(Photo courtesy of Mercury)Nothing breaks the heart like watching someone waste their talent. Even worse is witnessing a giant of past prestige dissipate their creative edge into a monument of what was once a lauded career. Noel Gallagher, Britpop guru and Oasis alum, falls somewhere in between.
Like a past-his-prime quarterback reliving the glory days, Gallagher’s self-produced sophomore solo album, “Chasing Yesterday,” teases with prowess and finesse, but inevitably slumps its way back onto the couch — tired, breathless and bare.
Gallagher is back to his old ways with album opener, “Riverman.” If those beginning seconds of acoustic guitar don’t force the lyrics from “Wonderwall” out of your mouth, you’re jaded beyond saving. Thankfully, Gallagher guides the track through a surprisingly splendid arrangement — dabbling with smoky saxophone solos and his usually well-crafted chorus. For a moment, Gallagher sounds like he finally found his way out of the desert surrounding Oasis, but only for a moment.
Sounding like an Oasis song that never was, “Chasing Yesterday’s” second track, “In the Heat of the Moment,” is nothing more than Gallagher creeping back into his own worn-out safe zone. Grating, corny and irritating are just a few ways to describe those preposterous “na na na’s” and lyrical drivel plaguing the already snooze-inducing song.
Gallagher isn't known as a wordplay wizard. The man relishes in the one-dimensional. But, you’d think his 47 years of existence could garner something a bit more insightful than “I try to hang on to myself, don’t believe in no one else,” or “I’m going nowhere down a hill, it’s hard to swallow, like a pill.”
Granted, how poetic could a song named “The Girl with X-Ray Eyes” actually be? Apparently, not very.
Supposedly lying dormant for over 25 years in the Oasis vault, “Lock All the Doors” is just about where anyone tired of the same old Gallagher sound will surrender their ears to silence and stop listening entirely. Cue the overwhelming buyer’s remorse —we’ve been tricked again.
For those patient enough, the half-decent ballad, “The Dying of the Light,” seamlessly transitions into the first excellent track.
“The Right Stuff” showcases Gallagher’s knack for producing with an exquisitely complex mix. Understated guitar solos, gorgeously dripping piano, groovy drumming, free-form saxophone, duet vocals with a woman — “The Right Stuff” will leave you floored, jaw agape and stunned by Gallagher’s broken shackles.
“While The Song Remains The Same” pushes Gallagher’s songwriting further into unclaimed territory. The urgent shake-down of percussion and slithering bass lines builds into a whirl of ominous guitars, sounding uncharacteristic of what came before.
And just as mysteriously as it came, the fleeting glimpse into Gallagher’s potential crumbles away as he moronically sings one of the worst lines ever written: “They say that you need love, just like a kid on crack.”
Straightforward and tedious, “The Mexican” plays like the D-list version of a modern day Rolling Stones' song that was shelved for the good of mankind.
“Ballad of the Mighty I,” closes the album with a danceable bass groove and hi-hat combo vaguely reminiscent of a disco epic. Gallagher’s soaring vocals, accompanied by The Smith's guitarist Johnny Marr's reverberating guitar, combine to send the album off with a much needed dose of adrenaline.
Gallagher doesn’t exactly need to prove his relevance. His ability to write anthems that tantalize millions into sing-a-long frenzies is practically unmatched, and many of his songs remain culturally relevant almost 20 years later. It’s just a shame the bits of experimentation here never quite become anything noteworthy beyond the confines of the album. Even obvious highlights like “The Right Stuff” and “Riverman” really only impress because the content bookending them is so mundane.
Regardless, the few moments of the ironically named “Chasing Yesterday” that leave the past behind and propel Gallagher into newfound creativity are genuinely promising.
Perhaps his third solo album will inspire something greater. Until then though, we’re left with flashes of glimmering optimism that belong on a different album entirely — the one loyal fans of Gallagher’s sorely crave and readily deserve.
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