Pitchfork

Other day I was dragging my sand-filled shoes through the desert wasteland known as commercial alternative rock, the sun beating on me like a sadist with a whip, my brow the only moist thing in sight. I spotted in the distance some really pompous British guys with guitars who wouldn't give me the time of day, let alone water from their canteens. Some fucking oasis.

The band's third record, Be Here Now is, predictably, a lot like Definitely Maybe and even more like What's the Story, Morning Glory, but with a lot more pomp. What were formally unforgettable three-to-four-minute pop slices are now six-to-ten-minute epics. Guess "Champagne Supernova" altered the course of their journey toward Edgar Winters' part of the universe.

Be Here Now is not Oasis' crowning moment. "D'ja Know What I Mean," the album's first single, is too goddamn catchy for its utter crapness, and I can't even say that much for the rest of the record. Christ, even the Brits hate it! And let's talk about how shamelessly awful their album covers are. The Beatles had great album covers! Iconic, even! D'ja think anyone's gonna remember a buncha crap sitting around a pool in 20 years? Not me, and I even wrote about it.