Since {$Oasis} have an instantly identifiable, seemingly simple signature sound -- gigantic, lumbering, melodic, and inevitable, as if their songs have always existed and always will -- it can be hard to pinpoint what separates a great {$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 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 {$Oasis} great. While that record had its moments, it often seemed generic, suggesting that the group had painted themselves into a corner, not knowing where to go next. Surely, all the reports from the recording of their long-gestating sixth album suggested a faint air of desperation. First, the {\electronica} duo {$Death in Vegas} was brought in to produce, 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 {$Oasis} haven't been since {^Morning Glory}. It doesn't feel labored, nor does it sound as if they're deliberately trying to re-create past glories. Instead, it sounds like they've remembered what they love about {\rock & roll} and why they make music. They sound reinvigorated, which is perhaps appropriate, because {^Don't Believe the Truth} finds {$Oasis} to be quite a different band than they were 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 {$Noel} has kept them for himself, singing four of the five tunes (including the soaring closing duet {&"Let There Be Love,"} the brothers' best joint vocal since {&"Acquiesce"}). But the key to this new incarnation of {$Oasis} is that this move by {$Noel} doesn't seem like he's hoarding his best numbers, or trying to instigate sibling rivalry with {$Liam}. Instead, it emphasizes that {$Oasis} is now a genuine band, a group of personalities that together form one gang of charming rogues. Apart from the tremendous, rambling {&"Lyla"} that channels the spirit of {$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 {\Brit-pop}, when they were the biggest and best band in the world. [This edition contains an additional CD of bonus material.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide