Being sensible, cultured types, you have better things to do with your Saturday night. But recently I was listening to Russell Brand's show on Radio 2. And suddenly, breaking through the seamless verbal solipsism of the host, a sharp, clear, witty voice emerged. It was someone talking sense with humour. I recognised the Mancunian twang, but couldn't initially place it. Then, roughly about the time Brand called him by his Christian name, it came to me: it was Noel Gallagher.
The founder and driving force of Oasis has developed into a shrewd commentator on subjects as diverse as the credit crunch, English football and the absurd condition of Brand's hair. So quick-witted was he that I thought, as I listened, what a fine contributor he would be to Question Time. But it is about his own output that he sounded particularly - and unusually - self-aware. Gallagher is a man who appears to have come to terms with his own limitations.
In 1994, Definitely Maybe, his first record with Oasis, promised huge things. Exciting, passionate, raw, it was stuffed with memorable tunes. Back then Gallagher, chippy about the long dark evening that preceded his success, seemed conditioned to blow his own trumpet. He was almost Brand-like in his self-esteem. His most frequent boast was to encourage comparison with the Beatles. Mind, he wasn't the only one who believed he might have a thesis: to many, his group appeared to have the capacity to develop creatively as their mentors had.
An Oasis of stability in these troubled times
Fourteen years on, Oasis's new album Dig Out Your Soul has just been released. It is a record that suggests they have moved about as far as a car left overnight outside the Gallaghers' family home in Burnage, south Manchester, its wheels removed by hospitable locals. While in seven short, hectic years the Beatles grew from Please Please Me to Let It Be, Oasis have been stuck for twice that time in neutral. Their latest is a record about as cutting-edge as Jeremy Clarkson's wardrobe.
But here's the important thing: it doesn't appear to affect Oasis's record sales. This latest album, already shipping out huge numbers, promises to match the sales of everything they have done since their debut. And Gallagher - smilingly cheerful about his continued financial, if not cultural, relevance - admits he has accepted his role in life. Since his album titles tend to reach for aphorism, his next might be best called "If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It".
Yet when it comes to remaining precisely where you are, even Gallagher is a novice compared to AC/DC, a group formed in Sydney in 1973. In their early days, the band's unique selling proposition was that Angus Young, their lead guitarist, dressed like a prep-school boy, in blazer, tie, cap and corduroy shorts, his socks gathered round his ankles. Given that he was 17, it was a nicely ironic comment on rock and roll rebellion.
Thirty-five years on, the Aussies have launched their latest work, Black Ice. Apparently sealed in aspic, it is a shameless revisiting of their finest moment - 1980's Back in Black - with the notes arranged in marginally different order. The deal is that in two-and-a-half decades, nothing whatsoever has changed, including Young's stage attire. With his leathery complexion and thinning scraggle of hair, the be-shorted 52-year-old now has the unsettling appearance of Jimmy Clitheroe in his latter days. But this is seemingly of no worry to the band's widening army of fans. The probability is that the only act who can prevent AC/DC from having the number one bestseller in the pre-Christmas rush is Gallagher's Oasis.
A riposte to those self-styled pioneers such as Madonna who strive to remain at the forefront of innovation, the two static caravans of musical progress continue to sell by the lorry-load. Their success is a vivid demonstration of this central economic truth: in hard times, we fall back on the familiar. But it has wider implications for those who wish to steer us through the turmoil ahead: if you have a winning formula, don't let it go in vain pursuit of something - anything - new. At this point of the cycle, we are all anxious to keep hold of what we know. Gallagher's is a lesson that anyone engaged in business, education, the media and above all politics would be well advised to heed.
Source: www.telegraph.co.uk
