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