Maybe so intoxicating is that it already resembles a greatest-hits album. From the swirling rush of "Rock 'n' Roll Star," through the sinewy "Shakermaker," to the heartbreaking "Live Forever," each song sounds like an instant classic. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide