Pitchfork

Let's face it: some outtakes are initially scrapped for good reason. Calling a collection of largely inferior previously unreleased tracks The Masterplan is a little presumptuous, to say the least. But, then again, Oasis have, for years, thrived on presumption, pretension and hype. Until finally, their boasting, preening and carrying- on backfired with 1997's uninspired pop failure Be Here Now.

Now that Oasis, too, are bigger than Jesus Christ, they suddenly they find themselves at a major creative impasse. And hey, what better time to hawk a few throwaway tunes to the general public? This previously- ignored garbage gets scraped from the bottom of some dumpster behind Epic records, and packaged as newly- discovered gleaming treasures. Easy, eh? "Blimey, look wot I found, it's The Lost Oasis Anthology!"

Maybe the Gallagher brothers caught wind of Yoko Ono recently raiding her late hubby's closets for every last note, screech or belch he ever put on tape. "Noel's brain's in hibernation, chaps," you can hear Liam saying. "Somebody raid the rubbish dump. Check in a basement or dustbin or somethin'. That's where they usually find lost tapes. An' gimme another snort o' that fookin' Borax, chappie..."

On The Masterplan there are a few scattershot moments of crackling energy on "Fade Away," and "Headshrinker" that certainly blow away "Wonderwall" and "Alcohol and Cigarettes," for example. But they're the kind of updated '60s power-pop anachronisms that Matthew Sweet had already perfected on 1991's Girlfriend and 1993's Altered Beast. "The Swamp Song" is an endless, clumsy blues jam. "Going Nowhere" is thoughtless, meandering orch-pop. Oasis' Beatles affectations reach unintentional comedic heights on an extended live version of "I Am The Walrus," where Liam turns in a real wheeze of a vocal performance. You begin to realize they might not even pass for a good imitation of Wings, really.

I'm afraid this compilation just isn't enough to spark a renewed interest in these quickly fading toss-pots. Obviously, it's much easier for Oasis to package shit as diamonds and chuck it out among the entertainment- starved rabble, rather than actually try and transcend the vacuum they've been writing songs in for so long. (Hunker down in the studio and possibly re-think your incredibly narrow approach to pop tunesmithing, lads?) Being the stubborn Beatles snobs they are, though, they'll most likely continue with the same unforgivably lame Revolver- era Beatles knock-offs while making futile genuflections at the altar of Mr. Paul Weller. Maybe it's about time they debut the talents of the long- forgotten, previously outtaken third Gallagher brother: autistic, pennywhistle- blowing Tosser Gallagher. Poor wanker's been gathering dust in a London basement for years, you know.