FOOKIN' O-AYE-SIS...
...have somehow miraculously just put out one of the best records of their long and unvaried career. And somewhat more miraculously, even though five of Noel's six contributions to the album are stone cold classics, the best songs on the record are two of Liam's three. Yes, I know there were a lot of naysayers when "Little James" first reared its ugly Hey-Judish head eight years ago, but I always saw the promise there, and now the Gallagher Minor has delivered. Expect the Beatlesque (no, really) "I'm Outta Time" to knock the tired "Don't Look Back in Anger" out of future setlists, and for the entrancing "Soldier On" to plant the seed for Liam's inevitable solo album in 5 years' time.
The album doesn't offer much in the way of surprises—they've been honing this "full band contribution" approach for two or three albums now. It's just that Gem and Andy have really fully taken hold now, and as a result this one feels more consistent, even if a bit top-heavy; all of Noel's songs are positioned at the front. In some ways, this allows for the album to act more like a psychedelic journey (something Oasis have always wanted), because it starts with the familiar and gradually works its way out to other textures.
Refreshingly, though, Dig Out Your Soul is never TOO familiar, which has been the shortcoming of all Oasis records since 1997. Granted, nobody ever thought the band would pull a Kid A—they absolutely haven't—but from the starting gate this is a rip-roaring version of Oasis unlike any version previously heard, who absolutely plow through every sonic hurdle in the book without losing any momentum whatsoever. Subtle details often link the tracks together, adding that much more to the overall cohesion. Most of the sonic success here probably goes to producer Dave Sardy, returning after his masterful work on the last Oasis record, Don't Believe the Truth. Here, his touch is similarly clean and powerful, keeping Oasis from getting bogged-down in their own vortex of late-'60s muck.
And now I'm going to move on to a new topic before this one devolves into a discussion about digital music file formats and Apple's apparent inability to get the other major labels to contribute to their higher bit rate, DRM-free mission. I'll save that complaint for a later day.
GNAP!
Completely switching gears here, do you remember the purple Smurfs? I have never forgotten them. Of course, part of this might have to do with the fact that my friend and I had a tendency to parade around our junior high school shouting GNAP! at any convenient opportunity we could find.
The story, which falls in line with any classic story about zombies or vampires or fascist thought control, goes something like this: One day Lazy Smurf is sent into the woods to do some tiresome chore when he's caught napping on the job, and in the process he comes across a dreaded (gasp) purple fly. The fly bites him on the tail, and he immediately turns purple *and* evil, and his full vocabulary is replaced by a single word.
GNAP!
One by one the Smurfs bite each other on the tail, turning one another purple, until gradually the remaining blue Smurfs are outnumbered. Papa Smurf is the last one left, and of course he has spent most of this time trying to formulate the remedy in his smurfy little lab. He actually does get turned for a brief second, but his vaccine has already been released into the air and all the Smurfs are saved.
So why do I bring this up now? Because there's something about all those little blue dudes eyeing up each other's asses and biting one another that reminds me of homosexual behavior in quarantined societies, such as prison. No, seriously. I mean, the first Smurf that Lazy goes after? Hefty Smurf, with his gruff voice and tattooed arms and manly demeanor. Just look at the expression on Lazy's face, and look at *where* he's looking:
There has always been something gay about the Smurfs, and not just in that "La, La, La-la-la-la" way. Ninety-something adult men living together in harmony with their Daddy. (I hear you now: "What about Smurfette?") Well, yes, Smurfette is present in this particular cartoon but she is completely sidelined as she didn't exist when the story was written for the comic books, and as such we're not even graced with the sight of some hungry purple dude sizing up her ass. But guess how many guys sizing up guys we see?
I rest my case.
Now, as a famous TV commercial once said, "Boboli. See you next time!"
