Oasis
Dig Out Your Soul

"Dig Out Your Soul"

If there's a better frontman than Liam Gallagher, then write it to me.

It's already a judgment, disturbances in the opening, agonisms agonize.

Since the '90s, after the brief grunge story, Oasis have brought England and its rock to the spotlight, surpassing Blur both in sales and in their reach to the public with lyrics of lush spontaneity and a clear freshness in using words congenial to those who have lived their lives led by nighttime 'disgust'.

Britpop may have been born with Blur's first album, but it owes a lot to The Who and developed in Italy only after "Quadrophenia" invaded cinemas; already in the '80s one could see the first mods walking the streets of Rome, with their hair cut by putting a bowl on their head and trimming around it, a kind of punk George Harrison in their way of being and presenting themselves.

By 2009 perhaps the propulsive forces were exhausted or at least diminished due to modernist rhetoric and the obsessive focus on aestheticism.

Image: 2009 boy shaving his body hair, getting piercings, and picking up girls relentlessly.

Those who grow up with values or simply those who don't like showing off are like Ian Brown, who, being the aged copy of Liam, has always lived a bit in the shadow of "Manciasta" (Manchester for those who are ignorant).

Oasis have managed year after year to always offer something new in the international music scene, attracting many people to their concerts, which sometimes ended after the first song when a drunk and exhausted Liam would spew forth a composite of bile and alcohol towards the excited crowd.

Image: scattered little vomits here and there.

Their formula works, oh how it works, they sell at high levels all their copies, which are truly copies of copies of copies of Wonderwall, Live Forever, Don't Go Away, All Around The World adapted to a new, deep, and personal text.

For example, "I'm Outta Time", a song written by Liam and dedicated to John Lennon; if I am about to fall, would you want to be there to applaud, Liam asks himself, that if I have to leave and you have grown in my heart, it's here that you belong.

Image: the hairy feet of Liam Gallagher.

Smell of feet, smell of plagiarism.

But then you see the live shows at Wembley, in Coventry, in London, in Mancastra (for the ignorant, Manchester), Liam with his Umbro polo shirt, a beer in hand, repeating "You're Fuckin'", "You're Fuckin'", "Fuckin' Suppnova", "Champagne Suppnova", and you realize how much that short being with the unibrow and the eyes of plush toys (pets) has understood almost everything about life, has understood how to trick you.

Image: Liam exiting a Roman hotel to find some boys with similar hairstyles and clothing as him, looking at them puzzled, hypnotized with a bit of bitterness like a monkey at the mirror.

And if the choice is right, it's right, and only you know it.

Now Liam is aging, and those zero neurons in his head haven't eliminated the possibility of living a better life than yours. Those arms behind the body, that mouth hiding the upper teeth and showing the lower ones, is a trick like the grassy hair and jacket and tie of Berlusconi (for the ignorant, that great Berlusconi), pure simulacrum, a show congenial to the coerced mind of our society, which is regressing to the level of a semi-sapiens human, semi-free, seed spreader.

Image: Mediashopping '80s collection.

And if Antonellino Venditti would like to return from skin to heart (ce deve ritornaaaa), Liam should return to his beginnings when the spontaneity of that Citizen (Manchester City) fan boy, his indifference, were an inspiration for a generation that no longer knew which saint to turn to.

In the season when England is open to the mercy of all, and Pit Doherty has now become synonymous with "N'do s'annamo a spertusà a venazza" (citation from "Amore tossico"), nothing remains but to face the rollercoasters with those two big-headed dwarfs, the Gallagher brothers, who in their repetition of musical tautology affirming the nihilistic eternal return, still let us feel the smell of London's kebabs, let us enter the atmosphere of "Cum den-den Town", among the suicide girls and McLuhan who highlighted the effect of technology on the human body.

Image: Liam on the toilet, the Pope on the toilet, sexyajax on the toilet.

We are all the same and yet Liam has the ability to change morphologically at every concert, from Dublin where he sports a white jacket and John Lennon-style glasses and short hair, to arriving at the FestivalBar where with an open shirt showing chest hair, long hair, and a tie he performs a song (masterfully), takes his money, and rushes to smoke the bottle backstage.

"The shutters break like stained glass, as if they will never recover, rise, and reopen again tomorrow."

The seventh album of the English band, released on October 3 2008, Noel says regarding the album's release that he wanted to create a hypnotic sound and not the usual series of choruses and settings; I leave the final decision up to your personal taste, you state servants.

Image: Debaser users, cigarette in mouth, making the final decision.

The critical and audience success was quite positive, although the more elitist and melancholic fans would like a return to the origins and perhaps do not want to age.

Image: Ian Brown and Liam Gallagher looking each other in the eyes like a monkey at the mirror, delighting in their straightened hair styling and in their hollow cheekbones as David Bowie reflected his zygomas in Iggy Pop's.

1. "Big It Up"
2. "The Turning"
3. "Waiting For The Rapture"
4. "The Shock Of The Lighting"
5. "I'm Outta Time"
6. "High Horse Lady"
7. "Following Down"
8. "To Be Where There's Life"
9. "Ain't Go Nothing"
10. "The Nature Of Reality"
11. "Soldier On"