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Oasis

 

Biography by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

Oasis shot from obscurity to stardom in 1994, becoming one of Britain's most popular and critically acclaimed bands of the decade; along with Blur and Suede, they are responsible for returning British guitar pop to the top of the charts. Led by guitarist/songwriter Noel Gallagher, the Manchester quintet adopts the rough, thuggish image of the Stones and the Who, crosses it with "Beatlesque" melodies and hooks, distinctly British lyrical themes and song structures like the Jam and the Kinks, and ties it all together with a massive, loud guitar roar, as well as a defiant sneer that draws equally from the Sex Pistols' rebelliousness and the Stone Roses' cocksure arrogance. Gallagher's songs frequently rework previous hits from T. Rex ("Cigarettes and Alcohol" borrows the riff from "Bang a Gong") to Wham! ("Fade Away" takes the melody from "Freedom"), yet the group always puts the hooks in different settings, updating past hits for a new era.

 

Originally, the group was formed by schoolmates Liam Gallagher (vocals), Paul "Bonehead" Arthurs (guitar), Paul McGuigan (bass), and Tony McCaroll (drums). After spending several years as the guitar technician for the Stone Roses-inspired group the Inspiral Carpets, Noel Gallagher returned to Manchester to find that his brother had formed a band. Noel agreed to join the band if he could have complete control of the group, including contributing all the songs; the rest of the band agreed and under the new name Oasis, they began a year of intensive rehearsing.

 

After playing a handful of small club gigs, the band cornered Alan McGee, the head of Creation Records, and forced him to listen to their demo. Impressed, he signed the band. The group released their first single, "Supersonic," in the spring of 1994; it edged its way into the charts on the back of positive reviews. With a melody adapted from "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing," "Shakermaker" became a bigger hit in the early summer. Released a month before their debut album, the soaring ballad "Live Forever" became a major hit in England. The group's first record, Definitely Maybe, became the fastest-selling debut in British history, entering the charts at number one. Oasis mania continued throughout 1994, as the group began playing larger theaters and each new single outperformed the last. However, tensions in the group began to build — Liam and Noel refused to do joint interviews because they always fought — and Noel Gallagher briefly left the band at the end of a difficult fall American tour; he soon re-joined and the band headed back to England. As "Supersonic" began to climb the U.S. album rock and modern rock charts, the non-LP, string-laden "Whatever" hit number two over the British Christmas season.

 

At the beginning of 1995, the group concentrated on America, promoting the single "Live Forever." The song became a major hit on MTV, album rock, and modern rock radio stations, peaking at number two, and Definitely Maybe went gold in the U.S. Returning to England after a sold-out American tour, the group recorded a new single, "Some Might Say." On the eve of its release, drummer Tony McCaroll parted ways with the band, with Alan White taking his place. "Some Might Say" entered the charts at number one upon its May release; its success led to all of their previous singles re-entering the indie charts. Oasis spent the rest of the summer completing their second album, (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, which was released in October of 1995. Upon its release, the album shot to number one in England, becoming the fastest-selling in the U.K. since Michael Jackson's Bad.

 

Over the course of 1996, (What's the Story) Morning Glory? became the second-biggest British album in history, as Oasis became international phenomenons. On the strength of the single "Wonderwall," Morning Glory became a Top Ten success in America, eventually being certified quintuple platinum; it also reached the Top Ten throughout Europe and Asia. During 1996, the Gallaghers' combative relationship frequently made newspapers and gossip columns, particularly when they suddenly pulled out of their late summer U.S. tour. This followed the group's two concerts at Knebworth, which broke records for being the biggest outdoor concert in England. After Oasis abandoned their American tour, they concentrated on recording their third album. Where their first two albums were quickly recorded, they took several months to record the third, finally completing it in the spring of 1997. The album, Be Here Now, was released in late August, with the single "D'You Know What I Mean" preceding the full-length record in July. Greeted with generally enthusiastic reviews and robust sales, Be Here Now shattered sales records in the U.K. and nearly topped the U.S. charts, positioning the quintet as the de facto rulers of rock. However, a backlash set in among both critics and record buyers over the album's perceived excesses, which meant that Be Here Now lacked the shelf life of its predecessors. Not long afterward, typical infighting unraveled the band's tour, and the group disappeared from the spotlight for a time, although a collection of B-sides, Masterplan, did follow in 1998.

