(Epic)
RECOMMENDED
The inimitable, glorious blast of Definitely Maybe aside, Oasis never really fulfilled their promise. Of course they had their commercial moment with (What's the Story) Morning Glory and the beautiful misfire Be Here Now, just the kind of oddball creative idiocy that is the true mark of greatness. But the Great Band narrative they wrote for themselves became, perhaps, too restrictive. It would seem that a b-sides collection could afford an opportunity to witness the band loosening up a little fucking bit for once, and better yet to present some oddities from the brief but unforgettable period when Noel Gallagher was writing one classic after another. It turns out that The Masterplan is worth the Oasis canon, but not at all for the expected reasons.
An Oasis fanatic and tireless defender when this was issued in 1998, I nevertheless did not pick it up, in large part because when I heard the single "Acquiesce" (originally the flipside of "Roll with It"), I thought it was too much like a Bryan Adams record. Hearing it for the first time in thirteen years yesterday, that impulse hasn't changed. The big secret of The Masterplan, the great hidden truth that these discards reveal, is Noel Gallagher's fixation with the FM radio orthodoxy. Three of the first four tracks on this compilation possess traditional and fairly grand low-key Oasis verses then fall into shameless pop-automatic choruses that could make even a diehard cringe.
But there's plenty special in the exceptions. The title track is something of a miracle, a delicate, considered jangle-pop chamber piece that easily goes down as one of the band's most completely realized, lively songs, its lilting melody and building chorus stunningly persuasive. Like it, "Talk Tonight" features Noel on lead vocals, and it provides the same sort of relief that the flooring "Don't Look Back in Anger" did on Morning Glory; it's easy to understand why Liam's personality placed him as the ideal frontman, but does anyone doubt that his brother destroyed him as a singer? On "Talk" and the less defensible "Going Nowhere," he gives vent to worlds of nuance that are never even approached on something like "Champagne Supernova." As ever, one wishes for more like it; there isn't the catharsis and euphoria of "Anger" but there's a knocking at the door. And only Noel could sell a lyric as dubious as that of "Half the World Away" ("This old town don't smell too pretty") but he nails it.
Still, what's remarkable about the live cover of "I Am the Walrus" is not how bizarre the blissed-out arrangement is, or the hilarity of Liam's curious pronunciation ("sittin' on a conn-flayake") and scat singing ("goo goo goo jah / choo choo choo bah")... it's the sheer sincerity of the boys' Beatles fandom, and it's how capable Liam is of slipping in and out of a near-perfect pitch John Lennon impression. This is something beyond Britpop -- this is a strange and semi-wonderful magnification of a memory.
So Liam was always best on the sheer snottiness of "Married with Children" or the reluctant emotion of "Wonderwall," and he seldom gets to wrap his tongue around anything of the kind here (at one point he has to sing "It's the little things that make me feel happy" with a straight face) because, of course, all his shining bits made the albums. "Fade Away," reaching back to the band's shoegaze period, is a notable exception, a hard-hitting track that could easily have made any of the first three albums without any serious compromise, and "Listen Up" gets close to towering (hampered by throaty strain), but the lion's share of these are rarities and b-sides and unheard cuts for rather obvious reasons.
If you dug the first three or four Oasis albums like I did but never sought this out, do so; in part because the first record remained by far their best, it's easy to find it a difficult sell. Were the band more consistent for longer, no one would need persuading to track down their esoteric material. But this isn't noodling; if anything, it has more immediacy than the sometimes labored chugging along of albums two and three. Even Definitely Maybe, great as it is, is never as charming as the goofily sweet "Rockin' Chair." Better yet, The Masterplan is a surprisingly pleasing rush of nostalgia that makes that weird moment last just a tiny bit longer; the rapid-fire, unfettered "Headshrinker" is worth the trouble all by itself. Just don't expect it to have the lasting power of Definitely Maybe or even the addictive curiosity of Be Here Now and you're all set.
[SEE ALSO:]
The Early Years (1992-95)
Definitely Maybe (1994)
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