 

As the band was recording their fourth album in the summer of 1999, Bonehead left Oasis, claiming that he wanted to spend more time with his family. Interviewed by NME on August 11, the day after the parting was made public, Noel Gallagher seemed unfazed: "It's hardly Paul McCartney leaving the Beatles." Ex-Ride guitarist Andy Bell and onetime Heavy Stereo guitarist Gem Archer signed on after the recording of 2000's Standing on the Shoulder of Giants was completed. In fall 2000, the band celebrated their monumental world tour success with the release of their first-ever live record, Familiar To Millions. The album highlights Oasis' July 2000 gig at Wembley Stadium and was released on six different formats including CD and cassette, DVD, VHS, Triple Vinyl, and Mini Disc. Two years later, Oasis surfaced with Heathen Chemistry. Worldwide dates coincided the release of Oasis' fifth studio album, however problems loomed ahead. While touring America in late summer, Noel Gallagher, Andy Bell and touring keyboardist Jay Darlington were injured in Indianapolis after their taxi collided head on with another vehicle. Oasis were back on the road in two weeks time after cancelling shows in Indianapolis, Boston and Philadelphia shows, but the album wasn't doing as well as the tour. First single "Hindu Times" barely made a mark on MTV and struggled to cling to mainstream and college radio until fall. In December 2002, Liam Gallagher and a few other members of the Oasis entourage were involved in a street scuffle in Munich. The younger Gallagher sustained facial injuries and was later arrested while two of the band's security guards sought serious medical attention. A second single, "Songbird", was issued in late winter 2003. The next album suffered delays when initial sessions with the electronica duo Death in Vegas as producers were scrapped and when drummer Alan White made his exit from the band. With Ringo Starr's son Zak Starkey taking White's place, the band finished Don't Believe the Truth which saw worldwide release in May of 2005.

 

 

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Definitely Maybe (Aug 1994)

5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

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.

 

 

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(What's the Story) Morning Glory? (Oct 3, 1995)

5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

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.

 

 

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Be Here Now (Aug 26, 1997)

3.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

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.

 

 

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Standing on the Shoulder of Giants (Feb 29, 2000)

3 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

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.

 

 

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Familiar to Millions (Nov 21, 2000)

2.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

It's stunning just how quickly Oasis lost the plot. Sure, they always indulged themselves, but that was part of their charm, yet all their excess and hubris led to the ugly implosion on the Be Here Now tour. Once they lost momentum, it was inevitable that the group would start to splinter, with Bonehead and Guigsy leaving for saner territory prior to the release of their fourth album. Now, the Gallaghers ruled the roost by themselves and, like any insecure megalomaniacs, they surrounded themselves with average musicians — musicians that were technically better than the Mancunian mooks they replaced, but had less character. And that may be the reason why the double-live Familiar to Millions, documenting Oasis' Wembley Stadium show in the summer of 2000, is satisfying without being transcendent, the way they were at their 1995/96 peak — it finds the group just after they firmly entrenched themselves as professionals. Well, almost all of them. God bless Liam, who remains unbelievably obnoxious, slurring and swearing incomprehensibly, picking fights with audiences, exhorting the gals to get their t*ts out, and, above all, singing like a bast*rd. He does his best to keep the music alive, trying to make it something more than solid hard rock. Occasionally, he pulls it off, but he's constrained by the dogged professionalism of the others, plus the group's insistence on playing the 2000 set list, from the off-stage intro of "f***ing in the Bushes" to the encore covers. Yeah, it's pretty good but it ain't great, either. It's fun, but it's cheap fun — and, at their best, Oasis gave great fun.

 

 

 

 

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Heathen Chemistry (Jul 2, 2002)

3 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

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 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 keeps Heathen Chemistry from really rocking — it's big and diffuse, sounding enormous and vaguely psychedelic, without much grit or kick. When its 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 dynamics, 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, nor 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. That's not a great average, especially since the flat production doesn't make any of these songs shine as a brilliant individual moments, the way "It's Getting Better (Man)" did on Be Here Now (well, apart from "Songbird," which is the only spare production here), but it's not bad, either, and good Oasis songs are still a joy. Nevertheless, for those who rightfully believed that Oasis was a great band in the mid-'90s — when Noel had so many great songs, they spilled over to three B-sides per single — it's hard not to find this album kind of disappointing, a confirmation that no matter what they do, Oasis Mach II will never have the sheer abandon or thrill as Definitely Maybe through Morning Glory.

 

 

 

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Don't Believe the Truth (May 31, 2005)

4.5 Stars

 

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

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.

 

 

 

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The Masterplan (Nov 3, 1998)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

For American audiences, the phenomenal worldwide success of Oasis was a little puzzling. That's because they only had part of the picture — unless they were hardcore fans, they didn't hear nearly three albums of material released on B-sides and non-LP singles. Critics and fans alike claimed that the best of these B-sides were as strong as the best moments on the albums, and they were right. None of the albums had a song that rocked as hard as "Fade Away" (cleverly built on a stolen melody from Wham!'s "Freedom"), "Headshrinker," or "Acquiesce." There was nothing as charming as the lite psychedelic pastiche "Underneath the Sky" or the Bacharach tribute "Going Nowhere"; there was nothing as affecting as Noel Gallagher's acoustic plea "Talk Tonight" or the minor-key, McCartney-esque "Rockin' Chair," nothing as epic as "The Masterplan." Most bands wouldn't throw songs of this caliber away on B-sides, but Noel Gallagher followed the example of his heroes the Jam and the Smiths, who released singles where the B-sides rivaled the A-sides. This meant many American fans missed these songs, so to remedy this situation, Oasis released the B-sides compilation The Masterplan. Oasis unfortunately chose to opt for a single disc of highlights instead of a complete double-disc set, which means a wealth of great songs — "Take Me Away," "Whatever," "D'Yer Wanna Be a Spaceman?," "Round Are Way," "It's Better People," "Step Out," a raging cover of "Cum on Feel the Noize" — are missing. But The Masterplan winds up quite enjoyable anyway. Apart from the sludgy instrumental "The Swamp Song," there isn't a weak track here, and the brilliant moments are essential not only for Oasis fans, but any casual follower of Britpop or post-grunge rock & roll.

 

 

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Stop the Clocks (Nov 20, 2006)

4.5 Stars

 

Review by Stephen Thomas Erlewine

 

A young Noel Gallagher at the height of Oasis' popularity in the mid-'90s declared that the band would not release a compilation CD until the end of their career, since such compilations implied that a band's career was indeed over. A decade later, an older, presumably wiser Gallagher realized that if you're about to leave your longtime label and that label will release a compilation whether you participate or not, it's better to write your own draft of your band's history than having the label do it for you. And so, Gallagher designed the first Oasis hits compilation, 2006's double-disc, 18-track Stop the Clocks. As he so often has done in his career, he looked to the Beatles for guidance, choosing their two 1973 hits comps 1962-1966 and 1967-1970 — better-known as The Red Album and The Blue Album — as a template for Stop the Clocks. Those records mixed up hits with album tracks and B-sides to offer an overview of the band's identity, and so it is with Oasis' double-disc set, as it overlooks big hits — "Roll with It," "D'You Know What I Mean," "Stand by Me" — in favor for things that were tucked away on albums or singles. Where the Beatles albums sampled more or less equally from each phase of their career, Gallagher is a bit more ruthless in rewriting his own history, thoroughly excising 1997's Be Here Now from the band's past — an overreaction that's nevertheless perfectly in line with everything regarding their overblown third album (and loses them half a star from this reviewer).

 

Such fits of pique are typical for Gallagher and Oasis — which at the time of the release of Stop the Clocks had only his brother Liam as the other remaining original member — and another is the exclusion of the non-LP Christmas 1994 single "Whatever," omitted presumably because if it was here the band would have to shell out royalties to David Bowie. But even if "Whatever" is missed along with such other great singles both early ("Shakermaker") and late ("The Hindu Times"), Stop the Clocks works at its most basic level: it offers an excellent primer to Oasis at their best. Of course, this means that it draws very heavily on the glory days of 1994-1996, offering five tracks each from Definitely Maybe and (What's the Story) Morning Glory, plus various B-sides from this era. All in all, a whopping 15 of the 19 tracks here date from this time, and the four songs that do come from the 21st century — "Lyla," "The Importance of Being Idle," "Go Let It Out," "Songbird" — more than hold their own since they rely on what has always been their strengths: sturdy classicist songwriting and spirited performances. And that's why Oasis' best music has dated very well: anything with such aspirations to be classic lives and dies by the strength of their material, and this manages to capture its time and transcend it, since its attitude remains potent, and the songs sound as good hundreds of times after their fist spin. No, even at two discs Stop the Clocks doesn't contain all of the best of Oasis, but it does contain Oasis at their best and enough of it that it can indeed be passed along to future generations as an introduction to one of the best bands of their time, just like how the Red and Blue albums converted many young listeners to the Beatles.